#this night together fic

[honeyhotteoks]

this night together - chapter thirteen (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter thirteen: all the words you never said

chapter summary: someone's at the door, and everything changes.

warnings: this chapter is still a bit of a pain train, but don't worry we're coming out of that en route to happier times. in the mean time..... warnings for descriptions of violence, injury, and blood. mc has a panic attack / ptsd flashbacks, open descriptions about her trauma, fear, nightmares, etc.

notes: i'm still working on the next chapter, but hopefully that one won't take too long!

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 8.8k

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You wake the next day to an insistent knocking sound, a fist pounding against the front door of their apartment. Yunho nearly falls out of bed at the noise, shaking his head hard to banish the cobwebs, but Mingi is on his feet in seconds. 

“What’s going on?” You murmur, rubbing a hand over your face and stretching your tired limbs. 

“I got it,” Mingi shakes his head at you, “just stay with Yunho,” 

A chill runs over your arms, and with no blankets to drag up over you, you push yourself off the bed and grab for Mingi’s hoodie, pulling it over your head quickly and relaxing into its warmth. 

“Coming!” Mingi calls gruffly towards the door, and the knocking stops immediately. 

You glance at Yunho and he shrugs, but his eyes quickly flick to the door, able to see all the way down the hall from this vantage point and he waits. 

You listen as Mingi turns over the deadbolt and unlocks the chain, swinging the door open, “Oh,” he says, “hyung,” 

“Is y/n here?” Seonghwa’s voice sounds a little strained, like he ran up three flights of stairs. 

Yunho looks like he’s about to say something, but you smooth your hair back behind your ears and head down the hall for the door. 

“Yeah, she’s,” Mingi says, but you move around his side and Seonghwa’s eyes shift to you. 

“There you are,” Seonghwa sighs, looking instantly relieved. 

“Was I supposed to be somewhere?” Your eyebrows draw together, mind still a little fuzzy with sleep. 

Mingi takes a step away, and Seonghwa pushes across the threshold, “You haven’t been answering your phone at all, and when you didn’t show up this morning to practice… I just got worried,” 

“Oh, Hwa,” You soften, “I’m fine,” 

He hesitates, eyes flicking over you, and then he pulls you into his arms, sighing heavily, “Sorry, of course you are,” 

You tuck your face into his warm chest, squeezing him tight, “I’m good, I haven’t looked at my phone though, I was a little out of it last night,” 

“Did you just get up?” He pulls back and looks you over. 

“Mhm,” 

“It’s one o’clock,” He says softly, “you can see why I was worried,” 

“It’s one?” You’re shocked at the time, that you were able to sleep for almost twelve hours and so were they, despite your brief and terrifying wake up in the middle.  

Seonghwa smiles, “Yeah, but it’s fine, as long as you’re okay,” 

There are so many pieces to what happened yesterday you still don’t have answers to, and you’re not sure if now is the right time, but with Seonghwa in front of you things finally feel better. He’s been there for you so much recently that it feels like seeing him now is the clear missing piece to you finally releasing the last bit of tension from last night. 

A beat stretches between you and you nod. 

Yunho clears his throat softly from next to you both, “I’ll put some coffee on,” 

You almost forgot they were right by your side, and as Yunho makes his way to the kitchen, Mingi exhales with another rough noise. 

“Hey,” Seonghwa finally properly greets him, looking away from your face, “sorry, how are you holding up?” 

“Just woke up,” Mingi shrugs, “not sure yet,” 

Seonghwa’s eyes flick to you briefly as he registers that you’ve all just gotten up for the day. 

“Mingi,” Yunho calls from the kitchen, “can you help me with something?” 

“With what?” Mingi doesn’t draw his eyes away from either of you. 

“Coffee,” Yunho replies. 

Mingi’s brow furrows and he doesn’t move but turns his head towards the kitchen, “What help do you need with the coffee?” 

“Just come here,” Yunho sounds frustrated and you cover your mouth to keep from laughing. 

“Fine,” Mingi grumbles, throwing one last look back at Seonghwa before heading towards the kitchen. 

With the room clear, you look back to Seonghwa, “Are you okay?” 

“Am I?” He looks confused.

  “I don’t really know what happened yesterday,” You explain, “I barely saw you after everything, but Yunho said you and San took care of things, and I saw blood,” 

“Mm,” He nods, but doesn’t offer anything else. 

“What does that mean?” You press him. 

His eyes flick away and he shrugs, “It means San and I took care of it until the cops came.” 

“Hwa,” You shake your head. 

“Look,” He bites his lip and runs a hand through his dark hair, “can we sit down for a minute? I need to talk to you,” 

“Is everything okay?” 

“I’m not sure,” He admits, “let’s just… can we sit?” 

“Yeah,” You step back, gesturing for him to come further into the apartment and he takes a seat on one side of the sectional, gingerly on the edge with his hands clasped in front of him. Your eyes zero in on the bandages immediately. 

“Seonghwa!” You reach for him immediately, taking his hands in yours.

“Oh,” He takes his hands back and flexes them, “I’m fine, see?” 

“What happened?” Your voice raises a little, and Mingi appears in the doorway of the kitchen, one eyebrow raised. 

“This is what I wanted to talk to you about,” He sighs. 

“Your hands?” 

“Yeah,” Seonghwa pulls them further away from you and shakes his head, “I talked to the police last night and there’s something you need to know,” 

“The police?” You straighten up. 

“Mhm,” Seonghwa’s hand rubs over the back of his damaged knuckles, “they interviewed all of us, I think,” 

“I talked to them at the hospital,” You nod. 

“Were they alright with you?” Seonghwa asks, eyes flicking to yours. 

“Mostly,” You nod, “some of their questions were a little,” you search for the right word. 

“Pointed?” Seonghwa fills in. 

“Exactly,” You cross your arms unconsciously, remembering the way the detective talked to you, “they kept wanting to know about my cycle,” 

“They asked you that?” Seonghwa’s voice spikes a little. 

You nod, “I think it was pretty clear what they were trying to ask considering he said he was rutting,” 

Seonghwa’s jaw tightens as he exhales, “I’m so sorry,” 

“It’s alright,” You know it isn’t, but there isn’t anything to be done, “they took my blood, they’ll see I’m not even in pre-heat, it was nothing like that,” 

“We know that,” Seonghwa reaches across to brush his hand over yours, “you know that right?” 

“Of course I do,” 

“And even if you had been,” His hand flexes around yours, tightening and relaxing. 

“I know,” You assure him again, communicating as much as you can with a look. 

“Okay,” He sighs, “okay, good.” 

He pulls his hand back, and suddenly his face looks familiar. His expression so like that day before the tour in the faraway cafe. He’s working himself up to telling you something, and you can see that he’s scared. 

“Seonghwa, what is it?” You push a little, “You can tell me anything,” 

He presses his lips together before he says, “Right, so the police,” 

Mingi and Yunho choose this moment to file back into the room, both carrying two coffees each and Mingi sets yours down in front of you made up just how you like it before Yunho offers Seonghwa a cup. He accepts it, but lets it sit on the coffee table untouched while they get settled on the opposite side of the couch. 

“Just tell me,” You nod, bracing yourself a little. 

Seonghwa looks down, eyes on the floor while he gathers himself and his thoughts and then finally says, “I might have hurt your case,” 

“My case?” The words don’t quite make sense. 

“Going after him like I did,” He says simply, eyes still downcast. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You shift closer to him on the couch, reaching out but not quite touching him, “what happened?” 

“You didn���t tell her?” Seonghwa looks up but past you, straight at Yunho. 

“What?” You look between them, nothing making sense at all. 

“You weren’t here,” Yunho insists, “she was upset last night, I was going to tell her this morning.” 

“Can you both stop talking around me and just say it?” Your voice takes a higher pitch, “I’m not a child.” 

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa shakes his head, reaching for you and taking your hands folded in his own, “let me start over,” 

“Please,” 

“Minseok,” He says, the name a little uncomfortable in his mouth, “We got him into the hall and when I realized what happened, what he almost did to you,” he flexes his hand again and shakes his head, “I lost it a little,” 

“Hwa,” You murmur. 

“The police said because he had already been detained and it was no longer in defense or de-escalation it could hurt your ability to have him fully charged,” Seonghwa says in a breath, rubbing a hand over his eyes, “it’ll be possible for him to press his own charges if he wants, and I have reason to believe he’s getting those charges filed today,” 

“That’s insane,” You straighten up, “You were just helping me,” 

“No,” Seonghwa finally meets your eyes, “they were helping. I was… kicking the shit out of an defenseless man,” 

You open your mouth to say something but Mingi cuts in easily, “That’s not what I saw.” 

“What?” Seonghwa’s head snaps to the side. 

Mingi shrugs, “If you hurt your case then so did I, we all probably did, but if he knows what’s good for him he’ll take the firing on the chin and move on without dragging this to court.” 

“You fired him?” Your eyebrows raise. 

Yunho’s brows furrow, “Of course he’s fired, he’s not getting within a mile of you ever again,” 

Relief floods you and you nod, shifting your eyes back to Seonghwa, “How do you know he’s filing?” 

“Woo went to school with someone who works at the hospital in the emergency unit,” Seonghwa explains, “he called this morning just to find out Minseok’s discharge status so we knew when he’d be out,” 

That’s a thought that hasn’t occurred to you yet, and you take a steadying breath. 

“He’s going to be in for a little while,” Seonghwa assures you, “a week or two at least, but he did tell us that there were police there interviewing him. His family was also present, and it seems as though they have money and more to say,” 

“Entitled little prick,” Mingi curses. 

Seonghwa’s lip quirks up in a brief smile, but then he nods, “There’s not a scratch on any of us except him,” he points out, “it doesn’t look good,” 

You shift closer, “What did you do to him?” 

“I don’t,” He shakes his head, eyes softening, “I just lost it, San pulled me off him,” 

“Seonghwa,” You murmur. 

“He’s got broken ribs,” Seonghwa swallows hard, “and I think I broke his jaw,” 

“Jesus,” You breathe. 

“I wish I had,” Yunho says calmly, “he deserved it.” 

“Not if he can get away with what he did,” Seonghwa returns his hands to yours, “I’m so sorry,” 

“Hwa,” You shake your head, moving even closer on the sofa until you’re side to side, knees touching, “you have nothing to apologize for. I’m so grateful you were there,” 

His eyes go a little watery, and he cups your cheek, “When I think about the fact that I almost left early,” 

“When have you ever left early?” You give him a soft smile. 

“Seriously,” He shakes his head and leans closer, “I keep thinking about what would have happened if you were there alone, I keep seeing it,” 

“Stop, Hwa, please,” You squeeze his hand, “I’m okay, you were all still there,” 

“Yeah,” He breathes, but you can hear the tenor of lingering fear in his voice. He leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead and exhaling over your skin. 

You let your eyes slip closed, and for a brief moment you forget about the other two men in the room with you, watching over the moment of intimacy with their breath caught in their chests. 

Seonghwa leans back a moment later, eyes clear now, and finally looks you over. He pushes your hair to the side and makes a face at the sight of your swollen, bruised gland, “What’s this?” 

“Nothing,” You shake your head, telling him clearly with your eyes not to pry. 

“Don’t tell me that’s nothing,” He says softly. 

“I promise,” You squeeze his hand, “I’m okay,” 

He swallows and then nods once before jerking his head towards Mingi and Yunho, “Did they take care of you okay?” 

“Yes, Seonghwa,” You sigh. 

You look to them, expecting to see some kind of comedic expression, or bristling annoyance at Seonghwa’s insistent checking, but that’s not what you see at all. Yunho looks like all the air has been let out of him, his eyes soft and unfocused. Mingi’s doing his best to seem relaxed and casual, but you know him well enough to know that he’s anything but, his tightly clenched hands telling you everything. 

“Hmm,” Seonghwa’s soft hum draws your eyes back to his, “and is there anything you need?” 

“I don’t know,” You confess, “is it silly to say I’m still tired?” 

“No,” Seonghwa brushes his hand over your hair again, tucking your hair back to where it was a moment ago, “nothing you wanted would be silly right now.” 

“Is everyone else alright?” You murmur. 

“They are,” He squeezes your hand, “you just focus on you.” 

You manage a nod, and you want to look back to Yunho and Mingi and see why they’re so silent, but Seonghwa continues. 

“You don’t have to be okay,” Seonghwa says softly, “but are you?” 

You know what he’s asking with his eyes, if being here with them is too much, if you’re able to get what you need in the midst of all the emotional circles you had been dealing with before the studio last night. You love him for it, but you nod, “I am, honestly,” 

“Then if you’re okay,” Seonghwa smiles a little, “I’ll leave you be,”

“I’m okay,” You glance back to Yunho and Mingi, and their eyes are holding on to anything but you and Seonghwa. 

“I just needed to see you and make sure, and to talk to you about things,” Seonghwa explains, pushing himself up to stand, “I don’t know what will happen, but I’ll do whatever I can to make sure it doesn’t affect you,” 

You stand with him and shake your head again, “Whatever happens with Minseok, we’ll deal with it together. Don’t put that on yourself, please,” 

He nods, and then you pull him into a hug, a quick squeeze before he steps away. 

“That’s it?” Mingi’s voice is incredulous as he stands up, “You’re leaving her?” 

You turn, fully confused by the sudden bubbling anger in Mingi, “What?” 

“I mean,” Seonghwa looks just as confused, “it seems like you’ve got things covered?” 

“Covered?” Mingi’s voice tightens. 

“Mingi,” Yunho tugs at his friend’s arm, “sit down,” 

“You’re seriously going?” Mingi repeats. 

The tension in the room is bizarre, the comforting moment you had with your friend completely undercut and you keep looking to Yunho for clarity but he just won’t look you in the eye, his eyes are set on Mingi. 

“I’m seriously confused,” Seonghwa looks between you and them, “y/n?” 

Your mouth is open, nothing really making sense for how quick to anger Mingi is in this moment, especially now, and all you can do is look to Mingi for answers, but you find little in his fierce gaze. 

“I’m just saying,” Mingi’s jaw sets hard, “if something like this happened to my girlfriend I wouldn’t be so quick for the door,” 

“My what?” Seonghwa glances down at you. 

The words don’t make sense, “I have no idea,” you manage, “what are you talking about?” 

“What are you talking about?” Mingi takes a half step back, eyes flicking between you. 

There’s a long beat of silence, and finally, finally, someone speaks. 

“You’re not together,” Yunho says, not a question but a realization. 

Pins slot into place, every little moment over the past few months coming into perfect clarity. You answer him anyways, “No, we’re not,” 

“Were you?” He clarifies. 

“Not like that,” You shake your head. 

“Oh,” Mingi’s hands relax, talking a half step backwards as the realization hits him. 

“You thought we were dating?” Seonghwa finally says, gesturing between the two of you. 

“Well,” Mingi clears his throat, “yeah,” 

“We’re not,” You confirm again and Yunho grins. Your stomach flips. 

“I really thought…” Yunho trails off, shaking his head. 

“Why would I have come home with you last night if he and I are together?” You trail off. 

“Yesterday was insane,” Mingi reasons, “I would have taken you anywhere you wanted to go if it made you feel better, I wasn’t questioning it,” 

“Oh,” You soften at that.

“But I guess I was wrong,” Mingi looks a little sheepish when he looks at Seonghwa. 

“Yeah,” Seonghwa squeezes your hand and then drops it, “y/n is… great, wonderful even, but it was never like that. I’m in love with someone else.” 

Your heart twists, knowing exactly what he means. 

“Fuck,” Mingi rubs the back of his neck, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to act like such an ass,” 

“No, no,” Seonghwa waves him off, “I get it,” 

“But,” Yunho looks up, and his eyes on yours freezes you to the spot, “I thought you said you had something to tell us?”

“And you thought it was that I’m dating Seonghwa?” 

“I thought you were trying to let us down easy,” He blurts out.

“No, that wasn’t…” You can’t fight the smile off your face now, “that’s not it at all,” 

His lips part, realization filling his features, “God, we’re idiots,” 

“Kind of,” 

“I should have just asked you on tour,” Mingi all but blushes and it’s quite possibly the first time you’ve ever seen him be so embarrassed.  

The moment is so absurd, so tangibly comical after last night and you can’t help but laugh again, “You thought I was that excited to see you after three months just to tell you that I’m dating one of your best friends?” 

“When you say it like that,” Yunho trails off. 

“Wow,” You clap a hand over your lips, “Woo is going to have a field day,” 

Seonghwa snorts softly, but stays quiet. 

“So if you’re not together, and weren’t together,” Mingi starts, lights going off in his brain as he rewrites all the things he thought he knew, his eyes find yours and hold steady. 

Butterflies start in your stomach, you feel it in the air like something’s about to shift under your feet and you should be bracing yourself. This is not the moment you imagined, not in the slightest, but there’s something steady about the way he’s looking at you and you want to reach out and grab onto it. 

Seonghwa softly clears his throat and takes a step towards the door, “I should go,” he says, “you look like you need some space,” 

You do, but you spin quick and catch his hand as he turns, “Wait, Hwa,” 

He pauses, glancing up over your shoulder at them before looking down to you again. 

“I have to thank you before you go,” You squeeze his hand, “I’m… I don’t know what else to say, but I,”

“Come here,” Seonghwa tucks you into his chest, hugging you close, “I’d do it again in a minute,” 

“I know,” 

“We may not be dating,” He says, and you can practically see the smile on his mouth, “but you’re one of my best friends and I’d do anything for you, okay?” 

“Okay,” You squeeze him tighter. 

He sighs, letting you go and pressing a quick, chaste kiss to your cheek, “Call me if you need me, okay?” 

“I will,” You nod. 

“And text Wooyoung back,” He says, almost an afterthought, “he was flipping out this morning,” 

“Tell him I’m fine,” You say, “I’ll message him later,” 

“I’m here for anything,” He reiterates, “and I’ll let everyone know you’re doing alright,” 

“Thank you, Seonghwa, really,” 

He nods, “I’ll let myself out,” he says quietly, and then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him. 

You don’t quite know what’s about to happen when you turn around but the butterflies in your stomach triple. Silence stretches between the three of you, and you know that the conversation you wanted carefully planned is happening now whether you’re emotionally prepared for it or not, no matter what happened yesterday. 

You turn back to them and the words slip out as you process everything out loud, “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t just ask me,”  

“You asked us not to,” Yunho says quietly, “and after what happened before…” 

“Yun,” You start, looking between them, but he presses forwards. 

“We didn’t listen to you then,” Yunho says, “I wasn’t going to fuck this up again,” 

Mingi’s quiet, his eyes downcast as he thinks, and your stomach turns into anxious knots. 

“Maybe this isn’t the time,” You murmur, and you’re about to say more but Mingi cuts you off. 

“No, please,” Mingi’s head snaps up, “not this time, this time we need to talk.” 

“Okay,” You breathe. 

“I should have said it in the letter,” Mingi clears his throat and finally holds your gaze for longer than a second, “maybe that would have made this easier, but, I’ll say it now.”

“Mingi,” 

“I love you,” He says, letting the words live in the space between you for just a moment before he continues, “I’ve loved you for a long time. You can tell me no, you can go if you want to, but we’ve spent so long not saying anything to each other, so I have to say this.” 

“You love me,” Your stomach flutters, heart pounding in your chest. 

“Yes,” Mingi nods, no hesitation or wavering, matter of fact, one of the things you’ve always loved about him. 

The air feels a little thinner in the room, like the altitude has changed, and you swallow thickly. You need to get your emotions under control, but Yunho’s stayed so quiet you don’t know what to think. When you glance at him, your chest aches. He’s watching you carefully, and you can see the nervous energy in him, the way his hands fidget and clench. 

“Yunho,” You manage. 

“You know how I feel,” He says, “by now… I know you know,” 

“No,” You can’t accept it and you shake your head, “tell me for real.”

Yunho drags a hand over his face and back through his hair, and then finally he meets your eyes again, “I’m,” his voice wavers slightly, “sweetheart, I’m still so in love with you.” 

“Still?” You hitch on the word. 

“It’s been a long time for me too,” He nods.

  You take in their words, stepping back, pacing a little as you process. You don’t really know where you’re going, you just need to move, to take some of the pressure of their eyes off, and you take deep breaths as you do. You can feel their tension, their fear that you’ll bolt again but strangely this time you don’t need to run. You just need a minute. 

“And yesterday,” You slow to a stop from your position behind their couch, “this isn’t some… reaction to what Minseok did, it’s not,” 

“When I wrote you that letter,” Mingi interrupts your anxieties, “we hadn’t seen each other in weeks. I could have told you I loved you then, this has nothing to do with him. This has to do with us, the three of us.” 

Your mind flicks back to your confession to Wooyoung months ago, the way he held you as you cried buckets of tears over them. The sickening realization that your heat with them did mean something, and you had been fighting your own heart ever since. You want to love them now so badly it tugs at your insides, flooding your eyes again with tears. 

“Don’t cry,” Yunho’s on his feet the minute he sees your eyes clouding over, “the last thing we want to do is make you cry after everything,” 

“It’s fine,” You manage, hastily wiping tears away before they have chance to really wet your cheeks, “it’s just been a very long two days,” 

“We’ll talk about this later,” Yunho reaches for you, “come here,” 

You take a step back from him and shake your head, swallowing back your emotions and trying to figure out how in the world you’re going to articulate this. 

He stops dead, and you watch Mingi’s face fall. 

“Our dinner,” You start off, “I had a lot I wanted to say to you both, and after yesterday, I don’t know my head is all twisted up, I’m not going to do this right,” 

“Maybe you’re right, we don’t have to do this now,” Mingi shakes his head, and you realize now that he thinks you’re rejecting them, once and for all. 

“Mingi, stop,” You cut him off, “I need you to let me get this out,” 

He stays silent. 

“We’ve been dealing with this for so long,” You start, “there’s been a lot of things said, and I guess unsaid too,” 

Yunho nods but keeps any thoughts to himself while you parse through your words. 

“I tried for a really long time to move on,” You manage, “and so much has happened but yesterday was,” you shake your head, trying to keep the strain out of your voice and get this out, “you know what it was. But you were both there for me and you took care of me, and I don’t have the words to thank you for something like that.”

“You don’t,” Yunho starts but you shake your head and hold out a hand to stop his words. 

You take a deep breath, and then you take the leap, “I was going to apologize to you. This thing between us… I broke it too. I was angry that night at the studio, and I wish I could take so much of it back. I was hurt, but I said things that I’m so, so sorry for.”

“I was planning on telling you that first,” You continue, “and then I was planning on telling you that while you were gone, I thought about you everyday. I thought about us and what you mean to me, about what I wanted, and I need to tell you first that I lied. That weekend, my heat, it meant more to me than I ever understood. It wasn’t just sex, and I’m sorry I said it, I’m sorry for so much,” 

“y/n,” Yunho says softly, but you shake your head. 

“I’m,” The words bubble up and lodge right in your throat. It should be easy, you love them. They said it first, it should roll right off your tongue, but it just doesn’t. You take a tight, hard swallow and try again, “I don’t, what I’m trying to say is that,” 

“Hey, hey,” Mingi’s close the minute he sees you floundering, cupping your cheeks and hushing your panicked little breaths, “you don’t have to say anything, especially not right now.” 

“But,” Your throat feels raw, “but I don’t want,” 

“Shh, shh,” He shakes his head, smoothing his thumb across your cheekbone, “slow down, go easy,” 

It all feels like it’s opening inside you, the tense knot from yesterday, your feelings for them wrapped up inside it, the way your omega keeps clinging to them as yours. The way you almost lost them. Tears spill over your cheeks again and you choke out a weak cry, “I’m sorry,” 

Mingi shifts forwards, scooping you up in his arms to cradle you against his chest just like yesterday, “You have nothing to be sorry for, nothing at all.” 

“I want to tell you,” You confess into his shoulder, “I have to tell you,” 

“Baby, please,” Mingi soothes, “just take a deep breath,”

“Mingi,” Yunho murmurs low, having moved closer to the two of you, “let’s sit, come here,” 

You keep your head pressed against his skin, your body feeling ragged and exhausted, memories from yesterday flooding up and the scent of your alphas making you dizzy, and you think if you cry any more it might make you sick but you just don’t know how to stop. 

