#He needs to be exposed to a crowd of people who don't give a shit about him methinks

[krussyarts]

they are WRESTLING get your mind out of the gutter, this is just a bit of wrestling between best enemies

[sexydoffyman]

day 27 - OBSESSIVE

König

navigation

genre: smut, yandere

mdni

a/n: I often forget that there are a few people who wait for me to post and I wanna apologise to these people. I don't know what got into me, but I hope that I'll be able to post everyday soon.

p.2

Everyone respects him, including you. He is a great fighter and his frame builds up fear in anyone who doesn't know him. He's a great soldier, but even the greatest soldiers have secrets. He has been trying his best to make sure his secret is never exposed.

What was his secret? It wasn't as much of a secret as a "weak spot". It sounds reasonable that a soldier would want to hide that, but his weak spot wasn't a part of the body or a fear.

It was you.

He would do anything to get you to himself. Of course, he was very aware that this might cause him problems later on. The soldier side of him was thinking about how unethical would it be to date a fellow team member. The human side of him was thinking that enemies could use you to get intel out of him. But he was thinking about how he wouldn't be able to get his eyes off you.

He was like a little boy watching his favourite dinosaur toy in the box, knowing he'd get punished if he played with it. He couldn't get his feelings into his work life. But holy shit, how hard was it for him to resist.

He knew he needed to fulfil some of his desires, or else he'd just be distracted all the time. He found a way to get you out of his mind. And even tho he knew it was rather unethical, he proceeded with his plan anyway.

You were in the canteen of the base, where you were ordered to stay until the next mission. Suddenly, you felt like someone was watching you. It would be pretty normal in such a crowded place. But you started to get that feeling everywhere.

Weirdly König started to look more focused during the missions. What a weird coincidence.

At this point, he has jerked off to you just doing some paperwork multiple times. Despite his size, he managed to hide very well. Then, a problem occurred. Just stalking you wasn't enough. He wanted and needed more.

He started watching you sleep. He started giving you little secret messages. He'd bring you snacks, still making sure you never figured out it was him.

He even managed to sneak into your closet. He watched you change. He watched you do your normal routine.

He watched you please yourself.

He was crazy for you. He still wanted more. He knew he needed to man up and tell you himself. Unfortunately, he was afraid of rejection. He just stuck to watching your every move. He wanted to make you his one day.

He was sweaty in your small wardrobe. He barely fit. His dick was in his hands. He was thinking about you on his dick instead of his hand. He wanted you to please yourself for him.

He wanted to touch you, but he made sure he stayed still. One wrong move, and he'd be exposed. He felt high with your body out for him to see like that. He wanted to please you himself once.

He wanted to see a ring on your finger in the future.

He needed to kiss you. He was holding himself back from getting out of the wardrobe. He wanted to get out and kiss you. He wanted to help you with his hands. He wanted to lick you up.

He wanted to touch your smooth skin. He wanted to pin you down to the bed. He wanted you laying tired in his arms after he fucked the absolute shit out of you. He was annoyed that he wasn't allowed to yet. He was impatient.

Sight wasn't enough anymore.

It didn't matter if you'd like him back or if he'd have to use force. He'd make sure you're his.

a/n: Honestly, I feel like this needs p2. Let me know if you're interested.

[thatorphansasha]

Wren fucking you in a fighting ring.

Maybe you just needed some cash. Maybe you were a looking for Robin again. Or maybe you even got sold here by your shit care taker.

You never thought you'd be spread in the center of a fighting ring like this. Fighting back weakly to fend off your own pleasure while Wren pumps his cock into you while pinning down your arms. The audience cheers wildly, some even fist their cock furiously at the lewd sight.

"Never thought I'd see you here naked of all places, PC" Wren readies up his fist as bets and jeers from the crowd fill the room. "Don't worry your pretty head, I'll be gentle with you."

-----------------------------------

Your hazy memories showed you the pub in Harvest Street, your state of dissociation reminding you of only bits and pieces. Landry looking concerned for you. A string of words, a secret password maybe. Fatigued, stressed, and traumatized but you still had to work and pay rent.

"I need the prize money, Wren."

"This isn't like Remy's, Sabre. You can't win here with just your sly little tricks." Wren dodges your punch. He grabs your fist with a vice grip then flips your arm over, his lips ghosting close to your ear. "If I let you win, these bastards will treat you like a show dog for the rest of your days."

As the match went on, you could see how much stronger he was. How his scars and muscles aren't for show. How he could have easily bent you over in that blackjack table if he wasn't so gracious and amused, drunk with your reckless requests.

His muscular arms snake at your neck, pulling, suffocating you. His other hand letting go of your arm to rest on your thigh. "... I'm not so heartless as to leave you empty handed though, for old time's sake." He dips his fingers into your crotch and draws circles on your clit. He fingers your pussy as he nibbles your ear.

"People in this fucked up town aren't here for just a beatdown. They're here for a show." He licks your ear then lets you go. You tumble in your weakened state, gasping for air. Wren pulls on your hair and the crowd goes wild as he gives you a sloppy full-mouthed kiss. He lifts you up then body slams you on the stage, his face on your breasts and his fingers at your crotch. You attempt to fight him off weakly but your breathlessness at being slammed and your pussy getting fingered is mushing up your brain.

"They'll pay you for this, you know. So you might as well enjoy it. You had no trouble making me cum in front of my friends for a lousy towel... think of this as something like that." The crowd starts to unzip their pants as Wren pulls back, only to align his cock at your entrance.