Mingi moves with you, settling down onto the couch and you can hear Yunho shifting around the room, but you don’t know what he’s doing until a familiar soft blanket wraps around your body. 

“Breathe, baby,” Mingi prompts you again, “we’re right here.” 

“Yunho?” You blink hard as you lift your head from Mingi’s neck, reaching to search for him. 

“Right here,” Yunho is tucked close to you and Mingi, and he takes your hand in his, drawing your eyes to his, “I’m right here with you,” 

“I’m sorry,” You stammer, tears finally subsiding just enough, “I d-don’t know what’s wrong,” 

It feels so familiar, this moment, like the overloading torrent of emotion that came after your broken heat so many months ago, only this time the sick pit in your stomach is worse. The stakes feel so much higher, and the echo of hands on your hips and teeth at your throat keep flickering through your mind. 

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” Yunho squeezes your hand, sliding closer still and brushing his hand over the back of your head, “but it will pass, and we’re not going anywhere,” 

“But I need to explain,” Your throat feels like it’s closing. 

“You don’t,” Mingi eases you back from his chest so that you’re perched on his lap, and he guides your face up to his so he can meet your eyes, “right now you just need to breathe,” 

He’s right, the hysteria working its way through your system will only grow unless you start to get your arms around it. You grip Yunho’s hand tighter and start to try and regulate your breath, letting your eyes slip closed as you focus, the little shuddering starts melting into deeper and steadier inhales and exhales the longer you work at it. 

You start to focus on things you can feel in your mind, things you know are real. Mingi’s warm body under yours, the cool metal of Yunho’s ring against your finger, a weighty hand on your right hip, the distant sound of a voice in the apartment next door. You’re home, you’re safe. 

When your eyes open they’re not looking at you but looking at each other, worried little creases in their brows as they communicate silently with their eyes. 

“Hey,” Your voice is small when you first speak, weak from exhaustion. 

“Hey,” Yunho smiles when he sees your eyes open, squeezing your hand again. 

“Feeling a little better?” Mingi murmurs, hand stroking your back. 

You shrug and wet your lips, “Not really,” 

“Then I think we should talk about this another time,” Mingi maintains, “do you want to try and get some more sleep, or,”

You shake your head and press a palm to the center of his chest, “No, I need to say this,” 

“It can wait,” 

“Not for me,” You insist, “I’ll just keep thinking about it,” 

“Alright,” Yunho smooths your hair over your shoulder and keeps a steady palm against your back. 

With a deep breath you steady your mind, get your words right, and then finally try again. “I don’t want the first time I tell you I love you to be mixed up in everything that happened yesterday. Everything feels so confusing and overwhelming because of what happened, but I don’t,” Your fingers knot tighter in Mingi’s shirt, “I can’t lose you again, so I just need you to know what I wanted to tell you on Saturday,” 

Yunho’s hand stills on your back, and Mingi’s eyes flick down. 

Nerves flood you, terrify you to your core, and you flounder again, “I know I should be able to get it together and to say it like you deserve, but I just need a little time, I don’t want to be thinking about him or feeling him when I think about us.” 

Yunho shifts forwards, his lips connecting with your forehead softly as he holds you to him, and he lets the warmth of his skin linger on yours. A sharp, wet noise draws your eyes back up and disconnects you and you realize Mingi’s crying, tears tracking down his cheeks and his eyes shining. 

“Mingi,” You reach for him, disconnecting Yunho as you cup Mingi’s cheeks, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just need a little time,”

He shakes his head, bringing his hands up to hold yours, “It’s not that, I swear to god, it’s not that.” 

“Then,” 

“I could fucking kill him, I really could,” The edge in his voice sends a chill up your back, and you watch as he swallows hard and takes a deep breath to get his own tears under control. 

“Hey, come on,” You try again, “I’m fine, look at me,” 

“You’re not fine,” Yunho shakes his head, “you just said so,” 

Mingi nods, his eyes opening. 

“But I don’t want you to be upset,” You smooth the tears away from Mingi’s cheeks. 

“I’m not upset because of you,” Mingi turns his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, “I’m upset because someone almost took you from us,” 

The air in the room feels thin at the truth of it, and Yunho looks down at his words, his hand tightening on your hip. 

Mingi curls his hands around yours and draws them away from his cheeks, entwining your fingers and resting your combined hands on his chest, “He almost took you from yourself,” he says softly, “that’s why I’m upset.”

“He didn’t,” You soothe him, “I’m right here,” 

“You don’t have to make us feel better right now,” Yunho shakes his head, finally looking up, “You should feel whatever you want, and if you need time, we can give that to you.”  

Mingi nods, “He’s right, I’m angry, but that’s not for you to fix.” 

“We don’t need anything right now,” Yunho murmurs, his hand stroking up and down the length of your back slowly, “just tell us if we’re not doing something you need,” 

“That’s not fair,” You smile softly, “you went through something too,” 

Mingi hums, disconnecting your hands so he can rub any evidence of his tears away before he sighs, “Remember when I told you it was our job to provide for you?” 

You remember how those words made you feel then, so safe in a moment of such confusion and emotion. Your shoulders drop, muscles relaxing as you try this time to listen to him, and you nod at his words. 

“It’s our job always,” His hands return to yours, “and right now you have to trust us to hear you and do better by you,” 

“But I made mistakes too,” You start to interject but he shakes his head. 

“Babe,” He sighs, “none of it matters, not anymore.” 

You were supposed to do this differently, to tell them your story and how you felt, and get all the things they didn’t know on the table, you were supposed to let them make an informed choice, but your voice just won’t come the way you need it to, “I just don’t want to lose you,”  

“You won’t,” Yunho says firmly, “why do you think that’s going to happen?” 

“There’s more to tell you,” You confess, “and last time I should have been honest, but I wasn’t and look where that got us,” 

“I don’t think there’s anything you could tell me now that would make me not love you,” Yunho says, smoothing his thumb over your cheekbone, “and we’re being honest now, that’s enough for me.” 

“How do you know that?” You scrub away tears that threaten to fall.

  “Because I missed you everyday,” He says simply, “and because I didn’t feel home again until I saw you at the party, and yesterday when I thought you were hurt I couldn’t breathe. I’m not going anywhere this time, all I want is us. All three of us.” 

“Me too,” Mingi clears his throat to get rid of the resurgence of emotion, “it feels right when it’s us, I’m not willing to lose that.” 

Your shoulders drop, all the tension you’ve been carrying for months falling away. They love you, they want you, even still. You collapse against them, pulling them both tight to you and resting on their touching shoulders. “Are you sure you can wait?” You whisper into Mingi’s sleeve. 

“Yes,” Yunho reiterates, “of course we can,” 

You nod against them, letting their arms fold around you and keep you tucked close. 

Mingi strokes your hair, his wide palm cradling the back of your head when he asks, “Does it bother you if we say it? If we tell you how we feel? Or should we give you some time?” 

“You can always tell me,” You can’t go backwards now, “I’m done not telling each other things,” 

Mingi presses his lips to your head, “Then I really fucking love you,” he murmurs soft in your ear, “and I don’t know what we’re doing, but as long as we’re together we’re going to be okay.”

Tears well in your eyes, the truth of is words cocooning around you, “I believe you,” 

The day takes time to pass, and short of Mingi fixing you something to eat for dinner, you all spend it cuddled close on the couch together. Movies play on the television, fingers card softly through your hair, and no one talks anymore about what happened or what it all means. 

Your original plan on Saturday would have been so much easier than this, you wouldn’t feel flayed open and raw and terrified to close your eyes or step into a room where you can’t see them in your eyeline, but you won’t lie and say you aren’t still grateful to be here and in their arms. You’re so sick of taking the hard road to get to them, but maybe together it can be different. 

Later, at night and in bed again, you sink into that feeling of gratitude. You missed this, the feeling of them next to you, the weight of their hands and the warmth of their chests. Any fear or hesitation you might have felt about your future with these two alphas is dissipating with every passing minute. They made mistakes and so did you, but when things got hard, really and truly hard, they’ve been everything. 

From your position curled against Mingi, you stretch and press a warm kiss to his neck, taking a comforting inhale of his rich scent, letting it work through your body and keep you warm. He sighs pleasantly at the feeling, and you wriggle up in their combined hold until you can find Mingi’s lips. 

He’s hesitant at first, letting you set the pace this time. His mouth is comfortingly familiar and you ease into each other, sharing a quiet breath and nuzzling his nose between gentle close lipped kisses. He sighs against you, his hand tightening on your side, and you flash back in your mind to the last kiss with him in the studio room. 

Flickers of the studio make your pulse quicken and your palms clammy, and you break your lips away from Mingi for a second of fresh air and to stop the sudden nerves sparking up the back of your brain. 

Twisting in their arms you turn to face Yunho, keeping Mingi still close at your back while you find Yunho’s cheek and tug him down to your mouth. He makes a soft, surprised noise, and you realize that you’ve never kissed him outside of your heat before. He’s so warm, so instantly responsive to your touch and you pull him a little closer still, letting your legs tangle together under the sheet. 

“Baby,” He whispers, fingers running over your hip and down your thigh. 

Your lips part, his tongue catching on yours as it dips into your mouth, deepening the kiss and your heart picks up again. You shift your hand, fingers catching under the edge of his t-shirt, just a little more skin on precious skin. Mingi’s hand drops from your hip to your stomach as he edges closer behind you, his wide palm stretching across the expanse of your belly. You shiver, a breathy sound from your lips you can’t catch. 

Yunho hums softly, pleasantly, kissing along your jaw the way he knows you love. 

You let your eyes slip closed, the sensation of them filling every space around you. 

Yunho kisses to the hollow of your ear and then travels lower, shifting to press his lips over the smooth column of your throat, but you feel the tense knot form again in the pit of your stomach. You feel hands on your hips where they shouldn’t be, you see a snapshot of your face in the practice room mirror, the ghost of a tug of your hair. 

At the first soft touch of Yunho’s tongue against your tender gland you jerk back and shake your head, eyes fluttering open, “I can’t, I’m sorry I can’t,” 

He pulls away immediately, hands off you as you press back into Mingi’s chest, “That’s okay,” 

Mingi wraps his arms around you to soothe you, “Your heart’s racing,” he murmurs, “babe, you’re safe, you’re with us,” 

“I know,” You nod, taking a deep steadying breath. 

Yunho cups your cheek, “I didn’t mean to scare you,” 

“It’s not you,” You assure him, “I just think I need some time before we do anything again,” 

He nods, “Anything you want,” 

“I just,” You try to explain, “for a second I thought I was back in the studio,” 

“You’re not,” Mingi reminds you, “and you don’t ever even have to go back in that room if you don’t want to,” 

“That’s not very practical,” You smile, kissing his forearm where his arm crosses over your chest as your racing pulse starts to slow. 

“I’m being serious,” He says. 

“I know you are,” You nod, “but I’m alright, I just think I need a few days away.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Yunho eases closer now that he can sense your heightened spike of panic is calming, “I’ll join you.” 

“Same,” Mingi rests his head on yours. 

“You don’t have to skip work for me,” 

“Honestly,” Yunho says, “it would make me feel better to stay with you, I’d be useless at the studio right now,” 

Mingi nods in quiet agreement. 

“Can I be honest?” You murmur in the dark. 

“Always,” Yunho nods. 

You find Yunho’s hand to hold and confess a little more to them, “I want you to stay, I feel like you’re both the only thing keeping me present right now, I keep worrying that I’ll slip back there,”

Mingi shifts behind you so he can properly see your face in the deep blue light, “Into headspace?” 

You nod, the echo of it in your mind, “It was so awful,” 

“I don’t think that can happen,” Mingi shakes his head, “you can’t just fall into it without someone putting you there.” 

You remember the distinct way you felt pulled under, the sudden tug downwards and the way you felt so insulated and trapped inside your own mind. You swallow hard and meet his eyes, “I’ve heard of it happening, omegas getting stuck, I don’t want to feel that ever again, I can’t feel that ever again,” 

“Hey, hey,” Yunho presses his hand over your heart and strokes your gland softly with the pad of his thumb, “that’s not going to happen,”

“He’s right,” Mingi kisses your forehead softly, “stories like that are rare, those omegas went through years of abuse and that’s awful, but it’s not you. No one is ever, ever, getting the chance to do that to you again.” 

“No one,” Yunho reiterates, still soothing your sore gland, “not us, not anyone.” 

“I just,” You sigh, “I keep feeling it when I close my eyes,” 

Yunho reaches out and brushes back your hair, his fingers smoothing against your temple, “Is that what your nightmare was about?” 

You nod. 

“You were there again?” He clarifies. 

“Yeah,” 

“What was it like?” Mingi murmurs his question, keeping it soft. Not a demand or a need, but an opening. Yunho’s eyes flick away from yours to his, but he waits to see if you’ll answer. 

Your mouth feels a little dry and you wet your lips as you think about how to describe it. You let their hands tether you as your eyes slip closed, “You know that feeling when your ears are full of water? The way everything sounds like you’re hearing it through a wall?” 

“Mhm,” Mingi murmurs. 

“It’s like that,” You explain, “like I was at the bottom of a lake or a pool and I knew something was happening around me, but I couldn’t tell what.”

“Do you remember anything?” Yunho asks. 

You shake your head, “Yes and no,” but you can see it in your minds eye, “I remember you both looked so scared and I remember wanting to ask you what was wrong, but I couldn’t,” 

They’re quiet now, only the thready sounds of their breath and yours as they listen. 

“He told me not to move,” You explain, “and to keep my mouth shut,” 

Mingi’s hand finds yours in the dark. 

“He said, ‘don’t move an inch’,” You feel Minseok’s words against your throat, the final push that sent you over the edge, “and I couldn’t, even when you were there and not him,” 

His thumb brushes over the back of your hand. 

“I remember you telling me to come up,” You continue, “I’ve never heard you sound like that before,” 

“You’ll never hear me sound like that again,” He says, his voice tight, “I just didn’t know what else to do,” 

“It worked,” You let your eyes open again, “that’s all that matters.” 

“Maybe,” He murmurs, and even though he doesn’t say more you can tell that he’s still a little shaken about using his own alpha tone on you at that moment. 

Yunho shifts in the covers, “Jagiya,” he says, “I think you should talk to someone about this,” 

“I’ll be alright,” You shake your head, “it’s just fresh and I need more sleep,” 

“Just think about it,” he says, “you can always talk to us, always, but we’re not professionals,” 

He’s not wrong, but the idea of opening up more than you already have makes something twist a little in your gut. You nod anyways, “I’ll think about it,” 

They stay quiet for a little while, and you take a minute to come back to your senses completely after letting the idea and the feeling of headspace occupy your mind for even just a few minutes. When you do, you realize that while Mingi is still cuddled up to your back, there’s at least a foot of space between you and Yunho, despite the way his long arms afford him the ability to still stroke your hair from this angle. 

“Come back over here,” You say suddenly, tugging on his t-shirt. 

“You sure?” He checks as he eases across the mattress. 

“Mhm,” You nod, letting his arms settle around you too. 

Confessions bubble up in your chest, the sudden need to keep being honest flooding you. 

In the dark, things are always easier. 

“I need to tell you something,” You murmur into Yunho’s shoulder. 

“Anything,” Mingi says quickly, his body still behind yours. 

You say it as plainly as you can, “My last heat was more complicated than I told you before,” 

“Okay,” Yunho murmurs, his voice a little hesitant as he waits for you to say more. 

“I called Seonghwa, but he was with Wooyoung at the time,” You explain, “and Woo has a whole little heat sanctuary at his apartment, so I spent my heat there with them,” 

“Is that what you’ve been so scared to tell us?” Mingi murmurs, his breath tickling your cheek. 

“San came to find his friends because they weren’t answering their phones,” You just have to get it all out, “but he stayed, I asked him to stay too.” 

“Oh,” Yunho trails off for a moment and Mingi’s steady breath stops. 

You brace yourself for the worst of it, your eyes closing tight, but then Yunho says, “San and Seonghwa usually spend Wooyoung’s heats together, right?” 

“Yeah,” Your eyes open again in the darkness. 

“And they took care of you okay?” He asks. 

“They did,” 

“And you…” Yunho struggles to find the right words, “you wanted everything? They didn’t push you or,”

“No,” You assure him, “it was all my choice,”

“Okay,” 

“You’re not angry?” You expected more of a fight, especially after how betrayed they looked after Seonghwa. 

Mingi sighs and you feel his head shake against yours, “You’re here with us now,” he says, “and you said it back then, we weren’t dating, no one cheated,”

“Oh,” Your tight fists unfurl. 

“y/n,” Mingi cups your hip and shifts behind you, “I think I already know the answer, but I’ve been wrong about what’s been going on for months, so can I ask you something?” 

“Anything,” You repeat his words back to him. 

“Was it just heat? Or do you want them too?” 

“Just heat,” You assure him immediately, finding his hand and interlocking  your fingers, “I promise you, it was just heat.” 

“Okay,” He nods. 

“Honestly,” You add quietly, “I don’t think I let myself understand what being with you both had meant until I experienced something different. I’ve never felt the way I felt with you both, before or after,” 

Mingi nods again, and Yunho’s lips connect gently with your forehead. 

“I understand if this is too much,” You start to say, but Yunho pulls back with a sharp intake of breath. 

“No, y/n,” he cups your cheek, “it was hard to see things clearly in the moment that day, we were worried about you and I’ll admit I was jealous too, but you didn’t do anything wrong and we handled it more than poorly,” 

“You’re friends with them,” You point out softly, still waiting for the moment they let your words sink in.  

“So are you,” Mingi says easily.  

Yunho runs his hand along your arm, “If you wanted to be with someone else, would you be here?” 

“No,” You answer immediately. 

“That’s enough for me,” 

“Me too,” Mingi adds, “I just want to move forward,”  

“Exactly,” Yunho finds your clasped hands in the dark and holds them both. 

“Hearing you say you and Hwa aren’t together,” Mingi presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, “I’ve never been so happy to be wrong about something, this changes nothing, babe,” 

Your body unknots in their hands, “Okay,” 

“Is that everything you wanted to tell us?” Yunho squeezes you softly. 

“That’s everything,”

The room feels lighter with nothing between you.  

“Well,” Yunho shifts closer and presses another kiss to your forehead, “I love you,” 

Mingi’s nuzzles another kiss  to your shoulder, “I love you too,” 

Relief spreads through your body, and you tug them closer until you’re sandwiched perfectly between them once again. The weight sitting on your chest is suddenly gone. 

There’s nothing more to say tonight, nothing more to do, but held between them with your legs all tangled together under the sheet you feel safe. You’re tired, exhausted even, but for a little while you can’t close your eyes. You listen to the way their breath evens out as they drop into sleep, gentle, rhythmic sighs as their bodies relax into yours. You listen to the city outside, the hum of the forced air unit, the distant click of a door shutting in the adjacent apartment. You focus on all the things you can feel, all the things you can hear. They way you’re here, present in your body. 

Yunho shifts, rolling away just enough that you dip forwards with him and you end up against his chest. His heart thumps low and slow against your cheek. Mingi makes a soft sound at being disturbed, his body attaching back onto you like a magnet as he reaches over and hitches up his leg, cuddling you both. 

You didn’t know it was possible to miss a person this much, let alone two. 

Your throat tightens up, a feeling deep in your chest and you press your eyes closed. You whisper soft against their skin, practicing the words on your lips, “I love you,”

In the dark, you make them this little promise. 

#this night together fic #tnt fic #honeyhotteoks fic #honeyhotteoks updates #yungi ff #yungi fic #yungi smut #ateez ff #ateez series #ateez fic #yunho series #yunho ff #yunho fic #yunho x reader #mingi fic #mingi ff #mingi series #mingi x reader #honeyhotteoks fics

[luxaofhesperides]

Accidental Bride Sacrifice ; requested by @starlightcat04!

Danny has long since gotten used to the feel of summonings. They don’t happen often, but sometimes the right components are put together to force him into answering, and he’d have to go as the new Ghost King.

Which no one told him was a thing! He hadn’t protested too much about the whole Ghost King deal when they finally told him about it after he graduated high school. It gave him a good excuse to ditch life in the living realm and not worry about college or a career, and let him really embrace his ghost side. 

The summonings are a problem, though. They always feel staticky and bad, like a dumpster that just got struck by lightning. The taste of iron on his tongue, a clear sign of blood being spilled, lets him know that it would be one of end the world for us summonings, because some people can’t put in the effort to do it themselves, apparently. 

But this time, the summoning feels different.

Danny pauses, eyes going unfocused in the middle of his conversation with Jazz. He had been looking forward to spending the week with her, now that she’s on winter break, but his luck is as bad as always.

“I’m being summoned,” he tells her, cutting off her rant about a transphobic professor she had. 

“Oh, no. Do you need me to do anything? Should I go with you to beat up whoever it is that’s summoning you?”

Danny tilts his head to the side, considering. The taste of blood is noticeably absent. In fact, this summoning pull doesn’t make him feel sick at all. It makes him feel warm, as if he’s just been wrapped in a hug.

“No,” he says. “I think I’m good. This one feels different.”

“A good different?” Jazz asks, worry clear in her voice.

“Yeah. A good different. I’ll come back soon, okay?”

“Alright. Be careful, Danny.” Jazz pulls him into a quick hug, then steps back to watch as Danny stops fighting the pull of the summoning and disappears into a swirling white rings that flashes into existence behind him, blinding her for a moment, and is gone when she manages to blink the spots out of her vision. 

For a minute, Danny drifts in a void of stillness, traveling through the realms as the summoning draws him closer to the correct realm. And then he’s rising out of the ground in a dark building made of concrete, candles of green flame scattered all over the place.

“Great One!” someone in a hooded cloak cries, raising his arms in jubilation. “Our calls have been answered!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” a mechanical voice yells from farther back. When Danny looks past the cultists’ heads, he spots a man in a red hood and leather jacket chained to a pole, along with a bunch of other people in strange costumes tied up, desperately trying to free themselves. 

“Silence!” The leader of the cult, or who Danny assumes is the leader, snaps at the hooded man and gestures to the people off to his left. They force another costumed person forward, this one in yellow armor. He can see the blood running down their face from beneath their helmet and from their nose, dark lines of blood cutting through their brown skin. 

The cultists throw the armored person forward, forcing them to kneel. Then they bow to Danny and step back.

“Great One,” the leader says, voice unpleasantly reverent and grating, “Welcome to the mortal realms. We offer you this sacrifice to feed your strength. He will make a fine general for your undead army in your crusade to rid this world of its filth.”

The people in the back begin shouting all together, panicked voices overlapping, and Danny is left staring down at the cultists in shock.

The summoning had felt so nice. What the hell was this? He did not sign up for another ‘end of days’ insane cult. He just wanted to be hugged. 

His silence makes the cultists nervous. They begin to shift uneasily, whispering to each other, and the leader clears his throat, then pulls a large crystal dagger out of his cloak. “We shall prove our devotion to you through an offering of a hero’s blood!”

And then he moves towards the sacrifice and Danny snaps out of his shock to yell, “Wait!”

The entire room freezes. Even the costumed people in the back go still. 

Danny winces, then tries to smother his power, make himself more palatable to the humans of this dimension. “Wait,” he says again, and he sounds closer to human now. If he could, he would drop his ghost form entirely, but he knows better than to endanger himself like that. “What, exactly, did you summon me here for?”

The cult leader stares at him for a moment. “To… To rid the world of filth and allow your loyal followers to spread word of your power. You will be worshiped again, Great One, and serve as a reminder to man that Death shall always prevail.”

“Okay, I get that, but I was talking more along the lines of the summoning. What ritual did you use? What specifically were the summoning requirements?”

Normally, he’d be able to figure it out himself, but these cultists didn’t use a summoning circle. So they did something else, something less visible and therefore harder to figure out, in order to bring him here.

A woman standing off to the side speaks up, stepping forward hesitantly. “I had pieced together a few summoning spells from this book to bring you here. You had to accept our chosen sacrifice to your side in order for the summoning to work.”

“Hold up that book for me, please?”