"I'm starting to think you may be an exhibitionist." He smirks at your shameful moan confirming his statement. He laughs "Well, will you look at that. You're already so wet. Wouldn't hurt to help you out now. ". He manhandles you back into standing in the edge of the ring. You hold onto the side post for dear life as your body is exposed to the crowd for all to see. The crowd gasp as Wren wraps his arm from behind you and lifts your leg with the other, his throbbing cock sinking into your pussy in clear view. He starts to thrust into you as the crowd watches with unrestrained lust.

"Yeah!! Show her who's boss!!"

"Holy shit, never thought I'd see THE Sabre like this."

"Goddamn, that's a great view of that rough fucking."

"The Angel dipped her feet a little too much in the Underworld. Just look at that beautiful body!!"

Wet sloppy sounds echo in the ring. Wren grunts as he fucks you then he bites your neck. Some hands try to grope your ankle in hopes of pulling you into the crowd and fucking you themselves. It only made Wren's hold on you tighter. Your breasts bounce and match your moans. His pace becomes faster and faster. One final thrust and he fills you up under the stage's spotlight. His semen overflows and drips down your leg.

As if on cue, the people in the crowd splashes the stage with their cum, spent with enjoying the display. "They'll pay you for this show. I promise you that." You could hear his breathing, ragged with the exertion, so you took a peek. His dirty blonde hair sticks on his forehead, the sweat pooling and dripping down his muscular neck.

He rewards your blissed out expression with a kiss as he slides out his cock. Your mixed juices pool on the stage, riling the crowd up yet again.

"Guess we gotta do a round two." You stare at the chuckling smuggler in disbelief. "... for the money, of course."

[femalegoloism]

oh no another opinion

im not really expecting anyone to read this but after thinking about it for so many days i just wanted to write everything down.

first off i want to start by saying that i believe caiti when she says she feels violated by what happened to her. her feelings are completely valid and it's disgusting that it came to a point where she gets to feel that way. but, with that said, i want to state a couple of things.

everyone in that room failed her. being 18 and exposed to grown adults and illegal drinking is a recipe for disaster. if you're bringing your 18 year old friend to a party with people considerably older than her and with alcohol involved i don't get why you would leave her unattended. or give her alcohol. or leave her alone in a room with strangers. and not only that, but refuse to take any blame for that and try to blame people that had no way of knowing (im talking about dream, in case that wasn't clear enough). you need to grow up and stop going live to talk about this as if it's your story to tell because by doing so you're digging yourself into a deeper hole and discrediting your friend's story because of all the inconsistencies. first you were too drunk to notice anything (even though you came with her and she's your best friend), but somehow still expected other people (who were also drunk and didn't even know her until that day) to notice how she was feeling. then you did notice, but decided to keep silent instead of defending your friend and taking care of her, even going as far as leaving her alone in that room when you noticed she was uncomfortable. you're a shit friend.

consent is a very tricky topic here, because i personally think different types of consent are cultural and depend on the type of crowd you're a part of in that specific moment. yes, verbal consent is very important, but to assume it always happens is delusional at best. maybe it's because i partake a lot in hookup culture (that is to say, i am not chronically online and leave my house and have normal human interactions in my day to day life). consent can be found in a lot of different things, like a hand to your shoulder, to a nod on your head, to a cuddle. it shouldn't be like that, but in mainstream culture that's just how things are. do i think that's okay? absolutely not. but just because i perceive it like that doesn't mean every single person does. my main issue with that in this specific situation is the power dynamics that play into it. if it were normal people i wouldn't really give it that importance but george being a really big and important creator really changes things. he holds some power over her, whether he realises that or not, and just because of that explicit consent should always be expected. now i don't think he's really aware of how this power dynamic works out for him (seeing as he spent most of his life stuck in his room, never really went out, got drunk or even interacted with other people apart from his close friend group until he moved to florida) and he's still navigating through it. i don't think he understands how someone may feel pressured to act fine around him or play into his games just because he is who he is. and now this brings me to my next topic.

george is not an assaulter. he's a dumbass boy who was drunk and needs to learn about boundaries and put himself in women's shoes for a minute to understand the shit we have to go through everyday. i don't think he did anything purposefully and wanted to take advantage of anyone. he touched a waist. that's it. i get that it can be uncomfortable for her and that he should've asked for explicit consent before doing that because he didn't knew her to just assume body language but that is not sexual assault. they were both drunk and he had no indication that what he was doing was bothering her. i can understand why he thought it was okay (laughing, smiling, getting up and sitting back next to him, deciding to stay even after her friends left) and i can also see how caiti could do this to avoid awkwardness. at the end of the day, it all was just a big misunderstanding. that's why you need to communicate when you're engaging with someone. you need to ask if they're feeling okay, but you also need to reassure that person that you're comfortable or like what's happening.

what really irked me about this is the rape rhetoric used by caiti in her statement. i don't want this to sound as victim blaming, because it's not, i just don't understand it. i've been thinking about this since i watched her stream and i need to get my thoughts down, so bear with me. when i first watched everything i thought he was touching her in private parts or straight up groping her, i even said so to my irl. i don't actually remember the actual words used, so forgive me if i say anything wrong, but i remember her saying things like feeling stuck in place and like she couldn't escape, feeling dirty months after it happened and not knowing how to make it stop. i don't know her or what she's been through to have such a strong reaction to what happened, but at the end of the day it was just your waist getting touched and you being uncomfortable. it's not okay. but you weren't raped, you weren't groped. telling things in a way that implies you were, i don't know if purposeful or not, is disgusting. by doing that you're diminishing the experiences of a lot of different people that have gone through so much worse things.