She does, and Danny flies down to grab it from her hands. “Point out which lines you used,” he says, already reading a few of the words written down. It’s definitely ghostspeak written down, which should be near impossible for living humans to translate without being skilled in magic.

“Ah, these ones.” She points to each line, reading them out for him, and Danny starts understand what, exactly, went wrong.

“Is there a problem, Great One?”

Danny returns the book then floats over to the sacrifice and picks him up. The costumed people make alarmed noises, but quietly quiet down again when all Danny does is move him away from the cultists.

“Okay,” he says, “So. The lines you used to summon me were not translated properly. What you interpreted as ‘accepted to stay by the king’s side in loyalty and strength’ is not meant to be, like, him being part of my undead army or whatever. It’s a royal marriage vow.”

“They married us?” the sacrifice shouts, disbelieving. The cult leader buries his face in his hands and sighs.

“My deepest apologies, Great One. We meant no offense. We simply wanted to aid in your destruction of this depraved world.”

Danny scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fly with me. I do not do the biding of random people, especially those who are ready to murder innocent people for no reason. Frighty, if you would.” He snaps his fingers, calling up Fright Knight who always enjoys getting to torment the people who summon Danny for murderous reasons.

Fright Knight appears in a swirl of darkness and screams. Shadows swallow the room, and when they recede, no cultists remain.

“Thanks, Frighty. Have fun with them. I need to figure out all… this.”

Fright Knight bows to him, then disappears. Danny lets out a breath, then floats down lower to be eye level with the sacrifice. “Hey,” he says gently, with a smile, “I’m so sorry they did this to you. I’m Danny. What’s your name?”

“Du— Uh, Signal,” the sacrifice says, sounding rather dazed. 

“Signal,” Danny repeats. “Like… a traffic signal?”

“No. I mean, maybe? But it is Signal. That’s my hero name, not my real name.”

“Oh, you’re a hero!” His getup makes more sense now. Danny checks him over for any signs of injuries. So far, only his head and nose seem to be injured, but his wrists are tightly bound behind his back. Carefully, Danny calls upon his ice and shapes it into a sharp knife, then cuts through the zipties.

He helps Signal up to his feet, floating by his shoulder. “All good?”

“Yeah, man, all good. Let me just get the others free.”

“Oh, I can do it!” Danny flies over to the other costumed people, who must also be heroes. All it takes is one link in the chain being frozen and broken for the entire thing to go lax, allowing them to free themselves. Hooded guy spares Danny a single glance, then hurries over to Signal to check on him. The other three, a man with a blue bird across his chest, a blond girl with a yellow bat outline on her chest, and a guy with bandoliers and a golden bird emblem, all watch him warily as he floats back towards the center of the room.

“So,” the blue bird man says, “If they summoned you with a marriage vow, and you accepted, does that mean you’re planning to steal Signal away from us?” He’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile.

“No! I had no idea they did this! I am so sorry you all got caught up in this. You most of all, Signal.”

Signal shrugs, nudging hood guy away from him. “Nah, man, it’s all good. This is definitely the better outcome.”

“I don’t know, being married off isn’t really a good thing.”

“Hey, at least they married me off to a decent guy.”

“You don’t know that,” Danny says, “What if I’m secretly evil?”

“If you were secretly evil, you’d be destroying the world right now. I think you’re fine.”

The blond girl waves at him, demanding his attention. “Quick question! They were calling you ‘Great One’. Are you a god or something?”

“Not really? I’m the Ghost King. So I’m a ghost who rules over other ghosts and also a majority of the Infinite Realms.”

She nods as if this is all totally normal for her, then shoots Signal a grin. “Congrats on bagging a king! Not the worst way to spend a night, right?”

“Can you break the marriage?” blue bird man asks, the lines of his shoulders tense.

Danny awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, not looking any of them in the eye. “I honestly don’t know. I can look for a way! But I genuinely have no clue. This was unexpected.”

“But you accepted.”

“I didn’t know what I expected! It just felt like a hug, and I wanted a hug! I thought I was being summoned for something nice for once!” Danny curls up, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hides his pout behind his hands. He knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help but be upset that he couldn’t have this one good experience from being Ghost King. 

It’s always responsibilities and death cult summonings and fighting ghosts who don’t think he should be king. Sure there have been some good things, but they’re comparatively few when looking at all the other stress and pain that comes with the crown. Sue him for wanting to have a nice night for once. Hell, at this point, he’d take being summoned to help with some kid’s homework, because at least then he could have a quiet night helping someone.

“Hey, man, can you come down here?” Signal asks. 

He wants to stay out of reach, hiding himself away for a bit longer, but Signal is his new, surprise, accidental husband, so Danny lowers himself to the ground and peeks through his fingers to look at him.

He tenses when Signal hugs him, soft and warm and comforting. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on, and then he’s melting into Signal’s embrace, dropping his hands to wrap them around Signal’s back.

Distantly, he can hear the other heroes talking quietly amongst themselves. He blocks out the sound as much as he can, determined to enjoy this hug while it lasts.

Which is… fairly long. Signal makes no moves to end the hug, so Danny closes his eyes to really savor the moment. 

“So,” Signal murmurs into his ear, “As newlyweds, how about we get to know each other a bit better before we start working on fixing all this?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s ditch these guys and take some time to ourselves.”

“I promise I’ll get this fixed,” he says, just to make sure Signal knows. “Genuinely, I am so sorry to have married you through an old Realms vow when you had no say in it.”

“Hey, if it lands me a very nice, very attractive king, then I don’t mind at all. I could have done without the murderous cultists, though.”

Danny huffs out a small laugh. “Oh, for sure. Thanks for being so cool about this. Want me to fly us out of here?”

“Yes please,” Signal says. Danny smiles and tightens his grip on Signal, then lifts them both up. “I’ll see y’all later! Have fun with the rest of your patrols!” he calls out to the other heroes, who start shouting at him.

Danny flies them right out the roof before the other heroes figure out a way to kick his ass. The city they’re in is smoggy and dark, tall buildings rising up into the cloudy sky, and police sirens ring through the air. There’s no where that looks like a particularly nice spot to land for a conversation, so he asks Signal where he’d like to go and follows his directions from there.

They end up phasing through a building, then into the floor, which leaves them in what Signal calls The Hatch. 

Danny takes a quick moment to freak out over being in a hero’s secret hide out, the composes himself and finally pulls away from Signal.

“So,” he starts, looking around The Hatch and taking in the giant computer, the workstation, the motorcycle farther down the way, “What did you—Woah!” Danny spins around, slamming a hand over his eyes the instant he realizes that Signal is taking off his helmet, leaving his face bare.

It’s not like he’d know who Signal is anyways, being from a different dimension, but it’s the principle of the matter.

Signal laughs when he sees Danny’s attempt to keep from looking at him. A warm hand wraps around his wrist and gently pulls it away. “It’s okay, Danny, you can look,” he says. “It would be pretty weird if my own husband didn’t know my face.”

Slowly, giving Signal to change his mind, Danny opens his eyes. He moves his gaze up, going from Signal’s armor to his face, his very cute face and his warm brown eyes, and Danny stares for a moment. 

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Signal says, fondness coloring his voice. “My name’s Duke. Are all Ghost Kings as cute as you?”

“Duke,” Danny repeats. “Hi. Um, no. The last one really sucked, actually, which is why I fought him. He was so bad the Infinite Realms didn’t want him anymore, so though I technically didn’t beat him in single combat, it was enough for the Infinite Realms to kick him out and get me on the throne.”

“Man, I can not wait to hear more of your stories. Think we got time for that while we search for a way to undo that marriage vow?”

Taking his chance, Danny says, “Sure! It’s a date.”

He’s awarded by Duke’s bright smile and idly wonders how long he can keep them married. Hopefully long enough for them to get into a real relationship where he can propose properly. And then he can get Jazz’s blessing too—

“Oh shit,” Danny realizes. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell my sister or she’s going to actually kill me.”

Duke winces. “And I should probably tell the others before Spoiler makes a mess of things… B is not going to be happy with me.”

They share a despairing look, already dreading the amount of scoldings they’re both going to get. He’s not looking forward to it.

“...Put it off until tomorrow?”

Duke nods. “Yeah. That’s a tomorrow problem. For now, how about a late dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dpxdc fanfic #dp x dc fic #prompt fill #my writing #dukes pov is just: u're abt to be sacrificed. u're mildly concussed. a cute guy glowing like the north star saved u and is now ur husband #he's had a night but all in all it ended pretty nicely! #they're gonna work together and just hang out while trying to undo the marriage summoning ritual and find they're super compatible #and then in a few years they'll be marrying each other for real :) #thanks for the prompt!!

[mewtwo24]

Not to be That Guy but like.

Am I the only one that can't stop thinking about how Tianlang-Jun says about Luo Binghe that he pretends to be cold-hearted like his mother. The hint of fondness there, the heartache in that utterance.

Like it drives me absolutely insane. Imagining her putting on a front of strength, cold and driven and unrelenting. Why does TLJ say that about her. Did she secretly look for solutions that meant reconciling with demons instead of hurting them when her sect wasn't looking? (I wonder this because I feel like his weird fondness for SQQ would lowkey track if it's connected to the woman he once loved.) Did he mean that she was tasked with basically assassinating him and she fell in love with him instead (re: failed step one)? Did he mean that she was fond and doting in her own way (e.g. conceding he was attractive, paying for his exploits and humoring him)? Did he mean that, like LBH, she thought that power would be the thing to protect her--and that it was disguising a person who was deeply and privately wounded? All four????? I don't need sleep I need a n s w e r s

Did she know about the Huanhua Palace Master's skeevy ass intentions before she met TLJ? Or did those only come to significant light after she fell in love with TLJ? Is that why she never anticipated that level of betrayal, because initially she had no intention of being with anyone romantically? And HHPM just assumed she would be under his thumb forever?? Was she furious at her own indiscretion or did she try to use the pregnancy as a bargaining chip, a way to try to stop the immortals of Cang Qiong Mountain from attacking TLJ (plus the bonus of marriage entrapment no takesies backsies this is where LBH gets it from)? Did she try to use that claim on her to dissuade HHPM from his covetous advances, framing herself as tainted so that she could finally escape? Did she dream of a life by TLJ's side, far away from Cang Qiong Mountain?

Like. Literally every single permutation of what this could mean guts me to hell. Do you ever just cry about tianxi because I--[loud bawling noises]

#svsss #tianxi #tianlang jun #su xiyan #like this shit keeps me awake at night #i'm trying to put fic ideas together and every time i go back to that line i just #find myself trying to parse and hone out su xiyan's mannerisms/personality #zzl's descriptions help a great deal but i also love that they're limited in the sense that #1. zzl was clearly scared shitless of/disconcerted with her LMFAO #2. he was suspicious of her (as a cultivator fundamentally) and its fascinating that TLJ did not seem to share this suspicion at all #or one could argue tlj just didn't care beyond his attraction and glee being around her jkahglfdskjhsfkhjg #there is also the hilarious implication that part of what turned tlj on so much about sx is the fact that she could prbly kill him #tlj really said 'i love a woman who can and WILL kick my ass' #'none of that soft power seduction shit manhandle me or nothing' #like he always believed deep down--or at the very least wanted to believe--that she loved both him and lbh dearly #i'm not usually the fix-it fic type but the Way I Need To See Su Xiyan Destroy Huanhua Palace Master's Entire Life. #i just want sx and her boytoy to live happily ever after is that so wrong? #i also think of that person (im so sorry tumblr user i dont rmr who u are at the minute) that said there had to be trust between tlj and sx #because YES. ABSOLUTELY. I AGREE. AND I WANT IT FOR ME #don't mind me just the usual descent into madness anytime i think too hard about svsss #i need to outline damn you airplane and your refusal to expand on LBH's juicy ass backstory #ill never forgive the chinese (joke)

[sailoryooons]

Hali's Fic Superlatives

Welcome to my fic superlatives, where I hand out absolutely unasked-for awards to some of my favorite characters and stories from fics that I read this year. I was going to wait until the end of the year to do these, as I still have plenty of time to read, but honestly, if I don't do them now I'm going to forget that I planned to do them at all!

Please do not take these too seriously - I did not read a ton this year but I always tried to review what I did read! My goal next year is to try and read even more and give myself time to find new writers instead of just reading what I happen to see on my dash.

This list by no means was limited to what was written this year - some of these fics were written previously but I either read them this year or re-read them for joy and I felt like they went well on this list!

CONGRATS TO THE WINNERS OF THESE UNASKED-FOR AWARDS! YOU GET MY LOVE AND ADORATION SORRY THATS IT!

☾ Angsiest Fic: Aphelion by @eoieopda ☾ Funniest Fic: The Package Thief by @blog-name-idk ☾ Fave Supernatural Fic: Bump in the Night by @colormepurplex2 ☾ Fave Fantasy Fic: The Mark of Yun-Ki  by @ladyartemesia ☾ Fave Crack Fic: Cosmic Collision by @gimmethatagustd ☾ Fave Romance Fic: Amalthea by @daechwitatamic ☾ Fave World Building: Until Death by @kpopfanfictrash ☾ Fave Holiday/Special Occasion: I Wanna Hold Your Hand by @minisugakoobies ☾ Fave Horror or Thriller: Simply Meant to Be by @caelesjjk ☾ Fave Comfort Fic: Real Magic by @here2bbtstrash ☾ Fave Soulmates Fic: 5 Times You Don’t Believe In Soulmates by Min Yoongi Does by @vyduan ☾ Fave Polyamorous: Flowers of Fate by @/colormepurplex2  ☾ Fave A/B/O: One Day At A Time by @theharrowing ☾ Fave Mafia: Collateral by @/theharrowing  ☾ Fave Namjoon Fic: Love At First Bite by @raplinesmoon ☾ Fave Seokjin Fic: Amalthea by @/daechwitatamic  ☾ Fave Yoongi Fic: Three Tangerines by @kithtaehyung ☾ Face Hoseok Fic: Please by @anotherbtswriter ☾ Fave Jimin Fic: Don’t Go Insane by @/gimmethatagustd ☾ Fave Taehyung Fic: Of Ruin by @/daechwitatamic  ☾ Fave Jungkook Fic: Crybaby by @/here2bbtstrash  ☾ Couple Most Likely To Get Married: Darksided couple as written by @/eoiepda ☾ Best Dressed Character: Keena from Blackthorn by @sweetestofchaos ☾ Best Threesome: She, by Proxy by @ugh-yoongi ☾ Most Likely to Succeed: Yoongi from Best Served Cold by @/anotherbtswriter - trust me this man has GOALS lmao ☾ Best Best Friends: Yoongi and Jin from Ugh, Fuck by @/kithtaehyung sodgjdofgi does this count as friendship soifjsofij ☾ Most Likely to Survive the Zombie Apocalypse: Taehyung from Collateral by @/theharrowing  ☾ Most Likely to Kill Each Other: Repeat Offense couple as written by @/gimmethatagustd

☾ Favorite Read of the Year: Of Ruin by @/daechwitatamic

While all of the chapters for Of Ruin are not yet posted, I’ve had the pleasure of being able to beta read this chapter ahead of the general public and it is absolutely the fic of the year for me. It is a robust story full of romance, action, intrigue, beautiful storytelling, and world-building, and it touches every single one of these categories above. It is a knockout. 

Thank you to all the amazing authors who wrote these works and had the bravery to put them into the world. If anything is tagged wrong, please do not hesitate to correct me!

#bts fics #bts fanfic #bts fic recs #lmfao this list took me weeks to put together ngl #halireads #yes i'm randomly posting this at 9:30 on a saturday night time is not linear and neither am i

[successionable]

i don't think we're talking enough about how tom and greg rocked up to logan's wake together even though tom was last seen accompanying shiv (back to their apartment, presumably) and shiv was last seen lying in bed alone

#succession #succession spoilers #succession s4 #tomgreg #tomshiv #tom either picked greg up on the way (why??) OR #they spent the night together #also love how when they arrive #tom surveys the kids in one room the old guard in another and then goes to talk to the old guard #while greg tries his luck with the kids #did they discuss beforehand and decide to divide and conquer? #(failing on all accounts but) #we know tom's fave is strategise and fuck 😏 #dear fic writers this is your cue #adding THIS frame to my list as well #succpost

[justaz]

arthur (prince of camelot) still has to study under a tutor bc yknow uther wants him to be very intelligent before becoming king or something bc its super important idk idc anyways merlin is doing chores in his chambers while arthur is squinting at a book and merlin eventually caves and asks him what he’s reading and arthur gruffly explains that its a collection of stories from greece that make absolutely no sense so merlin asks him to read them outloud to him. arthur of course teases him and calls him an idiot and asks how he could possibly help but does as he’s asked and reads the stories to merlin as he does his chores. merlin (being crushed under the weight of destiny and tormented by the prophecies that kilgharrah spews) understands the stories almost immediately and gets all excited and starts rambling about them with arthur. arthur is glad to have someone who understands so he can give something that reflects a hint of understanding to his tutor who accepts it and moves onto the next unit of education.

the thing is, arthur finds more stories in camelot’s library and brings them up to his room to read them aloud to merlin under the guise of completing his studies but really he just wants to watch as merlin’s eyes gleam when he understands whats happening and listen to him ramble on and on about them bc he’s gay. the stories stick with merlin though and he realizes that they’re cautionary tales, that the heroes who were told too much of their future doomed themself to fulfill them - that them fighting the prophecies led to their completion. merlin takes it to heart and gives a big “fuck you” to kilgharrah before forging his own fate and helping morgana with her magic and handing out an olive branch to mordred and now everyone can live happily and peacefully in an albion teeming with magic.

#merlin and arthur are of course at each others side in the end #merlin is curled up with arthur in their bed and says a silent thank you to his king for saving him #arthur returns the sentiment wholeheartedly #bbc merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merthur #fic idea #fanfic #fanfiction #headcanon #hc #head canon #merthur prompt #i have my own hc of fate vs destiny in bbc merlin and i like to incorporate that into everything i write #but then i realize that not everyone thinks that way lmao #i like to think that destiny is unavoidable. merlin and arthur are destined to form albion and lead it together #i think fate is like a fragile version of destiny #i think most people are tied to fate and will follow what they are fated to do unless those who arent tied down by fate change course #like i hc that seers are able to see the potential future of what is to happen should they not interfere #and the goddess leaves it up to them to choose. so like seers arent tied down by fate and can change the course of history #since merlin is literally magic incarnate i also think he isnt tied down by fate and can act to change things #kilgharrah told merlin the prophecy that would result in the dragon getting free and ending the pendragon line #and since merlin never got close w like any druids or magic users. no one told him the inner workings of fate vs destiny #so he listened to the dragons warnings dooming him to fulfill the prophecy that brought about one of the worst possible futures #bc the dragon was salty about his whole species being eradicated by uther and vowed to destroy the pendragon line #omg im ranting okay post over thank you and good night

[soupmanspeaks]

Michael Ao3 author AU walk with me here

"hey guys sorry I havent posted much on the Immortal and the Restless fic, I had to do this one errand my father sent me on, its actually a funny story; my dead sister actually possesed this big robot clown that killed her, and I had to like, put her scattered parts back together again, it was a whole thing, but yeah, her murder AI kind of just took over and she tricked me into being a meat suit, so that kind of sucked, and im actually organless atm, so sorry for slower updates, but it is what it is yk"

And then wayyyy later "heyyyyy what's up superstars, sorry for the long hiatus, my soul got put into a robot bear, but that's all taken care of, so chapter 27 soon :3"

#michael afton #fnaf #michael afton my beautiful pookie #five nights at freddy’s #I have nothing else to add to this au lmao this is a spur of the moment thought i had because it made me laugh in my head lol #uhhhhh idk phhhhhhsss uhhhh cc lizzie and michael bond over IatR and they write fics together yeah that'll do /pos #uhhh they find his fics in their robo ai (man idk 😭) and his banger metaphors and writing is what gets them to stop trying to kill him #glammike #<- for the soul teehee

[blitzwhore]

Nothing like watching the HB trailer at 4am with your friend even after being warned that it was intense as fuck :'D

#We are dumb but it's okay because we are dumb together #Anyway I take back what I said about being unable of writing stolitz fics that aren't angst. After watching THAT I *need* to write fluff #helluva boss #Helluva boss spoilers #Helluva spoilers #Unable to write** #I can't English this late at night

[feroluce]

Lucid Dreamer (1/2)

part 2

Gepard notices that it's been. Quiet lately. Like weirdly quiet. TOO quiet. He hasn't seen Sampo Koski in almost a week, which is about the longest he's ever been absent. And he is NOT worried. He's not! So what if they've been getting along more lately! So what if Gepard sometimes looks for him in his favorite hiding places! So what if he's been dreaming about blue hair and green eyes! It's nothing!!

But they're….strange, these dreams. Gepard doesn't usually remember what he's dreamt. It's out of his mind seconds within waking up. But these stick with him, they won't leave him be, they feel different somehow.

He dreams of Sampo bringing food to the frontlines and eating breakfast in his tent with him. Sampo always sneaks him extras. He dreams of chasing Sampo through the alleyways, Sampo sometimes letting himself be caught, Gepard sometimes catching him, and trying to ignore how it feels more like a game now more than anything else. He even dreams that Sampo tags along with him on one of his few civilian days. Sampo runs errands with him, prattles about inane bullshit while Gepard picks out groceries for the week, drags Gepard into some bakery he's never been to but he thinks Serval mentioned once.

And sometimes, it feels so close to reality, that Gepard half expects to see Sampo, shamelessly swaggering into the frontlines with all the guards' breakfast like his wanted poster wasn't only recently taken off the walls of Belobog. He's disappointed when it's always someone else instead. He tells himself his disappointment is ridiculous and if Sampo wants to go prowl around the Snow Plains or wherever he is, then fine. It's not any of his business.

…But it IS his job to investigate any unusual criminal activity relating to the frontlines. And the frontlines are Sampo's usual haunting grounds, and this is unusual activity, and Sampo IS technically a criminal, so it is absolutely part of his duty to look into this - is what Gepard tells himself the entire tram ride down into the Underground.

Natasha tells him he's gone, and Gepard has to steel himself. He knew Sampo made enemies wherever he went, there are a lot of people who would love his head on a platter, but he didn't think-

Natasha corrects him that she means literally gone. As in off-planet. Sampo always leaves her a note before he goes anywhere, so she knows not to expect any supply runs from him. He should be back in exactly two weeks. Thank the Preservation.

Gepard goes back home. He waits.

The uneasiness doesn't leave him.

"Where did you go?" Sampo stops dead in the middle of some story about Seele, and how you'd think someone with as blunt a mouth as her wouldn't have so much trouble asking a woman out, even if that woman IS the Supreme Guardian, and stares at him. He nearly fumbles his cigarette.

"Ahaha, what do you mean, I'm right here?" Sampo smiles at him the same way he always does. Gepard has no idea why he asked. It just popped out. He can never tell when Sampo is lying, anyway.

"I don't know. I feel like I haven't seen you in a long time." Gepard idly mouths at his own cigarette. He almost never smokes, but he wants to ration their stocks of Blizzard Immunity, and it helps with the cold. It's seemed colder lately, for some reason.

Gepard flicks his lighter once, twice, sighs at the third time because a metal prosthetic and thick gloves make the damn things so difficult. Sampo reaches over and wordlessly kisses the end of his cigarette to Gepard's, lighting it. "Thank you."

Nothing happens for almost a full 30 seconds. Something churns behind Gepard's ribcage. Because Sampo never leaves a "thank you" hanging. This is the part where he gives his spiel about how helpful and kind he is and Gepard either brings up how long his rap sheet was before Bronya helped clear his name, or just stares deadpan because seeing Sampo squirm is weirdly satisfying.

"…I'll be back in one more week."

Gepard jolts awake in his cot, mouth dry and eyes bleary.

The hell.

The next dream he has, Sampo looks tired. Sometimes he seems normal. Sometimes he says strange things, like how he wishes he'd gone to some restaurant in Belobog. Ate his favorite food more recently. Brought something with him. Gepard asks why he can't do that now. Where would he bring something? Sampo only shrugs. His rebuttals have less energy.

Gepard doesn't know if he wants to dream more, or less.