people projecting their trauma into this situation is why it became such a sensitive topic. your experience is not caiti's. don't pretend like you went through the same thing because you didn't. people think that just because they'd been SAd (i have been too! it's not important to the story though) they are more capable of forming opinions or treating this more critically are wrong. it's the opposite. you are not being rational about this and you are not being critical, you are being triggered and blowing things out of proportion. from the bottom of my heart, seek help, you need it.

ccs need to stop being so performative. as dream said, support victims because they deserve it, not because it's convenient. some of them are so scared to lose their platform they become so spineless it's actually scary. i'm not naming names, but i think that if someone reads this they'll know what i'm talking about.

this is a more direct "attack" (not attack, really, i just don't understand) but i'm still not going to name anyone. you can't say people need to stop being parasocial and just follow your lead in the same sentence. you're just saying stop being parasocial to these ccs but be parasocial to me instead and just do what i say because i actually know better. i don't understand why you're implying they're bad people and have always been when a week ago you were actively engaging with them and calling them your sibling. what am i supposed to take from that? why are you saying they're bad people now, when this came out, but were perfectly fine staying in their house weeks before this happened. if you know something, just say it. and i don't mean rumours, or things you've seen that are now taken out of context.

my final point, unless i came back to this later and have more to add, is that this could have been avoided if these people with platforms just learned how to communicate privately. dream asked months after that night if everything was fine, if something happened, and no one said anything. caiti continued talking to george (even if it was passive aggressive, or whatever she wants to call it) for months after it happened. isn't it better to just straight up telling him hey!! this happened!!! i didn't like it!!! or, if she wasn't ready to do it by then, just talk to him or one of his friends before going public with it. it's not a situation where he was made aware of the issue and continued being a cunt, he just had no idea of what was happening.

i wanna finish this by saying i don't hate them, i actually still like them (that can change as more information comes out). they need to grow as people and, for the love of god, go to therapy. but i don't think they're bad people or that this has to end their careers.

take care everyone

[prismatica-the-strange]

Bite Me | That Bitch Can Eat Her Heart Out

Warnings: 18+, Public (Semi-discrete) sex, toxic possessiveness, p in v, unprotected sex

Cori is already a somewhat jealous person, so when she sees Blaine flirting with Peyton at Human/Zombie Night she makes sure both of them know who he belongs to.

Word Count: 1.2k

Song: Love Bites (So Do I) by Halestorm

Human/Zombie night has been their busiest night since it was started. So Cori is surprised Blaine has time to stand around talking while she runs around, helping Don E behind the bar.

That's when she notices who he's talking to, acting mayor, little Miss Perfect. AKA Peyton Charles.

She knows that smile he's giving her, and she can see her blushing at it. Cori's blood boils at the sight of them casually flirting and her eyes go red.

"Uh oh," Don E snickers, "I know that look. Someone's gonna die."

Blaine looks back at what he was doing when she goes to join her friends, a pleased smirk on his lips and she seriously considers ripping his throat out.

She doesn't say a word, just sets the glass she was cleaning on the bar and walks toward him.

"I'll just tend the bar myself then?" Don E asks, but she ignores him.

She takes Blaine by the hand once he's in reach and he looks up at her.

"Hey, beautiful," He smiles, looking confused when she tugs his arm, "Something wrong?"

"Just come with me."

He does, weaving through the crowd to the other side of the club, just two booths away from where Liv, Peyton, and Ravi are.

She pushes him onto the leather cushion, into the corner, and moves to straddle his thighs.

"What're you doing, sweetheart?" He asks, lips stretching into a wide grin. His hands find her hips and he tilts his head back when she kisses him.

Her hands slide beneath the collar of his shirt, squeezing and scratching his chest and shoulders.

"Mmm, Cori," He hums against her lips, "Not that I'm not loving the attention, but what brought this-"

The words stick in his throat when she rolls her hips against his.

"Fu-fuck," He murmurs, feeling himself getting harder with every roll of her body against his, "Cori, baby."

He tries to stand, to lift her so he can bring her back to the office to fuck her, but she grips the back of the booth, keeping them there.

His eyebrows furrow when she pulls away and reaches between them.

"Cori!" His eyes go wide at the sound of his zipper being undone.

"Shhh," She leans down and starts kissing down his neck, "Lemme make you feel good, no one'll know."

He lets out a breathy laugh, hands catching her shirt when he runs them up her back.

"W-what's gotten into you?" He hisses when she palms him through his boxers, "Baby... hah- Cori. Hey, hey."

He pulls her hands away and leans back so he can look at her.

"What's going on?" He looks concerned.

She cups his face and kisses him again, "You're mine."

"Of course I am, sweetheart," He assures her, "Is that what this is about?"

"Need you to say it," She pouts against his lips.

"Cor, there's people around."

She notices the way he shifts beneath her, pressing his bulge against her leg.

"Need to hear you say it," She insists, "Blaine, please."

The needy whine in her voice is turning him on like crazy. He wants to make her cry his name in that voice and beg him for more.

"Oh honey," He coos, fingers running through her hair, "Lemme take you back to the office and we can- Shit! Cori!"

He throws his head back when she grinds down hard on him, breath catching when she drags her tongue up his exposed neck.

"You know, you're making it real h-hard to be a gentleman here."

"I don't remember asking you to be a gentleman," She says, "I only want one thing, and it isn't that."

She tugs his boxers down just enough to grip his hard cock, his eyes screwing shut at the slow pump of her fist.

"Say it and you can have me however you want me," She growls.

"H-huh?" He's already forgotten what they were talking about, lost in the feel of her.