He ticks down the days on his calendar. Natasha hasn't told him any different. She promised she would if she got any kind of message. Sampo returns tomorrow, from whatever vacation or seedy business dealings he's been off having. He is not excited about it. He is not looking forward to it. He's not!!

Gepard falls asleep late that night, unable to settle. He dreams again.

He's alone. There are tons of people everywhere, the frontlines are always crowded. But he's alone. They all pass right by him as though he were a ghost. Gepard starts to walk before he realizes his feet are even moving.

He checks the trashcans in the dead end alley. He checks the supply crates that someone always stacks too high because they don't feel like finding more space for them. He pauses to check the soldiers that march past him, watching their footprints in the snow.

He finally finds Sampo on the rooftop along the northernmost wall, the one that looks out over the plains, towards Everwinter Hill, towards where the Stellaron had once been kept. With a full moon and an entire land of white snow, Gepard can almost see clear out to the horizon.

"Found you." Sampo stiffens, and Gepard is almost prepared for him to sprint off the roof. He doesn't. But he doesn't relax either. Gepard sits down next to him and stares out at the wastelands.

"…I fucked up." It wasn't what Gepard had been expecting. Sampo never 'fucks up,' Sampo just gets into incidents that are entirely, supposedly, not his fault and that he just happens to always be within the vicinity of.

"What did you do now?" It must be really bad if Sampo is coming to the Silvermanes for protection.

Instead, Sampo ignores his question completely. "See out over there? Right on the other side of that mountain. There's a safe house that way. It's hidden under a lot of snow and dead trees, but it's there. And in that safe house is a box full of letters. I need you to deliver those letters for me."

Gepard's brow furrows. It's a weird favor to ask. Sampo would never tell anyone where his hidden safehouses were. It defeated the whole purpose of a hidden safe house.

Something is wrong, something is really really wrong.

Gepard turns back to look at him again and startles, all of his questions dying in his throat, because the entire left side of Sampo's head is suddenly matted down, dark and sticky, his skin is dyed red red red-

"In three more months, there's gonna be something big happening." Gepard grabs Sampo's hand and it feels slick and warm against his palm. "I won't be here. So I need you to do my end of things for me." Gepard tries to keep hold, but something is fading, something is slowing, the sun is coming up but the colors are all wrong, everything feels like encroaching fog, Sampo's hand slides right through his. "I was gonna come back with my mask to finish setting the stage, but…" Gepard makes a frantic grab for Sampo's wrist, the air twists, he comes back empty-handed. "They have you. And you're the Iron Wall of Belobog. So it'll be ok."

Gepard finally manages to find his grip, snatches the front of Sampo's dark wet jacket and yanks him forward to hold onto him, and this close up, he can see it better, his colors are bleaching out, leaking outside the lines as if Sampo will become part of the background, as if he's fading into the strange fog that's been closing in on them. His fingers are already starting to feel empty again.

"Wake up."

Gepard jolts awake, uncurls his hands from where they're fisted in the blanket, scrubs the dampness off his face. Breathes. Breathes. Breathes. Today is supposed to be the day.

He throws on his civilian clothes, and he goes down to the shipyard the IPC had built. He finds a spot where he can see every person that returns to Belobog, and he waits.

And he waits and he waits and he waits.

No one he recognizes appears.

#sampard #gepo #hsr gepard #hsr sampo #gepard landau #sampo koski #honkai star rail #hsr #blood #my fics #lucid dreamer #there was more to this but it didn't feel right included here so part 2 tomorrow maybe? #I just think Penacony being the land of dreams presents some FASCINATING possibilities like showing up in other people's dreams #the end of masquerade duet killed me just beat me dead #Sampo going through all this trouble just to protect Belobog... #poor Ray got such an earful that night haha #In the Penacony dreamscape someone can change their appearance however they want but I think in this case where one of the dreamers AREN'T- #-on Penacony it would take more concentration to keep that illusion up #and if someone were say. hurt and badly bleeding. it would start to fall apart eventually as they lost their concentration. #but oh my heart #Sampo being away and missing Belobog so badly he shows up in his friends' dreams just to do the same mundane shit they always do... #He probably showed up to everyone #he sat around and kept Natasha company in her clinic. he pestered Seele until he provoked her into asking Bronya on a date. #he played one last song with Pela and Serval. he told them he'd always kept his old bass guitar. #he took Hook out on one last joyride on his scooter and he even let her sit up front and steer like she'd always wanted. #and he stood around to shoot the shit with Gepard #he got to go do things like run domestic errands together with him. as if they could have been something more than what they were at the en #it was nice to get the chance to do all that #it was nice

[hairmetal666]

EDIT: ao3 should be back so you can read this now 😭😭

Robin rips the cream-colored polo out of Steve's hands. "Hey!" his surprise makes him shriek.

"Absolutely not." She jams the hanger back on the rack. "We're in a boutique in Paris. You are not buying a polo shirt here."

Steve pouts. "But it's my size."

"No. I'm putting my foot down." She stomps to get her point across. "C'mon, they have sunglasses in the back."

He leaves the shirt behind, allowing Robin to lead him towards the table of over-sized, dark-framed sunglasses.

She gets lost in trying them on, vamping in the little mirror, leaving him to card through a rack of silk scarves, until a case of vintage wrist watches by the register catches his eyes. He studies the them—Omega, Rolex, Cartier, Patek Philippe—bands of finely tooled leather and steel, inlaid with gold, silver, diamonds; things Steve could never afford for himself in a million years.

He's so lost in contemplating the fine jewelry and the state of his life, everything that will change once he gets home, that it takes him a second to register the increasing noise coming from outside. At first, it's excited voices exclaiming in rapid French, but it quickly becomes near-hysterical screaming.

Steve’s first impulse is to locate the danger, block Robin from whatever might be coming. Before he can move, though, the most beautiful man on the planet skids through the door, long, dark curls flowing behind him like they’re caught in their own breeze.

"Kiss me," the man says. His voice is deep and breathy, and he has the biggest, brownest eyes Steve has ever seen. He loses himself in them—they’re so dark he can see his reflection in their depths—and it takes too long for the words to register.

"What?" Steve mumbles.

This gorgeous guy—long limbed and slender, a cropped cut-off t-shirt showing acres of pale skin punctuated by dark swirls of tattoos—can’t have actually asked to kiss him. This is a lust-based hallucination, it has to be, because this guy has a belly-button ring and wears pants so tight they have to be cutting off his circulation.

"Kiss me. Please?" the man asks again. The shouting from outside is louder now, people are crying, and Steve is sure that, this time, there's a definite note of desperation to his words.

This is a dream, for sure. There’s no way this breathtaking man is actually asking Steve for a kiss. Even so, Steve hears himself agreeing in a voice that doesn't sound anything like his own. The guy—the impossible, beautiful guy—smiles all gentle and soft, cupping the back of Steve's head in his large hand.

He's kissed a lot of people in his life. Like a lot. But nothing like this, not ever. Their mouths slot together, and he's expecting it to be chaste, and it is, but. Something electrical fizzes in his blood, goes straight to his brain, because his mouth is pressing harder and the man moans, grips Steve closer, pulls him until they crash against a clothes rack.

It's wanting and hot, but their tongues barley brush together before the embrace is broken. Steve wants; it infuses his blood stream, becomes a delicious ache in his lower abdomen.

"Thanks, sweetheart," the man whispers, pupils blown and eyes glassy. He brushes his thumb along Steve's cheek, then spins on his heel, disappearing out the door.

Steve can’t move, doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe, mouth still hanging open in bemused shock. What the fuck.

"STEVE," Robin screams.

He jumps, the noise stark in the quiet store and the now ringing silence outside, whatever commotion from earlier gone as though it had never been.

"Robin, what?" He snaps.

"Do you know who that was??"

His face flames crimson. "Uh. Just some guy?"

"Steeeve, dingus, you're hopeless."

"Who was it, then?"

"Oh, only Eddie Munson? The Eddie Munson, Billboard number one for sixteen weeks? First album sold out at stores around the world? Didn't you wonder what all that screaming was about?"

"Oh my god,” Steve says. Hand going up to touch his kiss reddened lips. “Oh my god."

Read the rest on ao3!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #fluff #romantic fluff #one night stand #light angst #happy ending #ao3 link #ao3 fic #Robin Buckley #chrissy cunningham #first kiss #getting together #falling in love

[davidtennan-t]

I’ve spent an hour thinking about Donna comforting the Doctor after he obliviously choses ‘UP’ for their film night together

She’s seen it plenty of times as it was one of Rose’s favourite films growing up. She sheds a tear during the opening scene and notices the Doctor has gone completely quiet and still next to her, his hands gripping the soft blanket they’re under, so she leans forwards to see his lower lip wobbling and tears free falling down his cheeks

“Spaceman… you okay?”

“What?…yeah, I’m fine,” he basically whimpers, reaching up to try and wipe away the tears.

He is not fine. He spends the rest of the film cuddled up next to Donna while she strokes his hair and reminds him it’s just a film.

#I spend too much time thinking of these and then not writing out actual fics #I’m toxic #toxic about them #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #fourteen x donna #platonic soulmates having a film night together is just all my little heart wants #doctor who

[honeyhotteoks]

this night together - chapter fourteen (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter fourteen: what we mean to each other

chapter summary: making amends is hard, moving on is hard, but you have a home now in a way you've never had before. together, you move forward through it all.

warnings/notes: this chapter still deals with the aftermath of the attack, so all previous warnings apply, but i think you'll see we're coming out of it now and into much happier times. this is the start of an absolute fluff fest, and we'll be back to smut in the next chapter. specific warnings for: discussions of physical attack, anxiety, ptsd, consent conversations, past s*xual assault (mentioned in passing), issues with police and the legal system because lbr the cops aren't doing anything good for assault victims, and reader has a triggering moment with her neck but she works through it just fine

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 14.3k

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

It’s been days. Days of staying safe behind the walls of their apartment, days of dodging calls from your friends, days of cocooned self preservation. They haven’t left you for a single minute. You spent the weekend trading off who’s lap you were cuddled on and bickering over episodes of Single’s Inferno and you’ve never needed anything more. 

Slowly though, things start to shift. 

You’re showered, for one. And Yunho and Mingi both have settled back into their routines as best they can without leaving the apartment. Video games, mindless scrolling, paging through books and cooking balanced meals instead of another day of takeout. 

On Monday, Seonghwa confirms your worst suspicions by texting you a photo of the formal letter he received via Minseok’s attorney. You expect Yunho and Mingi’s are in the mail. Every time your phone chimes you expect it to be the police or some other official legal summons. Your mind has started to turn over every detail of the event with calculated detail, and your internet history stretches long with research. 

By Tuesday, you’ve caved and finally started answering Wooyoung’s texts with more than just single word responses or emoji confirmations that you’re still alive. The moment you do, he takes the opening and runs with it just like you knew he would. 

As you wait for the hot water for your tea to boil in the kettle, you re-read his most recent text again. 

Do you want to get out of the house for a bit? We can try that new spot by the bookstore?

Your stomach feels tight at the idea of going out and you do your best to tap out a reply that you think sounds casual and relaxed - Maybe next time, let’s just catch up and relax here? 

You watch the message send and deliver and in nearly real-time it flicks over to read. Dots appear as he types. 

Sure - his message reads - I’ll be there in an hour

An hour. You shouldn’t be so nervous to see your best friend, but the idea of opening up your little sanctuary to anyone right now feels a little fraught. The kettle whistles, and you hear feet shuffling against the vinyl flooring as Yunho crosses over into the kitchen and you lock your phone and Wooyoung’s messages away so you can focus. 

“Hey,” You murmur, giving him a smile as you pull the kettle off the heat. 

“Hey,” Yunho smiles back, leaning against the opposite counter, “everything okay?” 

“Mhm,” You tell him, just a little white lie. 

“Is Woo still coming by?” He questions.  

“Yeah,” You nod, setting the kettle on a pad so it doesn’t damage the countertop, “he said around an hour,” 

Yunho nods and then slides a bit closer to you, his hand stroking up and down your back once until he settles it on your hip. “Hey,” he says again, “can we talk?”

A nervous pang strikes in your gut, but he doesn’t look upset, so you take a guess at what he wants, “Is it okay that he’s coming?” 

“Wooyoung?” His brows draw together, “Of course, that’s not what I meant,” 

“Oh,” You turn towards him more fully, leaning against the counter with him, “okay, what’s up?” 

“I want to apologize,” He says, swallowing tightly. 

“Apologize,” You blink. 

He nods. 

“Okay,” You can see how whatever he’s about to say is bothering him, the stress under the surface, but you have no idea what he’s sorry for. 

“Listen,” He reaches and takes your hand, pulling you a little closer to him, “I know you know I’m sorry, but I haven’t said it clearly and you deserve that,” 

“Oh,” You relax further into his space until you can feel your bodies brushing together, the warmth radiating off his skin. 

“The way I reacted at the studio after your last heat was wrong,” He says in a rush of air as he laces your hands together, “and I haven’t gotten the chance to really say that,” 

“It’s okay,” You shake your head, soothing him a little, “you don’t have to,” 

“No,” He insists with a squeeze of your fingers, “I do. That day, I was worried and jealous and confused, but I let my anger get the better of me and that’s not something I normally do.”

You squeeze his fingers back, letting him know you’re listening. 

His eyes flick up from your joined hands to your eyes as he continues, “It’s not something I should have ever put on you or something you should ever see,” 

“People get angry,” You start to say. 

He’s firm when he shakes his head, “People get angry, but I don’t get angry at you. Ever.” 

“Yunho,” 

“I yelled at you,” He squeezes your hands, “I cursed at you,” 

“I did the same thing right back,” You remind him. 

“It’s not the same,” He presses, brushing right past your words, “and I’m apologizing because I’m telling you, y/n, it will never happen again.” 

“You think we’ll never have a fight?” You smile, “That’s optimistic,” 

“This isn’t a joke,” He sighs, “please,” 

“I’m sorry,” You tuck closer to him, unlacing your hands so you can snake your arms around his middle, “and I appreciate you apologizing for that fight, but I was upset you were being possessive and emotional after all the cold shoulder, you yelling wasn’t really high on my list of concerns,” 

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he nods, “I’ll get to that in a second, but will you hear me on this one thing?” 

“I’m listening,” 

“I hate to bring it up again,” He grimaces a little, “but I’ve just spent four days watching you jump at every noise around the apartment and wake up every night fucking terrified,” 

Your eyes shoot down. 

“And before I apologize for all the other ways I’ve been an ass to you,” His warm hands settle on your skin, thumb brushing along your jaw, “of which I know there are many,” 

You smile at that. 

“Yelling at you like that,” He sighs, “talking to you like that has been bothering me for months. I need to apologize for it because I need you to know that you’ll never, ever hear it again. Mingi said his peace, but it’s important to me that you know you’re safe with me in every way. If we’re going to do this, I need you to know you can tell me anything, including telling me off when I make mistakes, and I won’t get angry like that again.” 

“I already know that,” You look up, meeting his firm gaze and reaching for his cheek, “and I hope you understand that I know the difference between how you were angry then and what he did and how he spoke to me.” 

“I just had to say it,” He nods, “I would hate it if anything I ever did made you afraid to be honest with me, or made you feel like you’ve been feeling the past few days, I’d never,” 

“Baby,” You cup his cheeks in both hands, holding his eyes so he hears you fully, “I forgive you, and I am not afraid or uncomfortable with you or with Mingi. Not at all.” 

“Good,” He exhales hard, his eyes a little shiny and you press forward to wrap your arms around him and hug him close, his arms closing around your back. 

“If you’re being idiots,” You kiss his chest through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, “I’ll tell you you’re being idiots,” 

He laughs low, the vibration running through your chest, “Good.” 

“And if I’m being an idiot,” You add, “I’m not going to freak out if you get pissed at me or yell at me,” 

“I appreciate that,” He squeezes your shoulders, “but I don’t want to be the guy that yells, that’s not really an alpha stereotype I’ve ever wanted to fit.” 

“Okay,” You nod against him. 

He clears his throat a little roughly and you’re about to pull away but he holds you steady for a moment, “There’s one more thing,” 

Your hand strokes a line down his back, as you hum softly, “Hmm?” 

“I have more to say and to apologize for,” You can feel his heart beating a little faster under your cheek and you stroke his back again, “but I’m still figuring out how to do that, and it might not be fair of me to ask, but I wanted to see if you can be patient with me for that.” 

“Yunho,” You murmur, “what’s going on?” 

“I, uh,” His fingers flex tightly against your skin, “I started seeing someone,”

“Someone?”

“Professionally,” He adds, “Mingi used to and I know it helped. I didn’t think I needed to, but I think we can both agree I am not the best at managing my own emotions here,” 

“Oh,” 

“So,” He breathes, “after our fight, when I finally cooled off and realized what we did I asked him for a referral. I’ve been meeting with her once a week and it’s been helpful, but I’m not ready to apologize to you for the rest of it until I understand why I treated you like that,” 

Emotion fills your chest like a balloon and you nod into him, “Yunho,” 

He clears his throat again, “Sorry,” he says, “this is a little uncomfortable for me to talk about, but I’m working on it,” 

You wriggle out of his arms to find his face again and press up on your tiptoes to catch his mouth, kissing him with as much surety as you can before you lean back, “That means everything to me,” you tell him, “everything. You have all the time in the world from me, okay?” 

“Yeah,” He smiles, “good, okay,” 

“Is it helping?” 

“Definitely,” He nods, “it’s almost like the professionals know what they’re talking about,” 

You smile up at him. 

“I know I mentioned it before,” He adds quickly, “and I won’t press it, but if you do feel like it would be helpful for you too, you can come to me and I can ask my therapist for some numbers for you to call. I’ll even help set up an appointment if you need that,” 

Your chest goes tight at the thought, “I’ll let you know,” 

“Okay,” He smooths a hand up and down your back, “no pressure,” 

“For sure,” You manage. 

His lip quirks up and he presses a long kiss to your forehead as he gives you one more squeeze, “I said I won’t press, don’t panic,” 

“Sorry,” You breathe. 

He makes a noise dismissing that and then steps back, “So,” his eyes are bright again, everything equalizing back to normal with his smile, “you were making tea, can I help?” 

Your shoulders relax, tension bleeding out of you in an instant, “No,” you turn back to the warm kettle, “but can I make you a cup?” 

“Sure,” He pulls two teacups down from the cupboard, “so Woo will be here in an hour?” 

“Mhm,” You tap your phone to light up the screen to check for any other texts.

“Got it,” He nods, “would you feel alright with Mingi and I stepping out for a while?” 

“Out?” 

“I need to run by the studio and check in on things,” He explains, “and we need to get some food in here. I figured we could do that while Wooyoung keeps you company,” 

“Yeah,” Your heart picks up a little at the thought, but you press that feeling down and drop a teabag in each of your cups, “I’ll be just fine,” 

“Good,” He drops another kiss to your hair, keeping his fingers lingering on your skin while you pour hot water into your cups. 

“Do you,” You almost stop the question, but you find the words bubbling out of your mouth before you can second guess, “do you need to leave right away?” 

Yunho smiles wide, taking the kettle from your hands as he shakes his head, “No,”

Your heart eases a little. 

“Let’s have these together,” He nods to the tea and picks up both cups, “we’ll go when Woo gets here,” 

You follow him out into the living room, and he sets the cups down on the table before settling himself into the corner cushions and reaching up for you. It’s easy to take his hand and to melt into the familiar position on his lap, and you let him draw you in close and cuddle you, his arms wrapped securely around you as he nuzzles your cheek with his nose. 

You sigh, resting your hands on his chest and turning your face a little to catch his mouth in a kiss. 

He hums pleasantly against your mouth, “Is it strange to say that I’ll miss you while we’re out?” 

You smile, shaking your head, “No,” 

“Will you miss us?” He pecks your lips again. 

“More than I want to admit,” 

“You know,” Yunho smooths his hands over your body to rest in their familiar homes, one on your thigh and the other curled around your waist, “I hate what happened, and I wish I could take all the bad memories away, but I’m also so glad you’re here with us,” 

“I know what you mean,” You nod. 

“The months we spent apart were terrible,” He confesses, kissing you softly. 

“We’ll have to make up for lost time,” You agree quietly. 

“A proper date,” He smiles, “or a vacation somewhere warm?” 

“Mm,” You hum, thinking of being stretched out on a beach somewhere with your boys on either side of you, “perfect,”

“I’ll think on that,” He runs a hand down your hair and relaxes back into the couch, “you deserve something nice,” 

Twisting on his lap you reach for both of your teacups before settling back into the same, comfortable position, “I think it would just be nice to come over here without having something traumatic happen beforehand,” 

He frowns a little. 

“I’m kidding,” You nudge him softly, “kind of,” 

“I know,” He nods, “still,” 

“Yeah,” You quietly agree, taking the first sip of your tea. 

Yunho takes a sip too, and then hums a short, quick laugh, “This smells like you,” 

“Like me?” 

“The tea,” He takes another sip and nods, “you smell just the same, but sweeter,” 

“Do you like it?” You find yourself asking. 

Yunho’s head cocks slightly to the side, a line between his brows, and then he says, “Have I not made it clear how much I love your scent?” 

Your cheeks heat and he smiles at the way your skin reddens. 

“Sweetheart,” He shifts, pulling you in while still being careful of the tea, pressing warm, lingering kisses over your jaw to the hollow of your ear, “if I could drink you instead, I would.” 

You swallow, heat curling in your belly. 

“Soothing tea,” He murmurs, “sweet honey,” he adds with a kiss, “and the willow is sharp and fresh. You wake me up and calm me down all at the same time,” 

Your pulse quickens, and slowly your head drops to the side, extending the column of your neck to his lips. 

He takes it slow, remembering the way you jerked back in bed a few nights before, and he’s careful not to press too firmly or give you any inclination that he’s going to touch you with anything but his lips. 

“You smell like home,” He murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your head in his wide palm, kissing just a little lower still. 

Your muscles are stiffening up at the feeling of his mouth getting lower towards your exposed gland and your fingers tighten on his shirt where you hold yourself steady. 

“I’ve got you,” He whispers, “stay with me,” 

You nod, just a little, enough to tell him not to stop, “W-what else?” 

He smiles against your throat, “Well,” he kisses again, to punctuate his words, “when you’re happy, really happy or excited, there’s lemon too,” 

Your breath feels staggered, thready, and you focus on the feeling of him and the warmth of the teacups against your thigh. 

“When you want us,” He takes a deep inhale, sighing hot against your skin, “it’s all honey, thick and syrupy. After your heat I smelled that honey here for weeks,” 

You feel a whine building a little in your throat, and you bite down on your lip to keep it buried. Your body feels like it’s fighting itself with every touch of his mouth, hot arousal knots up at his scent mingling with yours and at his words, but the isolated touch alone has you fighting little flashes of a place that isn’t here and isn’t him. 

“I’ve got you,” He repeats, “I love you,” 

The reply settles on the tip of your tongue, but then he presses one last closed-lipped kiss directly over your gland and withdrawals entirely. You blink hard, a shudder running up your spine. 

“Alright?” He checks, smoothing his hand down your hair again. 

You nod, letting your fingers unknot from his shirt while you collect yourself. 

“Hopefully that answers your question,” He clears his throat softly. 

You start to nod, but the sound of the bathroom door opening cuts through the moment and you start, tea spilling over the lip of your cup onto your fingers. 

“It’s Mingi, baby,” He assures you. 

“I know,” You have to tear your eyes off the hallway though. 

His mouth is set in a concerned little line, and you know he’s probably thinking about your conversation in the kitchen again, but he lets it lie and doesn’t push it, just like he promised. 

Mingi appears a moment later, a towel slung around his hips and his shoulders and hair wet from the shower. He smiles widely when he sees you both, “What’s going on in here?” 

Yunho raises up his cup, “Tea,” he smiles, “nothing much,” 

“Mm,” Mingi nods and stretches, “nice,” 

“Will you be ready soon?” Yunho asks, “Wooyoung will be here in a bit,” 

“Yeah, sure,” He confirms and then glances at you, “you’re good with us going out?” 

“I’m good,” You confirm. 

“I’ll stay if it would make you feel better,” Mingi adds, “I can hide in the bedroom and listen to music or something if you want privacy,” 

You love them both so much in this moment you feel like your chest might crack right open on its own, and you shake your head at him with a smile, “No, I have to get comfortable at some point, it might as well be while Woo is here with me,” 

He nods, “Well, we won’t be too far, just call us and we’ll turn around.” 

“Thank you,” You reach up to take his hand and he twines his fingers with yours immediately. 

Yunho shifts, pressing his lips against your shoulder, “Are you and Woo going out anywhere?” 

He’s clearly trying to be subtle, but you hear the anxious note in his voice and it occurs to you that they might be just as nervous leaving you as you are staying here without them. 

You shake your head, “No, just staying here,” 

“That’s good,” Mingi adds a little too quickly, “if you do go out, would you let us know?” 

“I will,” You promise them, “but you don’t have to worry,” 

“It’s in our nature to worry over you,” Yunho sighs, “but I think we’re both trying not to be overbearing about this whole thing,” 

“Trying,” Mingi shrugs, “but also the idea of not knowing where you are feels like it might give me hives,” 

You laugh at the image, easing back into Yunho’s chest. 

“To be clear,” Yunho shoots Mingi a look, “that’s in a nice ‘we care about you’ way, not in a ‘controlling boyfriend’ kind of way,” 

“Relax,” You tell them both, “I get why you want to know, it’s the same reason I want to know where you are.” 

“Studio first,” Mingi offers without you asking and your chest warms, “then groceries, and then I want to swing by that cafe that has that caramel cheesecake you like, then home,” 

“Don’t say we don’t have to,” Yunho adds, “we want to,” 

You smile as he takes the words right out of your mouth. 

“Plus, I want some,” Mingi says with ease. 

You’re not used to this type of relationship yet, having alphas of your own who actually want to be with you and take care of you, who worry for you and feel for you in all the deep nervous ways you feel for them. You hush the nagging voice in your mind that tries to tell you not to show them how much you need them, the voice that doesn’t want you to jump too fast, you already know what you get by listening to that voice. 

Instead you ask them what you want to ask, “How long do you think you’ll be gone?” 

“Two hours,” Yunho offers, “maybe three at the most,” 

“Okay,” You exhale, weight dropping away from your shoulders, “that’s perfect,” 

“We’ll let you know,” Mingi adds, “and if you need anything special while we’re out, we can stop,”

You shake your head, “I’m fine,” You assure them, “a little anxious, but you know, it’s good for me.” 

Mingi smiles warmly, brushing his hand over your cheek and tilting your face up with his thumb and forefinger on your chin, “We’re a phone call away,” 

“I know,” You nod. 

Yunho sighs as Mingi’s hand drops away, and he kisses your shoulder again, “It’s funny,” he says, “I really don’t want to leave you,” 

“We did just spend three months not seeing each other and in a state of constant relationship limbo,” You point out and give him a squeeze, “we really went from nothing to a whole lot of something fast,” 

“Not too fast?” Mingi checks, trying to sound casual. 

“No,” You say, “and even if it is, I don’t care,” 

“We’ve always felt right together,” Yunho adds, “we’re just letting ourselves enjoy it now,” 

He’s never said something so true. 

Mingi gets dressed and collapses onto the couch next to both, pushing closer into your space with Yunho until you’re both practically on his lap, but it works. You stay knit close together until there’s a knock on the door and then it’s fast kisses goodbye and big hugs from your best friend, and before you can really process it you’re without them for the first time in days. 

Your stomach is fluttering, a nervous quiver deep in your gut that you really don’t want Wooyoung to over-analyze. A moment later you find yourself back on the couch in the warm spot Yunho left, wrapping yourself in the blanket you had all shared the night before. You can smell them on it, earthy, warm, and sweet. 

Wooyoung watches as you start to relax, and he takes a seat right next to you to keep close, a closed smile on his lips. 

You can’t believe you miss them already. 

They must miss you too though, because Mingi only makes it a scant ten minutes before he texts you, his message lighting up your phone - Forgot to say I love you - I love you.

“What?” Wooyoung nudges you under the blanket. 

You pass your phone to him and he reads the message, his eyebrows shooting up high, “I leave you alone for a few days and you’re all saying ‘I love you’s?” 

You grab the phone back and tuck it away, “That’s the thing about life changing trauma,” you laugh, “it really accelerates the big feelings,” 

Wooyoung nods, keeping things light, but finds your hand on the back of the couch so he can hold it. 

“Also we’re not all saying it,” You confess, “they’re saying it,” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean they’ve told me,” You explain, “the day after the studio we had this big talk,” 

“Don’t tell me they put all that shit on you like that,” He wraps his hand around yours, “y/n,” 

“Not like that,” You shake your head, “it’s actually hysterical, they thought that Seonghwa and I have been dating,” 

His eyes go wide, “What?” 

“It’s truly the longest story of miscommunication,” You tell him, “at this point I think someone should write a book about me and make it a romantic comedy,” 

“Erotica,” Wooyoung smirks. 

“Shut up,” You swat at him. 

“There have been too many good orgasms for a romcom,” He shrugs. 

You roll your eyes, “Anyways, it turns out the whole not talking period while you were all away was just me pining but feeling like I fucked it up, and them pining but thinking I had moved on with Hwa,” 

“Damn,” 

“But when they realized that they were wrong about that,” You continue, “we just got it all out there,” 

“And they love you,” He smiles a little, “and they actually said it,” 

“Yeah,” You soften into the cushions. 

“I hate to ask the obvious,” He squeezes your hand, “but if you’re so happy about that, why haven’t you told them? You do love them?” 

“So much,” The words fly out like you’re defending something, and you run a hand through your hair as you get your real thoughts steady, “I do, Woo, so much. We’re scent matches,” 

“I know,” He nods warmly. 

“You do?” 

“Anyone with eyes can see that,” Wooyoung smiles, “well, apart from you three.” 

“Thanks,” 

He nudges your thigh with his foot under the blanket, “Honestly, though, after what happened I could see it on them. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other, and they kept flanking you, watching you like you might disappear,” 

A memory of the studio plays like a clip in your mind, the way they held you between them, the three of you against everything. You nod, “They’ve been doing that for days,” 

“Which…” Wooyoung trails off, trying to guess where your head is, “you’re happy about?” 

“I am,” You nod emphatically, “and I love them, I just… I can’t get the fucking words out of my mouth,” 

He sobers a little, sliding closer to you on the couch so he can draw your legs over his lap and give you exactly the kind of comfort you need, “I’m listening, babe, talk to me,” 

“I don’t know why,” You hold his hand tighter, “but every time they say it, and I think I’m going to say it back, I’m right back in that room with Minseok’s teeth on my neck and I can’t,” your chest feels tight, “I can’t get it out,” 

His eyes soften, empathetic in the way that only he can be, “Does being in love with them scare you?” 

“No!” You pull your hand back from his. 

“Babe,” He takes your hand back and holds tight, “I’m not saying they scare you, I’m saying does being in love, being vulnerable like that scare you?” 

Your shoulders drop, “A little, but,”

“But?” 

“I thought about it for three months,” You argue, “I had it rehearsed, I knew exactly what I wanted to say and the big reveal was supposed to be the ‘I love you’ part not the ‘I’m sorry’ part,” 

“Your plans on that kind of fell apart when that asshole tried to claim you,” Wooyoung pushes back a little. 

“Yeah, no shit,” A flurry of anger bubbles in your belly. 

He nods, “And now you’re off kilter,” 

“You could say that,” 

“You rarely do anything without thinking it through,” He offers, this thumb drawing a comforting line over your palm, “and your plan got fucked, and you’re emotionally vulnerable, and traumatized, and stressed. You feel like you’re out here without a life vest,” 

His words stun you silent. 

“And this thing you worked up in your mind for three months is now totally derailed,” He continues, “am I on the money?” 

You nod. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says. 

You nod again. 

Wooyoung asks this question softly, his voice quiet and gentle, “Do you want to bond with them?” 

Your heart thumps in your chest. 

“It’s just you and me,” Wooyoung soothes you, “and whether or not you bond with them is your choice, okay? But, babe, is that something you think you’ll want?” 

Suddenly you remember the feeling of your heat with them. The way you begged for them, the way it felt so right and so sure that you belonged to each other. You remember how your mind spun imaginary futures that all ended the same way. 

Silently, you nod. 

“Loving them isn’t bonding,” He murmurs, “you can just love them for now at your own pace.” 

Tears prick at the back of your eyes, “What if I can never do it? They can barely touch my neck without me falling apart, what if I can never take a real claim?” 

“Oh, babe,” He pulls you towards him, crushing you to his chest, “I wish you called me earlier, you shouldn’t be thinking like this,” 

“It was so terrible,” You confess into his shoulder, “I can’t even tell you, I don’t even know how to explain,” 

“You don’t have to,” He hushes you, a hand stroking up and down your back, “and I don’t know if this is going to help or hurt, but I know right now you feel like there’s no way you’d ever be able to take a claim without it being scary and awful, but someday you might be able to without even thinking of him.”

A few hot tears escape your eyes. 

“And I know I give Yunho and Mingi shit,” He adds, “but you know that both of them would rather die than do something to hurt you or scare you,” 

“And if I can never bond?” You manage. 

“Then I’d say thank god your scent matches are two men who would never, ever push you into a bond you weren’t ready for,” He says, squeezing you tight, “and I think if you asked them, they’d tell you that they’d rather be with you unbonded and happy than bonded and in pain.” 

“You’re right,” You wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, “I know you’re right,” 

“They’re not going to try to push you into a bond just because you love each other,” He lets you lean back but he slides his hand back into yours, “especially not now,” 

“I know that,” You sigh, “rationally, I was just,” 

“I’m telling you, I get it,” He eases you, “sometimes you go through something and you think a part of you is wrecked forever, that you’ll never be able to do something again or feel normal again, but you will. I promise,” 

You know the truth of him so suddenly you can’t stop the words, “Woo,” you feel your heart beating faster, “did something happen?” 

“A long, long time ago,” He says softly, “and today’s not the day for that story, but I’m telling you it does get better and it does soften in your memory and someday your alphas are going to touch your neck and you won’t even think about it, it just won’t be there anymore.” 

Grief and relief mingle in your gut at his words, and you want to ask him more, to be there for him like he’s been there for you but you can see it in his face, today isn’t the day for that story. 

You squeeze his hand, “I love you, Woo,” 

“I love you too,” He assures you. 

Silence sits between you for a moment while you turn over his words, and though you can’t imagine the day he’s describing, you still believe him. You have to. You don’t know what happened to him or when, but you’ve never met someone as bright and open and happy as him, and you have to hold onto that truth. 

You look down at your combined hands, “Yunho offered to make an appointment with a therapist for me,” 

“Say yes,” Wooyoung replies without a thought, “I waited years and I wish I hadn’t,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Does he have a contact?” Wooyoung asks, drawing your eyes back up, “I have some options for you if not,” 

“He said he can ask his therapist for a referral,” 

“His therapist?” Wooyoung grins, “I knew I liked him,” 

“You’ve been friends for years,” You nudge him. 

“Liked him for you,” He corrects, “that’s different,” 

“Yeah, yeah,” 

“My best friend deserves an alpha who is fully therapized and capable of complex emotions,” Wooyoung says with confidence, “nothing less.” 

“Don’t mention that I told you,” You add quickly, “he told me that in confidence, it just slipped out,” 

“I wouldn’t,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “that’s private. But between you and me, I’m glad to hear it.” 

“Me too,” You sigh. 

“And as far as you going?” Wooyoung circles back to the real question at hand, “Say yes, the sooner the better. If Yunho’s offering to help set it up, let him. Making that call is hard, and if he can make it easier, just say yes.” 

“Okay,” You sigh, your shoulders dropping. 

“And tell them how you’re feeling about bonding,” He adds, “trust me.” 

“Maybe,” You say, “I know you’re right. We’re just moving so fast,” 

“So slow down,” He offers. 

“I don’t know if I want to,” You admit, warmth and nervous energy filling your chest, “it feels right like this, I just don’t know if I can handle a claim,” 

“Tell them,” He reiterates, “don’t let them stumble into that one, they might hurt you without even knowing it if they bring it up sooner than you’re ready for.” 

“Right,” You nod, “you’re right,” 

He huffs a laugh, “Usually am,”

You flick his arm, rolling your eyes, so grateful at him for helping you work through something this hard while still keeping you smiling. You should have called him earlier, he’s right about that too. 

You let silence stretch around you both for a moment, and then something occurs to you. 

“Do you know anything about the charges Minseok is filing?” You run a hand through your hair, “Not to bring up yet another pleasant subject,” 

Wooyoung snorts a little air through his nose and shrugs, “I probably know what you know, have you talked to Hwa?” 

You shake your head. 

“At all?” He seems surprised. 

“I have,” You correct, “but it was quick and we were all on the call. I haven’t been to my place to see if there’s any mail, but I’d guess Yunho and Mingi will get a summons soon.” 

Wooyoung nods, “That’s what the police said,” 

Your eyebrows raise, “You talked to the police?” 

“Seonghwa did,” He clarifies, “and he gave San and I the run down.” 

“Why is no one telling me what’s going on?” You exhale heavily. 

“Because last we heard you were having nightmares,” Wooyoung rests a hand on your folded legs, “and we don’t have a lot of information to give, and I don’t think any of us want to cause you more stress than you need.” 

“Do Yunho and Mingi know?” You press. 

“Not exactly,” Wooyoung says, “though, I guess Seonghwa might be telling them now if they stopped by the studio,” 

You wait for him to continue, but you’re a little relieved at least that your boys aren’t keeping anything from you directly. 

“Seonghwa spoke to the police who explained the charges. Minseok is alleging that the guys misunderstood what they saw and ignored his attempts to explain, and that they used unnecessary force intervening on your behalf.” He says it plainly. 

“Misunderstood?” You repeat the word. 

“I know,” Wooyoung nods, “we all know, but that’s what he’s saying. The police advised Seonghwa to get an attorney and let him know that further charges were being filed. I think we can safely assume that’s Yunho and Mingi, maybe San if he’s really going after it.” 

“Maybe me too,” You add. 

“Maybe,” He nods, “but that would be tough to prove I think,” 

“Hmm,” Your eyes feel a little unfocused. 

“Hey,” Wooyoung gets your attention with a squeeze, “we don’t know anything yet, and we thought this might happen. It doesn’t change the truth and it doesn’t mean any of them regret what they did to make sure you were safe, okay?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Tell me you understand,” He presses, “because I’m not letting you put this one on yourself,” 

“I do, I understand,” You nod, “it just sucks,”

“That’s fair,” He gives you a soft smile, “but it’s going to take a lot more than this to fuck us over,” 

“Yeah,” You murmur, “you’re probably right.” 

Wooyoung says something else but you hardly hear it, in the back of your mind all you can think of is that first night at the hospital. The detectives who interviewed you were kind, but bordered on dismissive, and you know Minseok and his family have deeper pockets than you do. You have to figure this out, you have to.

  “Babe?” Wooyoung nudges you. 

“Yeah,” You snap up, coming back to the present moment and letting those anxieties fade into the background until you can really think them through, “sorry,” 

“It’s okay,” He soothes you. 

Your phone buzzes on your lap again and you pull it up to see the message. It’s Mingi again - Budae Jjigae for dinner, ask Wooyoung if he wants to stay? We’ll have plenty

It’s like he felt your anxiety from miles away and you can feel the tense knot of your shoulders unlocking. You send back a quick heart emoji and then look back up to your friend, “You want to stay for dinner?” 

He smiles, “Who’s cooking?” 

“Mingi,” You tell him, “he’s been on a comfort food kick for me,” 

Wooyoung smiles, “I’ll stay,” 

“Great,” You tap out a reply to Mingi letting him know and take a big sigh. 

“They make you happy,” Wooyoung says, “it’s nice to see,” 

“It’s nice to feel,” You tell him, “after all this time, and after everything,” 

“You deserve it,” He murmurs. 

You smile, a little tease at the corner of your mouth when you nudge him, “So do you, and speaking of,” 

His face lights up fast, “I wasn’t trying to bring my too-good mood over here if things weren’t going well,” he sighs, “but now that I know you’re all in love,” 

“So you and Yeosang?” You turn the conversation to something so much happier, and feel lighter the second you do. 

“It’s so good,” He gushes, head falling back against the cushions, “he’s kind of quiet, kind of hard to get to know at first, but y/n, he’s so funny,” 

“Yeah?” You smile. 

“And smart,” He adds, “and considerate, he’s always getting me coffees or refilling my water, just like, those little things,” 

“Wow, look at you,” You squeeze his hand, “serial dater of alphas, turned into a blushy mess over a funny, smart, considerate beta,” 

“He’s packing like an alpha, I’ll say that,” Wooyoung grins wolfishly. 

You smack his chest, “Woo! Literally that is too much information,” 

“Please,” He rolls his eyes, “I share a locker room with your boyfriends, I know what you’re working with,” 

You feel your face flush red. 

“Cute,” He teases. 

“So,” You divert, “does Yeosang feel as strongly?” 

His smile drops a little, “I mean,” he says, “I think so? But he’s not really an oversharer,” 

“Have you told anyone else?” You try to be casual about that question, but if you’re being honest you’re dying to know where things will land with San and Seonghwa. 

Wooyoung shakes his head though, “Not yet, but I think when everything calms down I might have him pick me up at the studio or something? I want you to meet him and I want everyone to know, I just,” 

“I get it,” You assure him, “you go at your own pace.” 

“Yeah,” He sighs. 

“Just don’t follow my lead,” You smile, “if you like him, don’t run away in a panic,” 

“Noted,” He laughs. 

He looks so happy, bright from the inside in a way that matches his sunny scent, and you think he’s not far from sharing ‘I love you’s of his own at this rate. 

You squeeze his hand again and catch his attention back, “You really look so happy,” you tell him. 

“I am,” He sighs, “he’s exactly what I needed,” 

You smile, and then push his legs to the side, “Move over, I know you have pictures, you’re holding out,” 

He laughs sharply, head falling back but letting you manhandle him a little so you can snuggle into his side. Wooyoung tugs the blanket around you both and pulls out his phone, “Fine,” 

“Like it’s a burden to show your best friend pictures of your hot new boyfriend,” You smack his chest, “come on,” 

Wooyoung drops his arm around your shoulders until you’re slotted together on the corner of the couch, but he still hasn’t lit up his phone. You’re about to nudge him again, but then you feel him press a soft kiss to your hair. 

“You know,” He says softly, “when Sannie called me and told me what happened, I just felt so sick,” 

You find his other hand under the covers and lace your fingers together, “I’m okay,” 

He nods, sighing into your skin, “I just want you to know,” he says, his voice a little tight, “you mean so much to me, and I’ll be grateful to them forever for stopping him,” 

You blink back a few tears and nod, “I am okay, though,” 

He nods again and clears his throat, “I know,” 

“I think you’re avoiding my questions about Yeosang,” You squeeze his hand tightly, an acknowledgement of his emotions and his words, while steering the conversation back to happier topics. 

“You’re right,” He laughs, “you caught me.” 

“Come on,” You nudge him again, pushing down the little swell of emotion that his words brought up. 

“He’s not really a selfie guy,” Wooyoung slides his finger across his phone screen until he finds Instagram and then navigates to his new man’s page, “but, I don’t know, I think you’ll like his vibe.” 

Your face cracks into a wide smile when you see the profile, clearly that of an artist, a photographer. The first post on his page is of Wooyoung, though you’d have to know Wooyoung well to know it. He’s walking away from camera through a dark Itaewon street, the lines of his body accented by the neon club signs. 

“Oh, Woo,” You relax against him and open that photo to see it larger, “he really likes you,” 

He snatches the phone away, a little pink in his cheeks as he rushes to downplay the truth of what you can see plain as day, and you fight to get back the phone, your cheeks starting to hurt from how much you’ve been laughing. 

You and Wooyoung stay like this for ages, warmly locked together as you swap stories and funny things on both your phones. By the time your phone chimes with another text from Mingi, at least two hours have gone by.

Almost home! His message reads. 

Your chest feels warm, your heart whole at the words. 

“They’ll be back in a minute,” You tell Wooyoung as you set your phone aside. 

“Perfect,” He grins, “so exactly how much teasing can I get away with before you get mad?” 

You fall apart again into laughter, happy tears stinging at your eyes. You don’t hear the front door open at first, but when you finally look up you see them standing frozen in the doorway with such softness in their expressions. You feel the words bubble up at the sight of them, but again they stay resting at the tip of your tongue.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes and pushes off the couch, “Alright, alright stop making heart eyes at each other and tell me what’s in the box,” 

Your eyes flick down to the large white box in Mingi’s hand, the perfect cheesecake nestled inside waiting just for you. Wooyoung takes a few grocery bags out of their hands and heads off to the kitchen, and just like that your night falls together naturally. 

You don’t think about Minseok again until later that night. For a beautiful, blissful four hours you just laughed and ate and relaxed with your best friend and your boyfriends, and he doesn’t enter your brain at all. 

It isn’t until you’re lying in bed alone with your thoughts, Yunho and Mingi deep asleep on either side of you, that you realize what you have to do. 

In the morning you wake from a dreamless sleep, and you start to put your plan in motion. You slip out of bed and leave them to their rest, light only just stretching its way through the Seoul skies outside. Seeing Wooyoung made you feel lighter in a way that you can’t explain, and within minutes you’re scrawling out a note, stealing Mingi’s key, and lacing up your sneakers. 

Out for a walk, be back in a little while, don’t worry too much x

You leave it on their kitchen counter and you hope it’s enough to keep them from looking for you. You need a little space from your own scared reflection in the mirror, and a new perspective on the plan you’ve been turning over since your head hit the pillows last night. 

The note isn’t a lie, strictly speaking, you are out for a walk, but you also know if you told them exactly where you were on a walk to, they'd worry. They wouldn’t just worry, they would have insisted on coming with you, but this is something you have to do alone. 

You take the long way to the hospital down the river path, letting the cool day calm your mind and keep you centered. You go over in your mind all the things you want to say to him when you see him, assuming you actually make it into his room. You wonder how hard it will be to convince him. You wonder if you’ll even be able to get a single word out of your mouth. 

You have to try. 

Yunho’s words from yesterday morning in the kitchen sink into you. The tenderness in his eyes when he mentioned how jumpy you’ve been around the apartment. You hadn’t even realized it, but now you feel it in your shoulders and your stomach with the sound of every opening door, every squeak of a shoe on vinyl flooring. Everytime you look up into a mirror you expect to see a face over your shoulder, to feel hands on your hips.  

Minseok had taken so many little things from you in the span of three minutes. 

You need to take something back. 

Every step leading into the hospital is heart pounding and nerve wracking, stress inducing on a level you’ve never experienced, but standing in front of reception you suddenly feel an overwhelming calm. Your mind is clear, operating on something wholly unconscious and you don’t know where you’ve mustered this feeling from, but you let it take you. 

You give over Minseok’s full name and provide the kindest smile you can to the woman behind the desk,“I’m his sister,” you tell her. The lie rolls right off your tongue, so clean and easy you surprise yourself. 

“Oh,” The nurse nods, “well visiting hours don’t start until eleven,” 

“I have work,” You counter, softening your face, “I’m sorry, but do you think you could make an exception? I’ll be very quick, I just want to see him for a few minutes before I have to run,” 

She considers it, and you know you have her the minute she checks the nurse’s station to see who else is there with her before she breaks a rule, “Alright, but just be quick, five minutes,” 

“Thank you so much,” You smile, “really, you’re so kind,” 

She waves you off, glancing around her again, “He’s in 305, the third door down on your left when I open the doors,” 

“Thank you,” 

She presses a button on the wall and the lock springs free, opening the heavy security door to your side. With one last smile and deeply grateful bow, you slip through the door and make it through into the hospital hallway where you are most definitely not supposed to be. 

Third door on the left. 

You have to be quick, not so you don’t get caught, but so you don’t chicken out. If you stand in this hallway and let yourself really think about what you’re doing, you’ll turn right around and go home. Steeling yourself, you rush forwards and find the door to 305 and with a deep breath you slip inside. 