"Blaine?"

He yanks her hips forward, fingers delving beneath her skirt. He lets out a pleased groan when he feels how soaked her panties are before pulling them aside.

He tries to hide the moan forcing its way from him against her neck as he slides into her.

"Fuck, baby," He kisses her skin and sighs, "You're gonna get us in trouble, sweetheart."

His head falls back when she starts to move, slowly rolling her hips, pussy fluttering around him.

She looks up at the group a few tables down, but Peyton is too involved in her conversation to notice her glare.

"Feel so good, Cor," Blaine brings her full attention back to him, the way his Adam's apple bounces when he says her name. She picks up the pace slightly and he keens, "Fuck baby, jus like that."

She tangles her fingers in his hair and pulls him up to look at her. His eyes are unfocused and she almost laughs when she realizes.

"Poor thing," She teases, "I've barely even started and he's already pussy drunk."

Something about her taking control turns him to mush, it always has, even before he was a zombie.

It's like when he's looking up at her like this, his adoration comes out in an unstoppable wave of words and touches.

His hands slide under her shirt, feeling her skin against his.

"Love you," He sighs as he presses his lips to her throat, "Need you."

"Tell me you're mine," She whimpers. She grips his shoulders, riding him harder, both of them moaning at the feeling, "Please, Blaine."

"I'm yours, Cori! I'm yours! I-I'm yours!" He whines. He presses his forehead to the base of her throat, mouth falling open with a groan as he cums, "'M yours. 'm all yours. Jesus fuck, Coriander, I'm yours!"

"That's right, baby. All- ah!" She grips his hair tight, and he gasps for air when she clenches around him, her orgasm washing over her. She looks up to meet Peyton's shocked stare, a proud and blissed-out grin spreading across her face, "All mine."

He leans his head back when she lets go, chest heaving as he cranes his neck to see what she was looking at.

"Oh, come on!" He laughs through heavy breaths, "Is that it?"

Cori looks down at him, anger and insecurity flooding her veins.

"Honey," He holds her cheeks and pulls her into a warm kiss, "Sweetheart... Angel."

He smiles up at her, lovesick and amused.

"Are you jealous?" His teasing tone makes her want to cry, "Don't be. She's not the one with my dick in her, is she?"

He kisses her again, just as lovingly as before.

"And you shouldn't have to worry about her going after me again, not after that little show of marking your territory."

When he puts it like that it fills her with embarrassment and she curls in on herself to hide in his arms.

"Aw, no," He laughs, holding her close, "Don't be embarrassed! You're hot when you're possessive."

"Shut up!"

"Maybe I should flirt with more girls if that's what it takes to get you to take charge."

She sits back and hits his shoulder, "Don't you dare!"

He cups her cheek and runs his thumb against her skin.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I won't," He murmurs, kissing her softly, "I'm all yours."

[ultraericthered]

Anime Update V3 18

From Me To You - Sawako deciding to be more forthcoming about her crush on Kazehaya makes Kurumi finally drop the facade and let her true colors show, and Kayli Mills handled the moment of the shift so well that it's all the more disappointing to hear her revert back to the cutesy voice she was doing before. She really needed to start voicing Kurumi more like Gray and less like Emilia, but I blame the voice direction for this. Damn if she and Sawako still don't have terrific chemistry with each other, though. Even with Kurumi no longer pretending to be nice or on Sawako's side, Sawako just seems to like her too much to stay away, and the two of them just sit and watch baseball together. When Ryu, who's incidentally gone through a lot of practice just to get Sawako's full name memorized, catches a fly ball headed towards Sawako, Kurumi gets some new, devious ideas.

Hunter x Hunter - Fight with the Chimera Ants still in progress. Pouf was able to get the directions to Meruem from Pitou without the latter blowing the cover in front of Gon, Youpi managed to evolve further and bring his opponents down but has developed honor and mercy enough to spare them out of respect, and the long-anticipated fight between Netero and Meruem has finally begun, with Meruem expressing his newfound desire to take over the world of humans in order to remake it into a more just one where the "worthy" weak people are raised up and those who abuse their power are removed from society. He's come quite a long way as a king, and it's largely thanks to his bond with Komugi. But Netero is still here for a fight and to kill the Ant King once and for all, and he offers a tempting prize to claim from him - the revelation of Meruem's name to him!

SHUFFLE! - After much reflection on where he's gone wrong and how he and Kaede have not been very good for each other in years, Rin comes to the decision that it's best if he moves out of the house and finds somewhere else so that he and Kaede can become independent of each other. As you'd expect, Kaede doesn't take that well, but given that she'd earlier been in the mood to attempt sexual assault on Rin (yes, for real), it's understandable why Rin doesn't feel at home in such a great house anymore. Soon after Asa has been released from the hospital, Primula finds Kaede's gone missing from home. While wandering, Kaede meets Asa and they have a nice talk about their feelings for Rin, the ugly history Rin and Kaede share, and what's really been motivating Kaede in her caretaker lifestyle. Rin's now made the love he has for Asa known to Kaedea and to Asa herself, so in three more episodes, where do we have to go?

The Case Files of Lord El-Melloi II - Wrapped up the anime with the OVA set at Christmastime that has Waver de-aged through some magic photography shit that alters his self-perception and how he's percieved by others so that he's young again. The biggest takeaway from it is that Waver's original voice absolutely SUCKS when he's trying to sound funny or emotive. Give me back Lucien Dodge plz?

KonoSuba - Saw Part 2 of the Axis Church story. Just about done!