Private rooms are expensive, that thought occurs to you as you shut the door tightly behind you. That fact, plus the reality that he’s already talking about pressing his own charges, tells you Seonghwa was right, he has some kind of family money. You hope that when you turn around and actually face the room you won’t have to contend with his mother or father or god forbid some girlfriend you know nothing about. You need him to be alone. 

Blissfully, the room is quiet, the only sounds are medical and simple. With your palms flat against the door you take a deep breath, and if Minseok is awake he says nothing, makes no sound, while you gather the nerve to do this. 

Finally, you turn. 

He is awake, studying you with a careful expression, but then your eyes flick over him. He’s more than injured, he’s completely incapacitated. You catalog it all quickly - his leg suspended in an elevating sling, ankle wrapped up tight, wrist sprained and in a brace, his face is bruised and battered and you realize in seconds that his broken jaw is wired shut. He has an oxygen cannula tucked into his bandaged nose, and you remember that his ribs are broken too. 

You wonder which of your boys delivered each piece of punishment. 

Your mouth feels dry, and your pulse is quickening, the sight of him so close is enough to induce panic but he can’t really do anything to you in this state so you have to just be brave. You push yourself off the wall and walk to the end of his hospital bed, “Hey,” 

He gestures to his jaw and shrugs to communicate that he can’t really talk. 

“I know,” You nod, “I heard.” 

It’s strange to be here with him like this when last week you were working side by side. It’s bizarre to suddenly feel this bubble of uncomfortable space and distance, and to feel the fear underneath it all. 

He gestures towards you with his bandaged hand and you know he’s asking why you’re here. 

“I heard about the counter charges,” You came here with a purpose and you have to stick to it, “and I came here to ask you to drop them.” 

He shakes his head and looks down at himself and then back up to you. 

“After what you did?” Anger curls up in your belly, “I think they took it pretty easy on you.” 

He huffs, a puff of air from his closed lips. 

“Listen,” You try, “you and I both know what you tried to do, and whatever your excuse is, it doesn’t matter. If they hadn’t gotten you off me… I guess what I’m saying is do the right thing now. You said you were sorry, just drop these charges and we can all move on.” 

His eyes harden and he shakes his head. 

You thought he was apologetic after, coming to his senses and realizing in the haze of his rut he almost broke someone’s mind, but now you’re starting to think he was just pleading for his own beating to stop. 

“You won’t consider it?” You ask, stomach clenching tightly. 

He shakes his head again and points to his injuries. Jaw, ribs, leg. 

You want to hit him yourself, so suddenly that your fingers curl tight into fists, “You tried to fucking claim me because I wouldn’t go out on a date with you, and you think you’re the victim here?” 

He seems irritated by your question, and he reaches for something on the tray table to his side. He pulls up a small whiteboard and marker, clearly given to him by hospital staff to communicate, and he wipes away the words that were there to write out his message to you. 

I’m the one in a hospital bed.

“You bastard,” The words just slip out, “why do you think? They put you here for a fucking reason, Minseok,” 

He wipes the message away and writes something else. 

Keep your alphas on a leash.

You’ve never understood the phrase ‘seeing red’ before, but now it’s meaning is crystal clear, “You should keep yourself on a leash.” 

He huffs. 

“Using tone to submit an omega is illegal, Minseok,” You round the corner of the bed, “the prison time for something like that is long. It’s not even just assault, I think that’s something like three or four years? But using tone… claiming against an omega’s will? That’s irreparable damage. I wonder how many charges they’d stack on top in court? Psychological trauma? Sexual assault?” 

His eyes darken and he wipes the board again, his marker squeaking roughly against it as he angrily writes out the next message. 

I never touched you like that.

“You would have,” You shake your head, “as soon as I was your nice obedient omega and couldn’t say no.” 

He stares daggers, but says nothing. 

“They might be able to prove intent,” You tell him, “throw a few more years on top for good measure. How old do you think you’ll be when they let you out? Do you think a dance studio would hire a forty year old man?” 

His face pales, he looks sick suddenly. 

“You’ll drop the charges,” You tell him, “and when you do, I’ll drop mine.” 

His eyes widen. 

“You’ll never set foot in the studio again, and you’ll go find another job somewhere else.” 

His eyes skim over you, trying to gauge your honesty. 

“Do you understand me?” You don’t know what’s possessing you, what’s holding you up so you can get these words out, but you’ve never felt more sure. 

He says nothing. 

You lean in closer, close enough that if he was uninjured he could easily have you back in control, but with his jaw wired shut and his lack of mobility, he can’t do a thing. Nerves flutter up your body as you lean in, and you’re sure he can smell Yunho and Mingi on you, but the guarantee that he can’t touch you is filling you with a sick sense of power, of sure joy. 

“You tried and you failed,” You tell him, and he huffs, “and that’s on you.”

His cheek twitches and you’re sure he’d be clenching his jaw if he could do it without exceptional pain. 

“You’ll do this for me, you owe me,” You hold his gaze despite the flutter of fear it brings you, “and if you don’t, I don’t care what it takes. I’ll see you in court and if that doesn’t work, I’ll make sure that you never, ever get hired again. Every studio in Korea will know what you did, and every omega in Seoul will know what you really are, and if you ever get close to me again after today I’ll break your jaw myself.” 

His eyes flick down. 

“Do you understand me?” You repeat, enunciating clearly. 

He nods once. 

“Good,” You push back from him and get some distance, “get the charges against all of them dropped by tomorrow and I’ll call and withdraw mine. Don’t ever come back to the studio, if you left stuff there consider it gone.” 

He holds your gaze, and then he writes out a question - How do I know you’ll keep your word? 

“You don’t,” You shrug, “but I promise you I wouldn’t be here in this room with you at all if I wasn’t willing to drop them.” 

He turns your words over. 

“Minseok,” You sigh, “they mean more to me than watching you go to jail, please, just do the right thing.” 

He wipes his hand again across the whiteboard and then he shifts, looking back up to you to nod in agreement. 

“You’ll do it?” 

He nods again and then picks the marker back up to write something. 

“Don’t,” You stop him, “there’s nothing you can say I want to hear. Just do this and we’ll be done.” 

He looks away and without meeting your eyes again, he nods.

“Don’t make me come back,” You press him, but he doesn’t respond and that will have to be enough. You’ve done what you came to do. 

You’re out of his room in a flash, back through the security doors and quick past the front desk. You don’t spare a single glance at the nurse who broke the rules for you, you just need to get out of here before you let the reality of what you’ve done hit you sideways. You don’t let a single thing consume you until you’re out of the hospital and on the street again, and you sink down onto the first available bench. 

Your heart is pounding, hands trembling. You need to get this under control before you go home because the last thing you want is to cause Yunho and Mingi anymore stress or heartache. You give yourself some time to come back into your body, to forget the hard set of Minseok’s eyes and the way his fingers twitched when you got too close, the way you fought the curling panic in your gut to get the words out. 

When you do feel whole again, you order a taxi back. You’ve been gone a while, probably a little longer than they expected, and you hope they’re not worried.

Using Mingi’s borrowed key, you slip into the apartment and let their scents wash over you, soothing you instantly. You shut the door quietly behind you and toe off your shoes before calling out, “Is anyone home?” 

You hear movement immediately, Mingi from the kitchen and Yunho from his bedroom and it fills you with warmth. 

“Hey,” Mingi gets to the living room first, “how was your walk?” 

“Really good,” You tell him, and that’s the truth. The walk itself was nice until you cut it short with your little errand. 

“You look good,” He smiles, and Yunho appears from his side of the apartment as Mingi continues, “fresher,” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “it’s a beautiful morning out,” 

“Hey,” Yunho says, smiling at the sight of you. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you,” You say, “I just wanted to clear my head a bit, so I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your key,” 

Mingi shakes his head as you hang his keyring up by the door. 

“We’ll have to get one made for you,” Yunho says, “if you want,” 

You let the implication of that lie and you nod, but excitement sparks in your belly.

“Is there any coffee?” You ask, moving into the apartment and heading towards the kitchen. You need to tell them where you’ve been, but you just need a breath before you can. 

“Mhm,” Mingi says, “I just made a cup,” 

“Oh,” You shake your head, “I don’t want to take yours, I’ll make my own.” 

“No, no,” He slides behind you and presses a kiss to your hair as he does, “take it, I’ll make another. Yunho, do you want one?” 

“I’m good,” He replies, coming to stand next to you at the small kitchen island. 

Mingi looks like he’s thinking about something as he finishes off your cup of coffee and throws an electric kettle back on to make another pourover, but Yunho draws your attention away. 

“Jagi,” He starts, “I don’t mean to… well, can we talk to you about something?” 

“Sure,” You angle towards him, his words making you a little nervous, “is everything okay?” 

“Absolutely,” He assures you, brushing his hand down the length of your arm, “but Mingi and I were talking while you were gone, about how to handle everything with these charges,” 

“Oh,” His timing is impeccable. 

“We just want to include you,” He says, squeezing your hand, “and make sure we’re handling things the way we should, but it might be smart to try and hire a lawyer before this goes any further,” 

You’re not sure how you’re supposed to say this. 

“We talked to Seonghwa and he agrees,” Yunho continues, “this will be the easiest way to protect all of us,”

“Yunho,” You start, “hang on,”

“If this is upsetting we can talk about it later,” Yunho adds, “but Seonghwa has some connections through his parents, he wants to make some calls.” 

Your stomach twists at the idea of Seonghwa needing to lean on a favor from his parents, and every choice you made that morning becomes perfectly validated with just that thought. You would never, ever let him do that, not after everything he’s done for you.  

“It’s not upsetting,” You assure Yunho, trying to interject, “I just don’t think that will be necessary,” 

“Getting a lawyer?” He clarifies. 

“Yeah,” You swallow hard and glance at Mingi, “I don’t think we’ll need to.” 

“I mean, having representation would be best,” Yunho says, “I know it’s stressful, but we need to be careful,” 

“Right,” You sigh, needing him to give you a breath to explain, “that’s if there’s a suit,” 

“Well sure, but,” Yunho starts but the penny drops for Mingi. 

“Tell me you didn’t,” Mingi turns to you fully and the words die on Yunho’s lips as he plays catch up. 

You stay quiet, holding his gaze, but when you let out a soft breath he sets his coffee back down. 

“y/n,” Mingi says, voice serious and leaving Yunho visibly more and more confused, “tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.” 

“I took care of it,” You settle on the most neutral words you can. 

“No,” He shakes his head, “you can’t just say that, you have to give us more than that.” 

“I was planning on it,” You push past Yunho to approach Mingi, resting your hands on his upper arms as you get closer into his space, “I swear, you just guessed it too fast,” 

“You smell like the hospital,” He explains, his nose crinkled up. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Yunho finally catches up, “why were you at the hospital?”

You just have to say it, “I talked to Minseok,” 

“Absolutely not,” Yunho pushes around the island and closer to you, “are you insane?” 

“He’s completely incapacitated,” You tell them both, “he couldn’t have touched me even if he wanted to,” 

“Yes, but you didn’t know that!” Yunho presses, his voice running high in surprise, but you can see he’s doing his best to keep level and cool. 

“Look at me,” You settle him, “do I look hurt? Upset?”

“No,” He admits with a puff of dejected air. 

“Am I myself?” You take both their hands in yours. 

“Yes,” Mingi admits. 

“Okay,” You sigh, “now stop freaking out and listen to me, because I promise you I’m perfectly fine,” 

Mingi nods once, and Yunho stays silent, which is enough for you to do what you need to do. 

“I went there to talk him out of the charges he’s filing,” You explain, “and I guess… I just wanted to understand what he did, so I wanted to talk to him.” 

“And?” Yunho prompts. 

“He’s an asshole,” You start. 

“Did he touch you?” Mingi asks, his voice a little tight and thready, “Say anything to you?” 

“No,” You promise, tugging him closer until his hands are properly on you, “come here,” 

“You can tell us if he did,” Yunho’s fingertips stroke a gentle pattern over the back of your neck, “we’re not angry, we just want to help,” 

“Speak for yourself, I still want to kill him,” Mingi says sharply. 

“Hey,” Yunho nudges him, “chill,” 

“Both of you relax,” You interject and they fall silent, “he didn’t do anything, he couldn’t even talk, his jaw is fully wired shut,” 

Yunho huffs a laugh, “Good,” 

You smile, “Honestly, he looked pretty pathetic,” 

“He is pretty pathetic,” Mingi points out. 

“Right,” You sigh, “well, aside from some choice words written out on a whiteboard, he didn’t have much to say or do. I explained that if he didn’t drop his charges things would be much worse for him in the long run… and he saw reason.” 

“He agreed to that?” Mingi’s eyes go wide. 

“Mhm,” 

“Why?” Yunho’s brows draw together, “Not out of the goodness of his heart, I assume,” 

“No,” You shake your head, “but when I tell you, I need you both to promise me you won’t be angry.” 

“That’s unfair,” Yunho says. 

“Just say it,” Mingi nods, “we won’t know until we know.” 

You chew the inside of your lip as you search for the right way to say this, and you know they’ll be upset no matter what, but they deserve honesty. You nod, “I agreed to drop my charges if he drops his,” 

They’re silent, deathly silent. 

“y/n,” Yunho swallows tightly as he gets his voice even, “why would you do that?” 

“He didn’t want to listen to me at first,” You explain, “and I thought it through on the walk. That’s the only piece of leverage we have right now,” 

“But he did something wrong, he should be held accountable,” Mingi exclaims, taking a full step away from you and running a hand through his hair. 

“You heard the questions the police asked me,” You interject, “how close was I to my next heat? Did I know Minseok was in pre-rut? Why did I stay in the room if he was making me uncomfortable? What was I wearing?” 

“But it wasn’t your fault,” Yunho insists, “he used tone, that’s fucking illegal,” 

“I said he used tone,” You counter quietly, “but he’ll say he didn’t and he’ll say I got confused or misunderstood. He’ll use our relationship against you both, and my relationship with Seonghwa to paint… a very particular kind of picture about me. We all know what he did but I’m telling you, legally? We’re on the losing side,” 

“But,” Mingi shakes his head, “that’s…” 

“I know,” You nod, “believe me, I know.” 

“You should have taken us with you,” Yunho says quietly, “we could have talked to him for you,” 

You shake your head, “No,” you need them to understand, “you got to hit him… you got to do something, I didn’t get to do anything but be fucking scared,”

His expression softens, “Oh,” 

“You protected me when I needed you,” You feel tears welling up now at the thought of it, “it’s my turn to protect you,” 

They’re so quiet, watching you carefully. 

“Nothing is taking you away from me again,” You say it, plain and clear, “nothing is taking away you or my friends, I won’t let that happen,” 

Mingi’s arms fold around you fast as he tucks you into his chest and you feel Yunho step close too, laying a warm palm on your back as he leans into you both. 

“Whatever you want, we’ll do it,” Mingi murmurs, “okay?” 

You nod, closing your eyes as you snuggle into the warmth of him. 

“And we’ll handle it together,” Yunho says, “but don’t make this decision for us, make it for you. We,” Yunho’s voice trails, but then he clears his throat and says what he wants to say anyways, “we love you. No matter what happens,” 

“I know,” You sigh, snaking an arm out of Mingi’s hold to find Yunho’s hand and tuck him a little closer too, “but I’m sure,” 

“I hate to state the obvious here,” Mingi pulls back from you so he can look at you both, “but if he’s not charged with anything, then he’s a free man.” 

That thought does make your stomach flip, but you knew that when you walked into the hospital room, “I know,” 

“It’s your choice,” Mingi reiterates, “but I still don’t know if I’m comfortable taking that kind of risk with you.” 

“I don’t even want to think about that,” Yunho says, his hands finding your shoulders as he tucks closer behind you. 

The image of Minseok’s face when you asked about his dance career flickers through your mind and you smile, “I think he got the picture,” 

“y/n,” Mingi’s voice is hesitant. 

“I told him in no uncertain terms,” You can’t get the smile off your face now, “that if he came anywhere near me again I’d break his jaw myself.” 

“You didn’t,” Yunho looks down to see your face. 

“I did,” You nod, “and before you freak out again, please remember that I’m here and totally fine in front of you,” 

Mingi gives you a truly withering look but lets you speak. 

“Honestly,” You breathe, “you should have seen him, he was lying there and could barely move, and when he didn’t want to drop the charges at first, I kind of got in his face,” 

Yunho’s hands tighten on your shoulders and Mingi scrubs a hand over his face, “Don’t tell me that,” 

“But I did,” You press your palms flat against Mingi’s chest, “I told him that if he didn’t drop his charges he would never get rid of me, I told him I’d make his life hell, and he couldn’t even move. He couldn’t touch me,” 

Mingi’s quiet, his eyes flicking up to Yunho behind you. Yunho sighs, dropping his forehead to rest against your hair and then his arms relax, wrapping around you from behind. 

“I really hate this story,” Yunho says, “but I’m also really proud of you,” 

“Me too,” Mingi’s hand closes over both of yours to give you a squeeze. 

“I just wish you had told us,” Yunho admits. 

“If I had told you I was going there you would have never let me go alone,” You point out. 

“Exactly,” Yunho’s arms tighten. 

You turn your head to press your lips to his arm where it wraps around your shoulder, and you nuzzle a little into his warm skin, “You know why I had to go though, right? You get it?” 

He nods against your head. 

Mingi smooths his hand up and down your forearm, “We do,” 

“I just hate the thought of him seeing you again,” Yunho admits, lifting his head and readjusting you in his arms, “or being close to you at all,” 

“I know,” You lean back into his embrace, “but this is the thing, he got to see me be fine after what he did,” 

“And you got to see him,” Mingi puts two and two together with ease and nods, “and he looked pathetic?” 

“More than that,” You smile, “he looked… afraid.” 

“Good,” Mingi says firmly. 

You remember the way he looked in that hospital bed, his eyes darting around the room. He shrank back when you got close, no doubt the scent of Yunho and Mingi lingering on your skin, and you smile up at them at the thought, “He was terrified my alphas were with me,”

Yunho’s lips quirk and he leans around you to meet your eyes, “He wasn’t afraid of us, sweetheart, he was afraid of you.” 

“No,” You laugh that off, but they don’t join in and Mingi makes a funny expression at your words. 

Yunho slides away, shoulder to shoulder with Mingi now as he looks down at you, “Yes, y/n,” he shakes his head, “he was vulnerable and alone and stuck in a hospital bed, and you’re…” 

“A powerful fucking omega,” Mingi supplies. 

Yunho nods, “And he knows that you could ruin the rest of his life.” 

You don’t know what to say. 

“y/n,” Mingi sighs, tugging you in until your bodies are close together, “if you ever do something that reckless again, I’ll lose my mind,”

You move to lift your head and push back, to keep trying to get him to understand why this was so important for you to do alone and why you made the choices you made, but he stops you short. 

“But,” He adds, kissing the top of your head, “it was also very brave, and I love you for it.” 

“Yeah?” You nudge him. 

“Yeah,” He admits. 

“I do wish I could have seen it,” Yunho grins, “that asshole scared of you,” 

Mingi’s hands slide to your hips, tightening their grip and he swallows hard, “Our fierce little omega,” 

A ripple of something needy and unexpected passes through your belly, “Is that what I am?” 

Yunho steps closer, finding a home for his hands on your body too, “You called us your alphas,” he says softly, “isn’t that what we are?” 

Mingi’s thumbs brush a warm steady pattern into your hips and you feel yourself melting into their hands, “Yes,” 

“That makes you our omega, sweetheart,” Yunho eyes flick from yours to your lips. 

The way they say omega to you doesn’t sound cold. It doesn’t sound cruel or commanding, no undertone of ownership despite the content of their words. When they say it all you hear is love. 

“Say that again,” You murmur softly. 

Mingi smiles, lifting his eyes to watch you.  

Yunho dips closer, his lips dangerously close, “Our omega?” 

You nod a little, heat flushing your cheeks. 

“Our omega,” He repeats, pressing his lips to yours. He waits to make sure you want it, he waits to feel you twist in their arms and reach up for him, and then he lets his body follow his thoughts, lips opening and his tongue dipping into your mouth. 

Mingi’s hand shifts, spreading wide over your lower belly, his fingertips at the waistband of your pants. You’re not ready for that, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you twitched in his hands when he first adjusted his grip, but either way he makes no move to take anything further. Neither of them do. Despite Yunho’s lips on yours, and the breath between you both, his hands stay put on your back and your cheek while Mingi just holds you, patient and soft at your side. 

When your lips break from Yunho, settling back down your heels after pushing up on tiptoe, Mingi uses his grip on you to spin you to face him, his mouth finding yours with ease. 

You hum pleasantly against his mouth, your hands gripping his broad shoulders for balance. 

“Ours,” Mingi murmurs between kisses, and then his hands spread to your backside, maneuvering you up into his arms in one quick motion, “you’re ours,” 

You wrap your legs around his middle and sink into the kiss, “I’m yours,” 

“Fuck, I missed you,” He mumbles between kisses, nuzzling your cheek with his nose. 

You nod against him, stealing one more kiss before you lean back, still perched comfortably with your legs around his waist. You smooth a hand over Mingi’s cheek and then reach for your other lover to bring him close, drawing him in by the hand until he’s nestled against both of your sides. Yunho’s hand reaches around to cup under your thigh and you settle your own hand on the back of Yunho’s neck, fingers stroking the shaggy bottom of his dark hair.

“This is nice,” Mingi smiles a little, eyes flicking between you and Yunho. 

Yunho nods, his free hand settling on Mingi’s back. 

“I can’t believe I convinced myself that we weren’t scent sympathetic,” You sigh a small, unfunny laugh, “this just feels so right,” 

“Knowing it and knowing it are two different things,” Mingi says, emphasizing the word. 

“I guess so,” 

“And it’s not like all scent matches work out,” Yunho adds, “we still have to work at it,” 

You nod, relaxing into their hold, “I want that,” 

“We do too,” Mingi squeezes your thigh a little with his wide hand. 

It’s funny how different it all feels now than months ago during your first panicked heat here, how settled you are with everything. You glance between them and ask the obvious, “When we go back to work, what are we this time?” 

“Pack,” Mingi says easily and your head snaps to his, eyebrows high. 

“Mingi,” You blink at him, surprised at his easy reference to such a permanent state of being. Scent matches and compatibility is one thing, but pack is something so much more. All of it flickers in your mind - claims, bonds, tying you together permanently. 

“Someday,” Yunho interjects smoothly, giving you a soft, reassuring kiss to the head, “far in the future, if you’ll have us.” 

“Someday,” The word slips out of you like an agreement, and despite all the fears shared with Wooyoung earlier, you do want them like that. You want to someday be able to give each other that.  

“Then we’re pack,” Mingi lights up at your words, “officially, unofficially, I don’t care. You’re with us, we’re with you.” 

Your body fills with warmth, but you can feel your heart rate picking up. 

Yunho smiles, “What did they used to call that back in the day?” 

“Courting,” You fill in the blank for him, and the word feels strangely old fashioned considering the fact that you’ve already spent a heat with them. When packs were more common, groups of alphas would court compatible omegas until it was sure they were a good match in more ways than just scent. The implication then was something more akin to a modern engagement and you can’t believe after everything you’ve been through with these two men, this is the conversation you’re having suddenly so casually in their kitchen. 

“Well,” Yunho laughs, “we don’t have to call it that,” 

“We’re,” You trail off, trying to find the words, “dating?” 

“Partners?” Yunho offers a slightly less casual word. 

“Together,” Mingi cuts in, “that’s what we are. We’re your alphas, we belong to you, and you,” he draws you closer in his arms to press a soft kiss on your lips, “are our omega.” 

“And at work?” You trail off. 

“We’ll be ourselves,” Yunho suggests, “people probably already know after last week anyways,” 

Mingi nods, dipping forward and pressing a kiss to your lips, “No more pretending we don’t mean something to each other,” 

“No more pretending,” You shift in his arms, wrapping your arms properly around his shoulders so that you’re hugging each other tightly. 

Mingi hums appreciatively, his breath warm against your hair and then he chuckles a little as he readjusts you in his arms, “Is it too fast if I start calling you yeobo, though? I feel like it suits you,” 

You pull back from the hug, “We’re not married, Mingi,” you remind him, “and I didn’t hear a proposal,” 

“You want to get proposed to, baby?” He teases and you shove his chest. 

“Knock it off,” Yunho smacks the back of Mingi’s head, “our relationship doesn’t have to break the sound barrier,” 

“I’m kidding,” Mingi squeezes you, shifting to take a few steps and deposit you on the kitchen counter before stepping back with a quick peck on your lips. 

“Hmm,” Yunho rolls his eyes and slumps back against the counter next to you, one wide hand smoothing over your thigh, “we just got you back, I’d like to avoid scaring you off,” 

“I’m not scared,” You shake your head, and as you say it, you realize it’s true. Six months ago you would have balked at Mingi’s veiled promise of his intentions, you would have told them all their hormones were mixed up and confused. You would have told yourself the same. It feels strange to feel completely at peace with the idea of a real someday with them. 

Yunho’s eyebrow quirks up in a question at your words and Mingi grins, a little self satisfied. 

“Actually,” You exhale heavily and straighten up, “I talked to Wooyoung yesterday and he helped me figure some things out,” 

“Things?” Mingi asks. 

“Um,” Your pounds in your chest, “yeah,” 

Yunho gives you an encouraging squeeze to keep going. 

You meet his eyes and take the leap, “Can you make that call? For me to talk with someone?” 

He softens and nods, “I’ll do it first thing,” 

“Okay,” You say, taking another deep breath, “then there’s one more thing to tell you,” 

Mingi doesn’t say anything, but he steps back closer to you, resting his hand on your opposite thigh. 

“It’s my turn to ask you to be patient,” You give them both an anxious, close lipped smile. 

“We’re listening,” Mingi soothes you. 

“Okay,” You take both their hands in yours, “here goes. The idea of bonding with you both is kind of sending me into a tailspin right now, and I’m terrified that it’s something I’m never going to get over. Wooyoung told me to talk to someone to work through that and I want to. I thought about it all day, and the truth is that I want to be with you both for as long as you’ll have me. You feel like you’re mine, now more than ever, and I’m scared, but I’m also scared of not trying,” 

“And if I can be yours like this for now,” You continue, “without bonds like you said, pack even if it’s unofficial, then maybe I can work through this and make it official someday. I’m just scared your definition of ‘far in the future’ and my definition are different though, and I,” 

“Fuck bonds,” Mingi interrupts, moving to cup both your cheeks and draw your eyes to his, “that shit doesn’t matter to me at all. We’re together by choice, not by claim. If you want my bite someday, I’ll give it to you, but you won’t ever hear me ask, alright? Never.” 

“Me too,” Yunho’s hand brushes down your hair, coming to rest on the back of your neck, “as far as I’m concerned it’s secondary, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’d sooner leave you than push you into a bond you aren’t ready for,” 

You jolt forwards, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders and nearly slipping off the counter when you do, but they hold you steady as you pull them in. 

“We just want you,” Mingi’s rough, low voice murmurs, “just this.” 

You feel their warmth, the steady thrum of each of their heartbeats, their scents curling around you like a safe, easy memory. The words find themselves right on the tip of your tongue again, only this time, this time they come. 

“I love you,” You take in a sharp, emotional breath as you get yourself together, overwhelmed by their words, “I love you both so much,” 

Yunho dips back to find your mouth, locking his lips on yours and sighing a breath of true relief against your mouth, “I love you too, sweetheart,”

Mingi redirects your gaze with his fingers on your jaw the moment Yunho starts to lean back and he kisses you hard, leaving you gripping his shirt for balance, “I love you,”

“God,” You smile, every part of your body alight with joy, “I think we might be crazy, but I don’t care,” 

“Good,” Yunho glances between you both, “because I think I’m having a crazy idea,” 

“What idea?” 

“Move in,” He blurts out, and he can’t stop smiling, “fuck giving you a key, fuck calling you our girlfriend. Move in properly, be ours. If we’re together, let’s be together, we’ve lost enough time,” 

“Who’s moving fast now?” Mingi says, but he’s smiling too. 

Everything in your body feels right, feels safe. You’ve been calling this home for days, and you’ve been calling them yours in your head for so much longer. 

You’re nodding before your mouth can catch up with your brain, “Okay, okay, yes, let’s do it,” 

Yunho pulls you up into his arms and holds you close, peppering kisses across your temple, “We’ll figure everything else out later, but at least we’ll be together,” 

“Thank God,” You melt into his embrace, meeting Mingi’s eyes over Yunho’s shoulder, “because I really didn’t want to leave,” 

“No leaving this time,” Mingi smiles softly as Yunho nods his head against yours. 

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head, agreeing with his words. 

“We’ll get everything from your place as soon as we can, make it official,” Mingi adds. 

You nod, and then a thought occurs to you, “Is there even enough room for me here?” 

Yunho unwraps himself from around you and nods, “We’ll need a bigger bed,”

“For a start,” Mingi nods, “and you need a nest,” 

“Yeah?” Your very own nest, a real one. 

“Oh, babe,” Mingi finds your hand, tugging you in, “you’re about to get fucking spoiled, anything you want, we’ll figure it out.” 

“You don’t have to, I just want to be here,” You tell them. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Yunho says, “we’ve waited for you for so long,” 

“Too long,” Mingi wraps his arms around you both, “way too long,” 

It doesn’t matter anymore what pushed you into their arms, what kind of day you’ve had, everything you’ve had to get through. Not a thing in the world matters but this choice, the safe home of their arms, three of you against the world like it was always meant to be. 

#this night together fic #honeyhotteoks fics #honeyhotteoks updates #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez series #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #yungi x reader #yunho fic #yunho ff #mingi fic #mingi ff #yungi fic #yungi ff #yungi series

[tickle-bugs]

But You Were Mine

Summary: Still hung up on the fit of Bruce’s body against his, Clark attempts the oldest possible ritual: getting to know his pseudo-sweetheart. Too bad Bruce Wayne is the most unknowable man on Earth. Sequel to Chase the Memory of it Still.

Yet again, blame @fickle-tiction for this. Doing a midnight post and run so I don’t have to look at this in the morning lol. Also warning for mild barely even lukewarm makeouts. Probably tamer than Part 1 lol. 

Also also: the beginning scene with Clark and Lois works best if you imagine that Lois doesn’t know that Bruce is Batman but suspects him, all while thinking Clark doesn’t know that Bruce is Batman. So she’s trying to protect him from being lied to and Clark is like ‘but Lois I love him’

“Clark Joseph Kent, you’re a grade-A idiot.” Lois thwaps the back of his head with a rolled-up newspaper. 

“I know,” Clark groans into the surface of Lois’s desk. She thwaps him again. 

“So, let me get this straight.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You somehow conned your way into a fake relationship with Bruce Wayne of all people, and now you have feelings for him?” 

“I’ve always had feelings for him,” He mumbles, suddenly feeling very small in his seat. When he looks up at her, she’s glaring at him. Ah, he’s in trouble. 

“You don’t know him.” She spreads her hands on the surface of her desk, knocking aside a few Daily Planet pens. He picks them up and puts them back. 

“Yes I do.” Clark frowns. 

“He’s an airhead playboy with zero priorities. You deserve someone who’ll be honest—“

“Oh? Like Selina?” 

Lois gets very quiet. Her stare pierces like a fine needle through his throat. A few battered emotions flicker over her face, leaving in their wake a rare and unguarded Lois. Then, quicker than the cat that stole her heart, her face resigns into something sharp and deadly. 

“I’m sorry.” He circles the desk and pulls her into a hug. After a begrudging glare, she tips her head into his chest. They inhale and exhale together—a routine they’ve shared for years. She relaxes into him.

“No, you’re right.” She chuckles. “I fell for a thief. That’s on me.” 

“And I spent the night with the one guy I shouldn’t have. We can’t all be perfect.” Clark elbows her, looking for a smile. Lois’s eyes blow wide and she starts spluttering. 

“You hooked up with him?” She thankfully keeps to a hissing whisper, but he can tell she wants to shout. He contemplates flying around the Earth fast enough to undo the moment, but she’s gripping his shirt tight enough to stop him.

“Well, okay, we kissed a bunch but it didn’t go further—“ 

“Oh god, we’re both hopeless.” She groans into her hands.

“No, not hopeless. We can both have what we want. I’ll call Bruce if, and only if, you call Selina.” He pulls her hands away from her face. She huffs and smiles. 

“This optimism thing is going to bite you in the ass. How do you think you’re gonna maintain a relationship with someone who doesn’t know that you, uh, work two jobs?” She casts a weary glance towards the office door and drops her voice even lower.

“He gets me, Lois.” It’s all he can say. It’s the truth. 

“Alright.” She brushes a thumb over his cheek. “Then get to know him at least. Find out if he’s the kind of guy worth being around.”

“I know he's worth it. That’s not ever in question.” Clark can’t help but smile a little as he thinks of Bruce. “It’s an internal thing. He sees me. I see him. We don’t have to pretend with each other. It’s…just us.”

Her keen eyes scan every inch of his face, even as he trails off.

“You should tell him.” She squeezes his arm. 

“What? No. Absolutely not. I only said that because I know you won’t call her. C’mon, you’re supposed to be the voice of reason here.” He squints at her. She flicks him in the forehead. 

“Okay, well the ‘voice of reason’ thinks you should say something before you lose this…somehow healthy-sounding relationship you have. With Bruce Wayne, of all people,” She mutters that last part, but Clark both hears and ignores it. 

“We’re friends and it’s good. Really good. He trusts me at least a little. I don’t want him to think I have ulterior motives. If I could read him at all, figure out what he wants…but I can’t. I can’t lose him.” 

“This isn’t the healthiest advice, but…start a list. Treat him like a case. What are some things that draw you to him? Things he hides? Things he shows only to you? If it makes you do that dopey giggle thing you do, he’s probably worth it.” She leans against the edge of her desk and crosses her arm. 

“I don’t do a giggle…thing,” he mumbles, but his face is already heating up an incriminating amount. 

“It’s cute. He’ll probably like it.” She tweaks his nose. He swats her hand away, but his spirits are far lighter.  

His phone buzzes and he checks it as discreetly as possible. 

B: Free this afternoon?

Clark smiles. 

C: On my way. :)

“I’ve gotta go.” He stands and shrugs on his suit jacket. 

“Boyfriend awaits?” She wiggles her eyebrows. 

“Bye, Lois.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Tell him I’d love to do an exclusive with him.” She snickers. 

“I’ll tell him that when you call Selina.” He smirks. She gasps her way into laughter, her face blooming pink. Her hand comes up to play with a diamond necklace sitting on her collarbone--a cat-shaped pendant he’s never seen her wear before--and shakes her head fondly. 

“I will after you kiss your playboy. Again.” She raises her eyebrow. Checkmate. 

“Bye, Lois,” He says a little louder. She playfully shoos him from her office. He kisses her cheek.

Clark can only smile when he hears her phone ringing and the faint “Hey, kitty” through the glass. 

….

It’s apt that Gotham is as dark and segmented as its protector, Clark thinks, because he’s never in his life met anyone as fragmented as Bruce Wayne. Everyone in the League is broken in some way, battered by traumas that still threaten to crush them, but Bruce is markedly...different. He covers the cracks in his soul with masks. For every unveiling, six more facades lay below it. 

The reporter in him finds a dark fascination with it. The lost Kryptonian in him finds it…depressing. The human in him is currently bouncing on his heels in the lobby of Wayne Tower until Bruce finally meets him downstairs. 

Bruce glides off of one of the elevators and nods at a few hushed executives who scurry in behind him. He must come off so effortless to them—not a hair out of place, a new suit and coat every day, but Clark can see the exhaustion clouding his eyes. Bruce Wayne is put together. Bruce is tired. 

“You seem eager.” Bruce gives him a practiced small smile as they fall into step. 

“I’m having the slowest of slow days. This was a much needed adventure.” Clark stretches his spine. It gives a loud, much needed crack. He’s just a little too big for his chair at the Planet and it’s starting to take its toll. 

“We’re just walking down the street,” Bruce chuckles. He bumps the doors to the building open and Clark darts out. A light flurry of snow twirls through the air as they start their walk. He catches a snowflake on his tongue before he can think better of it. Bruce’s smile grows a little wider. 

“So? Every trip away from my desk is an adventure. C’mon, I know a spot.” Clark nods to the side and they hang a left, passing under a train overpass. 

“You know a spot in Gotham?” Bruce raises a brow. 

“I get around.” Clark grins. 

………………………………………………………………………………………….

They end up at a patisserie on the East side, a small family-run shop that deserves far more business than it gets. Clark can smell the wonders within from a good mile away.

Months ago, when he was helping Lois write a scathing exposé on Wayne Enterprises, this spot had served him well. Nothing better than a building full of sweets and a decent wifi connection to get you through betraying a good friend. Shredding that article was easily the best decision of Clark’s life, especially since Lois’s pivot towards flaying Lexcorp alive won her an award. 

He buys them both coffee—black for Bruce, vanilla for himself—and sets about the intricate ritual of sweetening his coffee to perfection. This is normalcy. Normalcy is good. 

“This is the only part of Gotham I like.” Clark steals little peeks at Bruce, waiting for him to inevitably make fun of him, but his eyes are elsewhere.

A refrigerated display tower of macarons stands proudly next to the register, boasting all sorts of delicious surprises. The splash of color is welcome among the somewhat dreary day outside. 

“Hm?” Bruce’s gaze struggles to find its way back to Clark. 

“You seem distracted.” Clark pops the stirring straw into his mouth and pulls the remaining coffee out with a little slurp. He pops the lid onto his cup much slower than necessary. The first time you crush a cup of boiling liquid in public tends to change you, after all. He’s grown since then. 

“Heavy work day.” For a man so difficult to read, Bruce has never clearly been more full of shit. He doesn’t even try to look away from the cookie display. 

“Do you…want a macaron?” Clark doesn’t bother trying to stifle his amusement. 

“What? No.” Bruce withdraws slightly. 

“What’s your favorite? My treat.” Clark jerks a thumb towards the display. 

“Money isn’t the problem.” Bruce scoffs, but not unkindly. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. Clark tries to ignore the still-fading lovebite on Bruce’s neck that he left. 

“Then what is?” Clark leans forward on his elbows. Surprise flickers across Bruce’s face for the slightest of moments. 

“…I’ve never had one,” Bruce mumbles, shuffling a bit in his seat. Clark beams. 

“First time for everything. C’mon.” Clark vigorously beckons him over to the line. Bruce trails behind with an endearing awkwardness that he’s learned to identify: slow steps, shifty eyes, and silence. 

Clark takes his time to point out his favorite flavors and make a few recommendations, but he feels like he’s stumbling around in the dark. His sweet tooth is only rivaled by Diana’s—even then, their tastes match so closely that he’s a little lost with someone like Bruce. 

Bruce stares deeply at him. Clark’s rambling stutters to a halt. He pulls on his collar a bit. Adjusts his glasses. 

Bruce’s eyes seem so warm. Must be the light. 

“If today was my last day to live and you had to give me a macaron, what would you choose?” Bruce leans close. His eyes are on the display, thank god, because Clark doesn’t know that he can handle more of that eye contact right about now. 

“It amazes me that you’re so committed to the dark and brooding thing.” Clark rolls his eyes, and after some thought: “Raspberry.” 

“Hm. Okay.” And that’s that. Bruce orders quickly and walks away with his prize, leaving Clark to scramble after him. They sit back down in their quiet little corner, the naturally-frosted window fogging slightly at their presence. 

Bruce opens his box of macarons clinically, like he’s stripping it for parts. He takes one out and admires the color, gives it a little test squish, sniffs it. Clark watches the process with vested interest until Bruce pulls out another box and slides it towards him. 

“What’s this?” Clark pulls the box close. 

“Strawberry Cheesecake macarons. I saw you eyeing them when we came in.” Bruce pokes the box again, sliding them just a little more forward. 

“I’m not subtle, am I?” Clark pushes his glasses up again. He cracks the box open and pops a cookie in his mouth. His eyelids flutter shut and he does a little dance in his chair. 

“It’s one of your more endearing qualities.” Bruce quirks a small, smug smile. 

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Clark fake sniffles. The resulting eyeroll is incredibly satisfying. 

Bruce takes a mouse-like nibble of the macaron, catching maybe an atom of cookie and filling between his teeth. He chews thoughtfully. 

“So? Do we have a winner?” Clark rests his chin on his hand. 

“I think so. You have good taste,” Bruce hums, taking another tentative bite of the macaron. A gentle, genuine smile peaks on his lips like a glimpse of the sun through storm clouds. 

“That’s the second nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Clark swipes a macaron from Bruce’s box fast enough to send a small breeze fluttering between them. 

“And it will never happen again.” Bruce peeks open one eye as he finishes his macaron. 

Okay, bumping shredding that Wayne Enterprises article down to number two. This, Clark thinks, watching Bruce smile to himself, this is easily top of the list. 

1 ) He likes raspberries. 

It takes later in the week until they have a moment to truly spend a bit of time together. Criminal roundups never leave much personal time, and Clark’s hearing has him near-constantly running to save lives. But, on a quiet Wednesday night, he has a moment. 

He loves visiting Wayne Manor. It’s been a while since he last swung by, but he adores the place. He could spend hours swooning over the architecture alone. It’s a beautiful place to disappear for a while, and he’s been doing that more and more lately. 

He gets buzzed into the gates easy enough with a lie about taking the bus, and then he’s standing in the massive foyer and hanging up his coat by the door. The manor smells of old wood and citrus. Clark draws in a big breath of it. 

He turns and jumps a bit when a flock of people are suddenly staring at him atop the stairs. Bruce’s kids, right. He knows Dick, Tim, and Jason. The others are still a bit fuzzy to him. They all leer from the landing like royalty watching a gladiator in the pit. 

“Hey there.” He waves at the smallest and angriest of the bunch. This is Damien, he’s pretty sure.

“So you’re the new guy.” A blonde—Steph, he remembers her from the Christmas card—leans on the railing with her forearms. 

“I wouldn’t mess with him, Steph. He’s tougher than he looks,” Dick murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, trying his best to be subtle. Clark gives him a friendly wave. He returns it. 

“He looks like he wears a pocket protector. I could take him,” Steph whispers to Dick. Clark tries to rein in his expression so he doesn’t give himself away. 

“I’m not sure we’ve met. I’m Clark. You’re all Bruce’s kids, right? It’s nice to meet you.” He tries to make himself look as friendly as possible. He gets a few waves, but mostly owlish stares. He sees where they get it from. 

“Is your father home?” Clark sticks his hands in his pockets and tries to kill the silence. 

“Bruce! Your boyfriend’s here!” Jason bellows. Clark bites his lip to hide his smile. 

“Clark?” Bruce peeks around the corner, then shuffles quickly down the stairs. 

“Hey. I, uh, had a few minutes. Just came by to see you before I went home.” Clark rubs the back of his neck with a smile, trying to kill the flutter in his chest. 

“Bruce, say something,” Tim hisses, crouching behind the banister as if Clark can’t see him. Bruce startles, glares at him, and then gestures for Clark to follow him. As they pass, all of the kids watch him go, whispering in a building flurry that he doesn’t bother dissecting. He tells himself it’s because they deserve their privacy, but really…he’s nervous. Severely. 

“I hope they didn’t make you uncomfortable. They can be a bit…eager.” Bruce’s smile is warm beneath the lights of the old manor. 

“They’re wonderful. Terrifying, but wonderful.” Clark chuckles and bumps their shoulders together while they walk. 

It’s these precious minutes that define their friendship more than anything. Clark tells Bruce all about his day, about his Lex Luthor exposé making the front page, about everything and nothing at all. He talks and Bruce listens, egging him on with gentle tilts of the head when he shyly falls into silence.

By the time they reach the gardens, it’s Clark’s turn to listen. Bruce tells him about the kids, occasionally stopping whenever he notices one lurking. He asks for his opinion on random scenarios. Clark can’t tell if they’re hypotheticals but he answers as truthfully as he can, chasing the little noises of appreciation that Bruce makes as he talks. 

Not only are Bruce’s masks interchangeable, taking him from Bruce to Batman to Bruce Wayne, they’re also removable. Clark doesn’t know when he was bestowed with the honor of being with Just Bruce, but he’s immensely grateful for it.  

“Good evening, Mr. Kent.” Alfred nods respectfully in his direction. “Master Bruce, you have a call from Mr. Fox. Line three, sir.” 

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce squeezes Clark’s shoulder. “You can wait here, if you’d like.” 

“Am I allowed to touch anything?” Clark teases.

“Anything you want.” Bruce winks at him, completely straight-faced, and disappears into the corridors of the manor. Clark’s face grows embarrassingly hot and he reclines against the lip of the fountain. 

He birdwatches as he waits, counting which of Bruce’s kids make normal, completely non-suspicious trips through his personal space. Dick’s the least sneaky of the bunch, but it lends him a genuine quality. He sits and chats with Clark for a few minutes, asking him about work and the like. He asks about his relationship with Bruce and Clark mumbles something non-committal, cheeks warm. 

Bruce, uh, never put out that statement about them breaking up. Clark thinks he might be alright if it never gets published. 

As the hours draw on, he catalogs where the other Robins like to hide. Tim and Damien have an affinity for hiding in the massive hedges surrounding the gardens, while Steph takes to watching from the windows. Cass is the hardest to spot but he catches her on the roof a few times, perched and enjoying the warm dusk breeze. He sees Jason with her once too.

If he’s learned anything from their father, it’s that staring is caring. Probably.

When Alfred fetches him hours later, he arrives at a scene he wants to burn permanently into his memory. 

Bruce is seated at the beautiful. obnoxiously long table in the dining room. He’s got a knee hiked up on the chair, picking idly at the fabric of his pants. On the table, a black kitten rolls around and bats at a toy. It’s sweet and oddly domestic. 

“Hey.” Bruce doesn’t turn. 

“Hi. Who’s this?” Clark holds a hand out to the kitten and it drops its paw on top of his palm, mewing softly. The squeaky, deflating noise that leaves him is not one he’s proud of. It’s so sweet and small. 

“Nyx. She’s a stray. I give her food when I can.” Bruce scratches her head gently. Nyx purrs and lays down on the table, tucking her head into the attention. She’s a precious baby, is what she is. Clark has half a mind to take her home. 

That is, until Bruce sneezes loud enough to send poor Nyx running. She flings herself off the table and into one of the manor’s seemingly endless corridors. 

“Bless you.” Clark chuckles. Bruce pulls a face. 

“Master Bruce.” Alfred hands him a box of tissues. 

“I can hear you laughing, Alfred,” he sniffles, hair a bit ruffled from the sneeze. Clark purposefully averts his eyes. 

“I would never, sir. Goodnight, Mr. Kent.” Alfred bows his head, sharing that mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Goodnight, Alfred.” Clark grins, settling into the oversized chair beside Bruce. 

2 ) He’s got a cat allergy, but he feeds the strays anyway. Bruce = cat person?

“Stop it.” Hearing the Batman voice and knowing it’s mostly because Bruce is annoyed is truly golden. 

“Stop what?” Clark floats leisurely alongside Bruce, arms behind his head. Keeping pace with him isn’t hard--he’s fast for human standards, but not by Clark’s. He’s made it a habit anyways not to zip too far ahead as they’ve grown closer. It kills the banter. 

“Look, all I’m saying is that if Batman started flying, criminals would absolutely take the week off. If I was a criminal and I thought Batman had suddenly gotten superpowers, I’d simply leave Gotham.” Clark flips upside down and hangs in front of Bruce, still drifting backwards in pace with him. 

He can sense Bruce trying not to smile, but when he opens his mouth to tease, karma speaks instead. Clark smacks his head into the side of a building just as Bruce slips through a narrow space between it and its neighbor. Clark flies up over the building and catches up with Bruce again, scowling. 

“I know you’re laughing.” Clark crosses his arms. 

“Me? Never. Just thinking about how great it is to be grounded.” Bruce allows himself the tiniest of smirks, just enough to be infuriating, and it’s Clark’s turn to roll his eyes. 