K-On! - After school festival antics and more of Mio grappling with her stage firght, Ritsu holds a mock concert introduction of the Light Music Club band members to calm Mio's nerves. She still has jitters when the real concert starts, she and Yui both manage to perform successfully...at least until at the very end, Mio trips over the guitar cable and accidentally exposes her panties to the crowd, which was just relentlessly mean but hey, it's actually gained her a fan club!

Eureka Seven - I was calling bullshit on Holland suriving getting seemingly blown up by Anemone and The-END, but I replayed the moment and technically, the part of the mech he was in didn't get blown up when it came apart. Renton, Eureka, and the three kids made it beyond the Great Wall and into the hidden Promised Land, which turns out to be an island on an abandoned Earth. Earlier, there was a talk between Dominic and Anemone that didn't end very well and set things up for a huge misunderstanding to come. But the thing that stood out most in what I watched was Dewey revealing his backstory to Anemone as they had their creepy ballroom dance, and along with it, his true ambitions came to light. Dewey curses the blood of his family line that he inherited, the very blood he spilt when he committed patricide while attempting the King's Ritual, because the ritual's failure and his family's resulting fall into poverty led him to viewing the "sacrificial king" role of his family to be a sham, and he hates the Scub Coral and the very planet itself for how it seemed to condemn him as unworthy, and he was always envious of his younger brother Holland for having been the preferred heir. What Dewey hopes to achieve is to "purge" the Novak blood from him and take vengeance upon the Coral-controlled planet by erradicating all natural life on it and remaking the entire planet, and all of human civilization w/ all humans, institutions, etc. along with it, into an everlasting extension of his legacy as the "true king" he'd become. He would do that even if it meant the Scub Coral reaching the Limit Of Questions and the resulting erradication of natural life decimating the entire planet and wiping out or poisoning humanity. It's neither hatred nor warped altruism that drives him the most, it's pride. And he even has the audacity to claim he's been "all on his own" since that fateful day even when we can see his brother was right there with him. The man's like a Benjamin Netanyahu with better publicity, and that makes him very dangerous. Someone get Anemone and all those kids in the Ageha Squad away from him! Anyone? Dominic?

Air - After Minagi and her mother are finally able to embrace each other as parent and child again, Michiru is invited to eat at Minagi's house with Yukito, Minagi, and her mother, and at first I thought that since Michiru was a manifested dream, only Minagi and Yukito were able to see her, but she apparently is visible and audible to anyone, and she's not even purely a dream - she actually came from the sky and has been helping Minagi's dreams in hopes of awakening a friend of her's from her own bad dreams she's plagued by. Having fulfilled her purpose, Michiru says her goodybes and vanishes with the fireworks that night. The next day sees Yukito return to Misuzu's house only to find her collapsed on the floor. What's happened!?

[amarantine-amirite]

Blue

I was an artist. I worked in an art store, though. We were considered 'specialists', educating people on oils, acrylics, mediums, and clay. Sometimes, we sold finger paints and plasticine.

I was in a long-term relationship with the love of my life. I never took him for granted and I thought we were going to go all the way. I was wrong.

In January 2018, he suddenly dumped me via text message that said "I got the 7-year itch - it's over, Jane." By this point, I hope his seven-year itch has turned into some form of STD.

It wasn't my fault the relationship fell apart. He didn't understand that working retail in a wealthy area exposes you to a special kind of contempt. Rich people don't just consider you beneath them in a service role but as a human. Even dogs are a little grateful when you pick up their shit.

The store paid us less than the local supermarket. I worked a tough job serving awful people for terrible money.

I missed my friend's wedding and a family Christmas because my job wouldn't give me the time off. I couldn't afford nights out or vacations with my boyfriend. Everything I had went on rent, food and my three-hour both-ways commute on perpetually filthy, overcrowded and late trains.

The rent and food were expenses I could tolerate, but the commute was eating me alive. My boyfriend was the one good thing in my life, but I wasn't the only good thing in his. He walked away, leaving me with filth and crowds.

I stopped showing up to work. If I did, it would be hours late. This went on for a couple of months. One day I told myself you have to go to work, but if it makes you feel better, don't take any shit.

the checkout line snaked around the back of the store. a customer wearing a Von Dutch hoodie came in looking for a fight. He took one look at the line, decided it was an affront to justice, and threw a tantrum that involved pushing over a display.

"Sir, you can't do that," I shouted from my spot at the cash.

The guy in the Von Dutch hoodie yelled back, "You can't tell me what to do, you're a woman."

I climbed over the counter and walked over to him. "And you're sexist," I said. I didn't put my hands on my hips and told him, "I'm serious, you need to get the fuck out of my store."

"No, I don't."

I got in his face. "Let me be clear, you cannot come into this store looking for trouble. I'm a human being and I don't deserve it."

He seemed surprised that he was going to get kicked out so he decided the rational thing to do was to fight me. He didn't listen to any of my repeated orders to back off. He pushed me to the ground.

I tried to get up. He pulled a rubber knife on me. I yanked the rubber knife out of his hand and chucked it into the crowd. It hit my manager on the head. He immediately shrank down after that.

I'd never gotten so mad at a stranger before, let alone a customer.

The supervisor pulled me away and dragged me into the manager's office. a phone call later, the Head Office fired me.

The job cost me my love, and the breakup cost me my job. This strained my friendship with my landlord, who evicted me later that week. Not because he isn't receiving rent, I'm making payments, but because he's tired of me being in the house all the time.

I applied for public housing but was refused. Nobody will rent to the unemployed, and nobody will hire the homeless.

I have since been couch surfing with some friends. I keep wondering where that rude customer is now, and if he noticed I'm gone. Sometimes I wonder if he regrets his actions. I hope he learned not to be rude to strangers because you have no idea what they're going through, and it may ricochet throughout their whole life.

Things changed in April. After countless applications and a stream of rejections, I finally got a job offer for a docent for an art gallery. They said they wanted to discuss my skills over coffee.

On the day of the interview, I went to the address provided in the email. It didn't lead to an art gallery. It led to somebody's apartment.

This woman with dreadlocks and three piercings on one eyebrow answered the door. The apartment smelled like a mix of dog and some herbs. She soon told me she had three dogs and liked yoga, meditation, and massage, which explained it all.

That should have been my first red flag. But no, it got worse.

We drank coffee while talking, and it tasted bad. It tasted like I was drinking manure-flavoured gasoline.

Then the woman massaged my hands. It caught me by surprise. "Don't worry," she said, "this will help you relax."

I stared out into the front courtyard the entire time. The feeling that everything was changing for the worse echoed in my mind.

I feel like this when I'm tired and hormonal, but now the feeling is so much stronger than that. this feels like this one's for real. Something terrible is about to happen. Something big, something that could kill me.

And I started to feel dizzy. My vision got blurry. I had trouble standing up.

The woman notices the discomfort on my face. "You don't seem well," she said with a calm demeanour, "Is everything okay?"

"I think I just need to wash my hands," I said as I struggled to find my footing, "Maybe I had an allergic reaction to the massage oil?"

She reassured me with a smile but should have been comforting but just felt suspicious. "No need to worry, sometimes people feel a bit dizzy after a hand massage," she said gesturing to her bedroom, "If you need to rest, my bed is right there. Take your time."

"OK", I nodded as I continued to the bathroom. I couldn't even see my own reflection, let alone text or call someone on my phone. I thought about the horrible coffee and the massage. There was no way that this was an interview for a docent job at an art museum.

I passed out on the bathroom floor. The last thing I heard was the woman saying, "I think we got her."

I woke up in a backyard somewhere. The lawn chairs just look sad rather than inviting. The yard backed into a cemetery

I woke up face-first on a playground slide. The bottom of the slide had a torn plastic bag, a plate of nine chunks of rotten meat with pennies in it, and a blood-red candle with a blue flame.

The wind picked up. The candle went out. I slid down the slide and I knocked the bag and the rotten meat onto the ground with my forehead.

As I looked up, I heard footsteps moving towards me. Then somebody shouted, "Die!"

I recognized the voice: it was the guy who barged into the art store itching to pick a fight with the cashier. I don't think he learned his lesson.

I stood up and ran away from the slide. I started running towards the road. I thought I got away but I heard, "I'm waiting"

I knew what that meant. They were waiting for me to get too tired to keep running, to stop and pee. I had to keep moving at any cost.

I booked it towards the woods. I could still hear them. "Come back here," they shouted.

I didn't. I kept moving until I tripped on a root and tumbled down a hill. everything went black after that.

I woke up at home. I don't know how I got here, but I'm lucky I'm back. I never expected my blow-up to bite me in the ass the way it did.

@rosewritingprompts

[cherrycheridarling]

tic-tac-toe | mcu

marvel cast x actress!reader

warnings: one swear, fluff, no plot

summary: you play aphrodite in the MCU and it's time for the press conference for infinity war. based off of this press conference

wc: 2.7k

"Tom Hiddleston!" Jeff Goldblum introduced the man who was sitting on your right.

Everyone applauded before Jeff moved onto you, "Y/N Y/L/N!" more applause rang through the room.

"Sebastian Stan!" you looked to your left where Sebastian waved to the crowd as you clapped with everyone else.

"Anthony Mackie!"

After Jeff finished with the introductions, he explained how the panel would work. He would pull a ping pong ball out of a container and it would either have a name or category. The audience would be able to ask a question to that person or a person in that category after Jeff called on them.

As he pulled RDJ's name out of the container, Tom leaned over towards you.

"Does your water taste funny, too?" he whispered making you stifle a laugh.

You nodded, "Kind of like lemon, right?"

He shook his head, "Mine tastes like mint. Can I taste yours?" he held his hand out as you passed him your water bottle. He took a sip and spent a moment analyzing the taste, "Yours does taste like lemon! Why does mine taste different? Here." he passed you his water.

You took a sip and were hit with a strong mint flavour, "Woah. I think they're trying to drug you." you joked making him laugh.

"As I am answering this question, Tom Hiddleston and Y/N Y/L/N are discussing the flavours of the water behind me." Robert exposed you and Tom to the audience making the room burst out into laughter.

"They have fancy water. Mint and lemon." Tom spoke into a mic drawing more laughs. "Sorry. Carry on!"

As Jeff pulled the next name, you adjusted your dress. A white, long sleeve, blazer dress with gold buttons down the middle, the dress ended mid-thigh. The v-neck cut showcased your subtle gold necklace. Black stiletto heels covered your feet.

You unconsciously began bouncing your leg up and down in a fast motion. Sebastian placed a hand on your thigh, stopping your movements, "You're gonna drill a hole through the floor, Y/L/N." he chuckled.

"Sorry." you laughed quietly.

Sebastian pulled out a notepad and pen, "You need a distraction. Tic-tac-toe?" he offered.

You smiled with a nod before making your move.

"You absolutely suck at this." you chuckled as you won the third game in a row.

Sebastian scoffed, "You can't suck at tic-tac-toe."

"And yet, you do." you smirked.

He rolled his eyes playfully before you continued playing.