3 ) He restrains his emotions. Even the good ones. 

Roaming the Hall of Justice late at night is a cultivated hobby of Clark’s. The best snacks hide in the dark, after all, and he knows that no one’s gonna come bother him about a missing bag of chips at this hour. He needs time to think and food to think with. 

Clark’s feelings for Bruce could both span and fill an ocean. He doesn’t know when this happened. As far as he can remember, there’s always been this beacon of warmth in his chest guiding him to Bruce. Through every late night and early morning, through hopelessness and joy, Bruce is a constant. It’s too much to put on one person. Too risky. 

The ‘l word’ pops into his head like a dark omen, and he skids to a halt. He glances around, listening for any league members skulking around. All he hears is his own thundering heartbeat. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

He makes his way into the kitchen past a snoring Arthur, pausing to snatch the jumbo bag of cheese puffs from his limp grasp. He slips quietly out into the hall, passing by the lounge, where Bruce and Diana are laughing—

Clark backpedals, nearly tripping over his own feet, but god it’s worth it. Bruce is clutching Diana’s shoulder and giggling, stuck in the loop of overwhelming laughter that follows an unyielding barrage of jokes. 

They’re still suited up, probably fresh off a patrol, and Clark wonders how long they’ve been sitting here. A mountain of chocolates, the fancy ones, cover the surface of the table. Diana delicately sorts through and plucks the ones she wants from the pile as Bruce watches. 

“Diana’s the new team comedian. None of you are funny.” Bruce recovers from his laughter, but the smile stays, and Clark makes an active effort to be normal about it. The delirium of another late night in a row must have gotten to him. That’s the only explanation. 

“Barry will be devastated.” Clark chuckles. He leans in the doorframe and catches a cheese puff in his mouth. 

“He will survive.” The sparkle in Diana’s eye has him wishing he had tuned into their conversation. 

“If I had known y’all were partying in here, I would’ve come to hang out.” Clark crunches on another cheese puff, mostly to distract himself from the way Bruce’s eyes are sparkling. He didn’t know they could do that. 

“There’s no reason you can’t party with us now.” Diana gestures to the seat next to Bruce. 

Aw, what the hell? Eating junk food together couldn’t be much worse than doing it alone. 

4 ) Bruce can laugh--he just has to be caught off-guard. He likes to laugh (?) (who doesn’t?)

“When you said you needed help, I thought you meant with translating.” Clark wanders into the room. The concrete is irritatingly cold on his feet. 

Bruce types away wildly at a computer station with too many monitors. A pair of giant goggles on his head pull his hair out of his face. Clark leans over his shoulder to see what he’s doing, but the code flying across the screen is a nightmare. 

At the opposite end of the room, a mechanical rig sits primed on a set of rails. In the center, a gnarly looking gun barrel stares out into an empty expanse. 

“I’m trying to test new ammunition for the Batmobile, but my target system is down. Can’t reboot it.” Bruce clicks something else and the gun starts calibrating. A pathetic clicking sound picks up as targets struggle to ascend from the floor, twitching lifelessly in their compartments. 

“Do you want help?”

“With coding?” Bruce turns with an expression just shy of condescending.

“God no. I am bulletproof, if you remember.” Clark sticks his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. 

“Doesn’t help. I need to study the impacts afterwards.” Bruce gestures to a massive chunk of concrete on a stand nearby. Clark hefts it into his arms with a quiet grunt. 

“Just...keep up with the gun. I prefer my walls without bullet holes.” Bruce quickly turns away from him. Clark can hear his heartbeat pounding. He starts to ask, but the gun rig starts warming up and he sacrifices his curiosity. 

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready.” Clark adjusts his stance to prep for the recoil. The machine whirrs and clicks as it loads itself with rounds. Bruce types in a few things on a nearby control panel and pulls the goggles down over his eyes. 

The gun barrel spins and whines as it gains force. Clark hovers a few inches off the ground and tenses. He lines the concrete up with his chest, his eyes just clearing over top of it. 

The machine fires quicker and lower than he anticipates. 

A sharp zing zips up Clark’s side, then another, then another, and he drops the concrete, instead covering his smile while forcing himself to stay still. That’s certainly not his best idea--no block means no cover, which subsequently means getting pelted with another wave of bullets. 

Clark crumples into a flurry of giggles before he can stop himself. He curls up as much as he can—partly to stop any new onslaughts, mostly to hide his reddening face. He’s been shot more than anything and it’s never bothered him. He didn’t know he could be ticklish to touch, let alone to goddamn bullets. 

“Clark! Are you okay?” Bruce leaps over the gun rig and pulls the safety goggles up onto his head. 

“Y-Yes. I’m fine. Your machine…thing packs a punch.” Clark clears his throat to stop the rogue snickers forming a conga line in his throat. 

“I thought you were supposed to be bulletproof.” Bruce huffs, kicking the pieces of shattered brick out of the way. He swipes at Clark’s torso, probably trying to brush away the dust on him. Clark flinches under the touch and coughs over a laugh. 

“I am. It just…felt…weird.” Clark snatches Bruce’s wrist a little too quickly. Bruce’s brow furrows and he leans close, eyes glued to Clark’s stomach with sheer worry. His face resolves into tense understanding. Clark lets his hand go. 

“What? What?” He tries to catch Bruce’s gaze. There shouldn’t be anything wrong. He feels fine. Nothing pierced. Definitely not bleeding—he learned what that feels like and he hates it. But Bruce has an eye for things that Clark could never dream of noticing, and right now he’s staring like Clark already has a foot in the grave. 

“Can’t believe you fell for that.” Bruce smirks. He pulls Clark close—hello—and kneads unhurried fingers into his stomach. 

No one will ever believe him. Bruce Wayne is tickling him and no one will ever believe him. 

“B-Bruce!” Clark strains out of Bruce’s grip as best as he can, trying not to break any useful bones, but his joints keep turning to jelly. His forehead collides with Bruce’s shoulder and he shimmies rather uselessly. 

“This is very entertaining, in case you were wondering.” Bruce hums and starts pinching up Clark’s sides. His warm breath sends goosebumps flaring over his throat. 

“I wasn’t!” It’s more of a squeak than words. Evil fingers manage to squeeze beneath his arms and Clark jumps directly into the air. 

“Did you just fly away?” A genuine laugh floats out of Bruce, warm and a bit scratchy. Clark wishes he could hear more of that instead of his own dorky laughter ringing in his ears. 

“Not on purpose—shut up!” Clark aims a half-hearted kick at Bruce’s shoulder. His face burns hotter than the sun and he hides in his hands. 

Bruce grabs his ankle and tries to reel him in like a lost balloon. Clark almost falls for it until suddenly calloused hands are scritching along the bottom of his foot. He giggle-snorts. Kryptonite through the chest would be a mercy, at this point. 

A hush falls over the room. Clark dares to peek through his fingers. 

“Oh.” Bruce blinks, then the most wicked grin overtakes his face. “Do that again.” 

“You’re the worst!” Clark pulls his leg towards his body and accidentally takes Bruce with it--who doesn’t seem the least bit bothered, by the way. Every time he lowers his leg, Bruce doesn’t let go. 

“I don’t want to drop you!” Clark shrieks as if a bug is crawling on him, rather than a person. 

“Then don’t.” Bruce squeezes his calf and Clark whines his way into a fit of cackles. His body trembles with the effort to not fly directly through the ceiling. The illusion of escape makes it so much worse, especially with Bruce’s fingers worming behind his knee. 

“You coming down or am I gonna have to call the fire department?” Jesus, Bruce has a real talent for smirking out loud. Clark tries to shake him off without throwing him across the room. Bruce digs his fingers into Clark’s thigh like he’s climbing a tree and the resulting yelp has Clark resolving to flee the country. 

“Y-You’re not building a great case as to why I should!” He flinches after a flurry of giggles and slams his head into the ceiling. Plaster and dust rain down on the two of them. Clark tries to cover the crater he left behind with his hands and a bashful smile. 

“Alright, I’m done. I’d like to keep my ceiling in one piece.” Bruce pulls him down to Earth, only letting go when he’s sure that Clark won’t float away again. 

“Ticklish Superman. Who knew?” Bruce scritches beneath Clark’s chin, just like at the gala all those weeks ago, and Clark shoves his chin down with a snort. 

“No one, and I prefer it that way. Keep it quiet.” He can’t muster any severity in his voice and he’s not sure it would help if he could. The thought of Lois finding out--or worse, Diana--starts an inescapable loop of nervous smiles and a light fluttering in his chest. 

“No promises.” Bruce smirks. “I hear Lois wants an exclusive. Maybe I’ll give her a call.”

“Don’t you dare. Bruce—“

He dials her office line, jogging towards the stairs. Clark shrieks and chases after him. 

5 ) He’s mischievous. Deathly so. 

…

After a long while of staring at his pitiful little list, Clark still finds himself restless. He has naught more than a skeleton, clinging scraps of Bruce’s infinite depths. The paper isn’t suited to contain him. He might actually know less than before.

Even as Bruce beats the shit out of him, he can’t think of anything else. 

“Why don’t you let anyone get to know you?” Clark frowns at Bruce across the sparring mats. Bruce runs and leaps onto his shoulders, executing a flawless scissor grip. Clark raises his hand to support his back and Bruce swats him away. 

“What?” Bruce grunts, bringing his elbows down onto Clark’s head. He barely notices. 

“You’re always so stoic. You never let anyone see you happy.” Clark flips Bruce off his shoulders and down onto his back. He puts his hands on his hips and stares down at him. 

“No, I never let anyone see me vulnerable. There’s a difference.” Bruce wraps his legs around Clark’s and takes him down, quickly rolling atop him. Within a second, Bruce unleashes a flurry of blows that, if Clark could feel more than dull impacts, he probably would fear.  

“You’re allowed to be vulnerable in front of your friends, Bruce. That’s what makes them friends, not coworkers.” Clark catches his fists and holds them. 

“I’ll pass along your suggestion. Are you going to fight back or should I go get Diana?” Bruce raises an eyebrow, breathing hard. Clark flips them both and pins Bruce down. 

“I just think—stop wiggling—we should bond more, y’know? Know thy enemy, and all that.” Clark keeps pressing down until Bruce sighs and goes still in his grip. He knows he’s defeated. Smart man. 

“That tends to apply to actual enemies, not coworkers.” Bruce sighs. 

“Well, we’re more than that, aren’t we?” Clark presses, searching Bruce’s eyes. Bruce nods, looking all for the world like he might bolt from the room. 

“Sooo, what’s your favorite color?” When Bruce is silent, Clark rolls his eyes and sits back. “Mine is yellow. Your turn.”

“…lavender.” Bruce eyes him warily. Clark helps him to his feet and they start the cycle again. The minute they stop fighting each other’s rhythm, they find a flawless sync. 

“Nice! Okay, uh…favorite food?” Clark ducks under Bruce’s left hook and shoves him back. 

“Alfred’s chicken noodle.” Bruce kicks Clark across the face and he lets himself go down. He brushes some of the dust off. 

“That sounds nice.” He grins up at Bruce from the mat. The light haloes behind his head so beautifully. 

“Yeah.” Bruce clears his throat. “And you…?” He pulls Clark to his feet and resets his stance. 

“Can’t go wrong with a slice of fresh apple pie.” Clark sweeps forward with a wink. 

Bruce shakes his head and snickers, then punches Clark hard enough in the ribs to crack his own knuckles. 

…

Two sharp knocks on the doorframe announce Bruce before his voice does. Clark looks up from the dull light of his laptop. 

“Got a second?” Bruce leans in the doorframe, cloaked in slight shadow. He’s dressed comfortably, surprisingly, in a soft t-shirt and sweatpants that hug him well. It makes Clark wanna pull him close. 

“Always, yeah.” Clark sets his computer aside and sits up. Bruce leans against the edge of his desk and fishes something out of his pocket. 

“Found some intel. I could use a fresh set of eyes on it.” The moon casts loving light across his eyes and jaw.

“Of course.” Clark sits up more. 

“Found this nearby. I was hoping you could decipher it.” Bruce hands over a scrap of folded paper. Clark furrows his brow as he takes it, gingerly opening it up. He casts a curious glance at Bruce before he starts to read.

It’s his notes. His notes on Bruce. Shit.

He looks up slowly, horrified. Bruce smirks in full force, oozing mischief that Clark now knows is very much in character. 

“Normally, I’m not a fan of being watched. Try to avoid it as much as I can.” 

“You’re a hard man to read.” Clark clears his throat and folds the paper down to hide its contents further. 

“Yet it seems you’ve cracked the code,” Bruce hums. Clark catches the faint glimmer of that old playboy spark. Bruce’s lips tilt into a devilish smirk. 

“So, I’m right then? It’s important…for the record.” Clark scoots up against the headboard in an attempt to look casual. Bruce sits at the foot of the bed. Voluntarily. Clark stops breathing.

“I would say that parts are accurate.”

“Parts?” He clears his throat. Bruce snatches the paper from his grip. He starts murmuring as he skims the list. 

“Let’s see…I like raspberries but I’m allergic.”

“You’re what?” The color drains from Clark’s face. Bruce shrugs.

“What else? Oh—I’m a dog person. I have a soft spot for cats.”

“Huh.” 

“I am physically capable of laughter.” Bruce rolls his eyes.

“Proved that one already.” Clark smiles. Bruce scowls, then turns back to the paper. Clark remembers, in a terrible flash, the looping doodles of ‘Clark Kent-Wayne’ at the bottom of the page and chokes out a strangled scream. 

He disintegrates the paper with a precise blast of heat vision. He feels a little bad for scorching the wall, but not that bad. The evidence is gone. Plausible deniability. 

“Seriously?” He brushes the ash off his hands. 

“I gotta keep my secrets.” Clark shrugs, but his face is incandescent with heat. 

“What about that paper was so bad that it made Superman blush?” Bruce smirks. 

“There is nothing on God’s green earth that you could do to make me tell you.” Clark grins from atop the high ground. 

Bruce plucks his glasses off of his nose and sets them aside, careful not to touch the lenses. It’s a tender gesture for what is essentially a costume, but something in his heart flutters at the delicate care. 

“Are you sure?” He leans close—close enough for Clark to catch a whiff of cologne and the intoxicating sparkle in his eye, close enough for Clark to lean in on instinct, and close enough for Bruce to wrap his hands around Clark’s waist like he’d been wishing he would since that stupid gala. Clark’s lips part. 

“Okay, there might be a couple thi—“ Clark cuts himself off with a squeal, slamming his head into the headboard—the resulting crack speaks to a later promise of duct tape. As Bruce shoves his hands under his arms, Clark’s laughter bowls him over quicker than he can apologize. 

“You are such a kid!” He throws his head back and cackles, curling into the tightest possible ball that his hulking form could take. Bruce leans over him. 

“You have no grounds to call me that. You’re giggling.” Bruce raises an eyebrow, 

“Because you’re t-tickling—” Clark regretfully finishes his sentence with a snort. Bruce lights up and chases the sound, relentlessly working his fingers into the grooves of his ribs. Clark hits his head again--there goes the rest of the headboard. And part of the wall.

Between the buzz of being touched by Bruce and being unused to this kind of touch, Clark melts into a haphazard pile of Superman with embarrassing speed. Bruce manages to work his fingers up further, right into his top rib, and he punches a hole directly into the nightstand, sending the lamp toppling over. Bruce relents then, passively assessing the damage while Clark drags in a deep breath. 

“You really think it’s a good idea to tickle someone who could throw you into the sun?” Clark huffs, wobbling on a smile. Bruce smirks. 

“Never said it was a good idea. Just an alluring one.” 

“You find me alluring? Scandalous, Mr. Wayne.” Clark offers a teasing grin. Bruce’s brow crinkles with concern. He goes from fiddling with Clark’s waist to fiddling with his hands. 

Bruce gets tactile when he’s stressed. Or when something’s on his mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Clark asks softly. He scoots just a bit closer. 

“The day after the gala, I had Vicki write up a piece about you and I splitting. Like I promised. It was never published.” 

“I noticed,” Clark says carefully, tracking every detail of Bruce’s face. 

“I asked her not to.” 

“Why?”

“I knew if the article went live, you would stop with the affection and the dates. I know it was only for appearances, but…I really enjoyed it. I wasn’t ready to let it go. I…care about you.” Bruce looks up at him, worry entrenched in the dips of his face. It slips to something resigned and neutral, a blank mask. 

Clark smiles like a lunatic, covering his mouth to hide it. He contains the desperate urge to take a lap around the manor. Months, years, of pining bloom into sweet possibility within him. The weight of guilt sloughs off his shoulders. Bruce likes him. 

“Y’know, for the smartest man in Gotham, you miss quite a lot.” Clark leans in and waits. Bruce’s eyes flick to Clark’s lips, and in a Batman-esque flash of motion, he swoops down and kisses him. Their bodies slot together almost magnetically. Clark flips them over and bears back down, swallowing Bruce’s gasp of surprise in his mouth. 

In an insane way, kissing Bruce is like coming home. 

He flings his arms around Clark’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer. Clark immediately, greedily, lets his lips travel along Bruce’s pulse point. He chases the memory of the gala, littering desperate bruises along the cologne-tinged skin. His hand lingers at the base of his throat, brushing reverent fingers as he marks every inch available to him. 

Bruce yelps into a giggle, breaking them apart. Clark blinks, processing, then grins with unbridled power. 

“This feels…counter-productive.” Bruce swallows, bobbing Clark’s hand. His skin is hot and red to the touch. 

“Nice try. You already enabled me—that was your first mistake.” Clark tickles him everywhere he can reach, dodging elbows and headbutts. Bruce cackles from his core, stumbling through a few high-pitched syllables of protest as he twists. He works so hard to force his voice back into its usual octave that it cracks. Clark snickers. 

“I am going to kill you,” Bruce growls, reaching back to return the favor. Clark slams his arm down on the mattress, caressing the back of his hand with immovable fingertips. 

“Then this is a wonderful last night on Earth.” Clark nibbles on his earlobe. Bruce’s giggly scream and the ensuing threats on his life are music to Clark’s ears.

#my fics #ticklish!bruce wayne #ticklish!clark kent #bruce wayne #clark kent #superbat #dc #ALRIGHT the lois/selina thing came from somewhere ok bc i know its a teeny ship #tbh im not sure it even exists #but my lois is inspired by lena luthor from the cw supergirl series bc lesbianism + superman makes me happy #but i felt like if lois was into kara (which originally she was) clark would be working around the clock to get them together #which derailed the scene. so i put lois and selina together #wlw mlm solidarity clark and lois both being head over heels for their respective creatures of the night speaks to me #they're besties your honor #sorry this is not what i said i would post next but its what i finished off my pile so #also titles from better love by hozier bc that song is superbat to me

[crossedwiress]

passed out on the overpass, sunday best and broken glass

#ive been trying to find the right vibe in my head to suit this muke pic for a while now #and i finally figured it out the other night so #this basically came to me in a vision and i whacked it together haphazardly #hopefully the idea Hits #muke #moodboard #also i'd be lying if i said this wasn't partially inspired by molly's muke fic <3 interlude <3 #the pink-hair-michael + singer-luke + on-tour-together vibes of it all yknow #anyways #thanks for the vibe check eva ily #michael #luke #e*creations

[ingravinoveritas]

It has just been brought to my attention--and why I have never seen this mentioned anywhere else before now, I cannot possibly fathom--that David actually takes his shirt off during this production of Macbeth. Specifically, this moment:

As we know, Michael attended a performance of Macbeth in December, on press night. Which means Michael saw that moment happen. From the second row. And was likely staring at David without a shirt on. Which suddenly gives entirely new dimension to Michael and David making eye contact with each other at the end of the show:

Do I think this was the first time Michael saw David shirtless? No (especially not if we take them filming two seasons of GO together into account). Do I think Michael outwardly* displayed anything other than complete respect and admiration for David's artistry and performance? Also no. Do I think that there are potentially a massive number of implications for Michael and David looking at each other like that right after Michael has just seen David shirtless on stage? Fucking hell, I don't know how there could not be.

Because the idea of Michael staring at David shirtless in a theatre full of people--unabashedly, unreservedly--is somehow quiet and incredibly brazen at the same time. The very epitome of "saying a lot by saying very little," which is a tag I have used for both Michael and David on multiple occasions. And David looking right back at him conveys just as much meaning, as if to say he knows he has to bare his flesh to audiences night after night, but Michael is the only person in that room to whom he can bare his soul. The person David has been vulnerable with in a way he hasn't with anyone else.

It's truly remarkable to contemplate. To think that the biggest, loudest statement Michael and David could make was done without saying a word. And that we all had the chance to see it thanks to one beautiful, timeless photograph...

(*Note: This does not mean Michael wasn't making loud AWOOGA noises on the inside, because he totally was...) **UPDATE: I have just been made aware that David is not actually fully shirtless in the play, but has a vest on underneath the shirt seen in the above photo. Apologies for inadvertently spreading any misinformation. But at least we can be satisfied knowing Michael has likely seen David shirtless in other contexts...

#david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #macbeth #donmar warehouse #the fanfics this will inspire i stg #i have started writing a fic about them that night and this is the best inspiration #an entire theatre full of people and it's like they're the only ones there #also it's nice to know we don't even have to say Michael was undressing David with his eyes #because David was ACTUALLY undressed #let me live please #the fact that there keep being more things to discuss about this is slowly killing me #at this point the subtext might as well be a billboard #they are perfect together your honor #ineffable lovers #good omens rpf #discourse

[cloud-somersault]

(sits down opposite you in a booth at a ice cream parlor) i think a really important point of shadowpeach after reconciliation is the interweaving of all facets of their relationship and them struggling to meld those into some kind of cohesive "friendship" or whatever

and what I mean is that, like, there's always going to be some underlying resentment because wukong did a murder. so on Macaque's part, there's always going to be this anger and resentment and this hate that he has to deal with while also trying to piece their relationship into something that fits.

there's always going to be some guilt on wukong's part because he did a murder. there's going to be some guilt and an understanding that if Macaque, at any point, doesn't want to be friends, wukong understands why because of what happened between them. so he's saddened by the fact that things could end at any point and he doesn't have the right to try and fight for their relationship. i don't think that would stop him, but he'd be aware of it.

and then there's always going to be these echoes of their past haunting them. of what they were. because on some level, they're both still grieving that. they both miss that time in their lives, and that leads to anger, especially on macaque's part, because he lost something he coveted and treasured. and wukong also, because even if he killed macaque accidentally, he's allowed to miss that time also. because he wishes with all his heart that they can return to that past where none of the bad shit happened.

and then there's the threat of what they are now. broken and shattered people, jaded and knowledgeable of the world, they see these crumbled pieces and the feelings dwelling within themselves and look to each other and say, "Hey, can we really fix this? Can this really turn into something tangible and discernible?"

because the whole point -- (moves and sits beside you in the booth) the whole point is that they look at that scattered mess and decide yes, it's a broken mess that can become something worthy of being looked at. and though it's going to take time to put the pieces together and, in so doing, it's possible that we mishandle the pieces and they break further or the glue we're using doesn't work. and one of us may give up for a while, but we have to keep going.

the process of piecing their relationship together is difficult. they can cut themselves, hurt themselves or each other intentionally or unintentionally. it's a messy process. it's tricky and annoying and frustrating but, despite that, they both decide to keep working on it together.

and that's the reconciliation process. because we get to see that ugliness. it's not this pretty thing. it's not perfect and not everything it solved. it's only the beginning because, in reconciling, they both looked at that mess of pieces on the floor and then looked to each other and said, "Yeah, we can fix this."

but the thing also is -- this is wukong and macaque. and they're a little stupid. and they're prone to mistakes. so whatever they make at the end, whatever they piece together...

chances are it's not going to be beautiful at all.

#constellations fic #idk do you guys ever lie awake at night thinking about this kind of stuff #i think the inherent thought of “wukong and macaque will create something beautiful together” is fundamentally flawed #beauty is what they were in the past. and even then it was an imperfect lie. they didn't know each other. not truly #now that they're here #they get to see the ugly truths of themselves. and while looking at that #they can't help but make something fucked up. just like they are #but maybe. to them. that is beautiful #constellations shadowpeach