After two more rounds, your attention was back on Jeff as he pulled a new ping pong ball. "Ooh! You can ask a God or Goddess." Jeff announced, "So, Tom Hiddleston, Chris Hemsworth or Y/N Y/L/N." he reminded the crowd, "Okay, yes, you!" he picked a woman in the front row.

"Hi, I'm Alexis with Forbes. My question is for Y/N." the room applauded as Jeff tossed the ping pong ball at you and you caught it with one hand.

"See, Robert! It's not that hard!" Jeff exclaimed making everyone laugh.

"Screw off, Goldblum! You chucked that shit at my head." Robert joked back. "Sorry, Alexis, go ahead."

"Um, I wanted to ask about Aphrodite's powers. We all know that she is the Goddess of Love and can seduce anyone with her beauty. We see in the trailer a small clip of her seducing men. How many people did you seduce in the film and were there any funny moments filming those scenes that you can share?"

Her question drew a mix of reactions from the cast. Some laughed, some furrowed their eyebrows and others were just confused. You took in the question before opening your mouth to reply, until you remembered that you weren't wearing a body mic. The cast laughed again before Sebastian passed you a mic.

"Sorry. Um, how many people did I seduce in the film? None." you stated drawing more laughs, "How many people did Aphrodite seduce? All of them." you chuckled, "I'm kidding. Although, I'm not sure what I can share because I don't know what's in the trailer." you confessed, "Kevin, Joe, Anthony, what's in the trailer?" you asked them making everyone laugh again.

Kevin picked up a mic, "I believe it's you seducing Spider-Man, Starlord, Drax and Iron Man."

You nodded, "I do have a funny moment that I'm sure Mister Holland will kill me for sharing, but it's too good to not tell." you smiled thinking of the memory.

Tom immediately grabbed a mic, "You wouldn't!" he exclaimed making the audience and cast laugh.

"I would," you retorted, "We were shooting that scene and, as you know, they have to act like they are falling in love with me. Like I'm putting them in a trance. Well, Tom took that a bit too seriously." you paused at the laughter that your sentence caused, "They're all on their knees in front of me, looking at me as if I'm their queen, because I am." you joked, "And then Anthony calls 'cut' and Dave, Chris and RDJ all get up and start chatting, but as I'm turning away, Tom doesn't move. Still on his knees, looking at me as if I hold the world in my hands." the room filled with amused laughs and chuckles as Tom covered his face with his hands.

"No, it was so bad because I just looked like a creep that couldn't stop staring at her!" Tom laughed at himself.

Robert grabbed a mic, "Very true. I was watching and it honestly had me convinced that Y/N had real powers."

"I have to say, I understand the kid's reaction. Y/N's costume for Aphrodite and the way they transform her only enhances how gorgeous she already is." Anthony Mackie spoke up causing the crowd to gush and clap, "I'm pretty sure we all had the same reaction when we first saw her while filming Civil War." he looked around as the cast nodded.

Scarlett picked up a mic, "Yeah. I remember her walking on set in this stunning white dress which made me extremely jealous," she confessed, "Because, one, it's so gorgeous and she looks absolutely amazing in it," the crowd and cast applauded again, "And two, it's made of the softest silk while my suit is leather and spandex!" everyone laughed at her comment.

Benedict picked up his mic, "Although, it wasn't Tom's first time seeing Y/N as Aphrodite. He was in Civil War and still could not contain himself." he teased making the audience and cast laugh again.

Robert spoke again, "Yeah, he did that during the filming of Civil War, too." the room hollered with laughs.

Tom's face was bright red, "I'm just a very committed actor. I really give all of myself to my work." his comment drew more laughs.

"That's why Sebastian despises Tom. It all started when Tom couldn't take his eyes off of Y/N." Chris Hemsworth added making everyone double over in laughter.

"I feel so loved," you held a hand to your heart as the room chuckled, "These are genuinely the best people in the world and I guess you could say I seduced one person during filming." you joked as the crowd continued to laugh, "Sorry, Tom. I'll buy you some juice, don't be mad." Anthony and Benedict laughed loudly. "Thank you for your question!" you thanked the lady as the cast clapped before Jeff picked out the next ping pong ball.

Next was Scarlett. You sat back and silently judged the man who asked about fashion. Scoffing with Sebastian at his question and laughing at Scarlett's sarcastic and witty responses.

Sebastian leaned over again, "I have to piss."

You stifled a laugh at his abrupt confession, "Go to the washroom, then." you nodded your head towards the exit.

"We're not allowed to leave." he frowned.

You chuckled and reached over, patting his thigh with your hand, "Don't piss yourself."

He rolled his eyes playfully before Jeff called out the next name.

"Anthony Mackie!"

"Hi, I'm Tiffany with Times Magazine. With such a star studded cast, do you find it difficult or any obstacles in developing your character with all theses amazing stories being told and struggling for screen time? Like, are there any obstacles or special difficulties or is it all just amazing?"

Before Anthony could answer, Joe Russo picked up his mic, "Are you asking Anthony Mackie if he has a hard time getting attention?" his comment caused the whole room to erupt in laughs.

Anthony nodded slowly as the laughter died down, "Touché, touché. Uh, well, Tiffany, a wise man once said that some men need an hour to make their presence felt and some need thirty seconds." there was an uproar of laughter and hollering at his comment as he dramatically dropped the mic on the table.

"Who are we asking next?" Jeff squinted at the ping pong ball, "Ooh! Back to the Goddess of Love herself, Y/N Y/L/N!" the room applauded for you as Jeff threw the ball to you.

Sebastian intercepted the toss and caught the ball himself with a smug smirk. You rolled your eyes, but smiled as Jeff picked a lady out of the dozens who had raised their hand.

"Hi, I'm Amy with Esquire and I wanted to ask about the relationship between Bucky and Aphrodite. We see in the previous films their awkward tension from their past history. They have a very special romance and their love story is a fan favourite in the Marvel fandom. What was it like building that bond and relationship on screen? And what do you think of the choice to match the two characters together, how did you react when you found out? Did the pairing of the two help build your bond off screen?"

Jeff spoke again, "I said 'one question', that was at least twenty." he teased the lady drawing laughs from the room.

You chuckled and nodded slowly as the laughter died down, "Excellent questions. Umm, I honestly really like the pairing of the two. I think it gives a great dynamic to both characters and reveals sides of them that we never would've seen without their relationship. It's a very 'good girl falling for the bad guy' trope. And if I'm being honest, I've always wanted that." you confessed causing the room to chuckle, "Their relationship is, without a doubt, one of the most complicated ones in the MCU, but I think that's what makes it so loved by the fans since there's not a dull moment between the two. It's nice to see Bucky have a sentimental side, in his own awkward way of course. And you get to see Aphrodite fall for someone who's not a God or a Titan." you turned to Sebastian, "What do you think?"

You offered him the mic, but he didn't take it, letting you hold it up for him, "Yeah, I agree. I never thought Bucky would have a love interest, if I'm being honest. But I'm glad he does because Aphrodite brings out the soft side in him and he brings out the fighter in her. They really balance each other out and Y/N portrays the character in such a unique way, it really brings a whole new fresh persona to Aphrodite and it's amazing having her as a partner on screen." the audience applauded at his words, "When I first found out about Bucky having her as his love interest—"

"—He called me screaming about how hyped he was." Anthony Mackie cut him off making the room laugh. "Anthony! Anthony! Bucky is gonna be with Aphrodite! That's gonna be sick!" Anthony mocked his voice as you were hunched over with laughter.

Sebastian nodded with a smile, "I did. Won't lie, I did. It's a really refreshing relationship and I'm glad that the fans love it as much as I love playing it. Back to you, you haven't talked about the development and our bond." he gave you a lopsided grin.

You chuckled, "I feel like I'm rambling, but yeah. Their development is definitely," you paused, trying to find the right words, "A development?" you settled on drawing more laughter. "Well, as I said, it's very complicated, but awkwardly adorable at times. Since Seb complimented me, I feel obligated to say something nice about him," you joked making them laugh again, "Kidding. He really does play Bucky with such passion and commitment, it's truly inspiring. And working with someone who loves what they do as much as Seb, it definitely motivates you tremendously and yeah. Um, I won't lie, I honestly was dreading working with Seb," you confessed drawing laughs and a gasp from Sebastian.

"Why?!" he exclaimed making you laugh.

You sighed, "Not because I think you're a bad person or anything, but you come off as very intimidating to people who don't know you very well. And I knew nothing about you before filming other than the films you'd already done, so you scared me." your confession caused everyone to laugh loudly.

Sebastian smirked jokingly, "I am extremely frightening. I understand." he shrugged.

You scoffed with a laugh, "I caught you sleeping with a stuffed turtle and whale noises playing." the room roared with laughter again, "That's when I knew you were a big softy."

Sebastian rolled his eyes playfully, "She's joking. I am the toughest man alive." he deepened his voice.

You shook your head with a chuckle, "Sure. Thank you for your questions." the room clapped for you as you set the mic down and relaxed back into your seat.

"Nailed it." Sebastian held a hand out for a high five and you chuckled before hitting your hand against his.

For the rest of the press conference, you sat back and listened to your friends answer questions. Laughed at jokes made and clapped when appropriate. Small tic-tac-toe games went on between you and Sebastian. Your attention was fully on your nails when Tom Hiddleston got called on.

"Hi, I'm Samantha with Daily Mail and I was wondering, since Loki is a very closed off and mysterious character, we never explore the aspect of him having a love interest. So, if you could choose anyone from the MCU for Loki to end up with, who would it be and why?"

You turned to look at Tom as he pondered on the question, crossing his arms and rubbing his chin, "Very good question. Umm, who would I choose for Loki? Let's see," he paused again and looked around the room until his eyes landed on you, "Ah, I'd steal Aphrodite from Bucky." he answered making the room laugh and Sebastian chuckled with a nod.

"Why Aphrodite?" Jeff asked.

Tom chuckled again, "Well, it's Aphrodite." he simply answered drawing more laughs, "They are so different yet similar in so many ways. Loki is never fully evil nor fully good, but I think Aphrodite has the best chance of turning him good. And who wouldn't want to end up with the Goddess of Love?"

The cast nodded understandingly before Chris Pratt grabbed a mic, "If you were to ask any person on this stage that same question, I guarantee the answer would be Aphrodite." the whole cast nodded.

"They're all trying to steal Sebastian's woman." Jeff teased.

Sebastian scoffed jokingly, "They're all jealous." he wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

You chuckled with a shake of your head before Robert spoke up, "Adding onto the conversation. Miss Y/L/N, who would you want Aphrodite to end up with?" his question drew excited reactions from the crowd.

You let out a bark of laughter before looking from Tom to Sebastian, "Hmm, excellent question, Mister Downey." you rubbed your chin, "Stop doing that, Holland." you chuckled as you saw Tom point at himself in the corner of your eye.

He raised his hands in surrender before Anthony Mackie spoke up, "Spidey is five years old, kid." everyone laughed at that.

"I'd have to stick with Bucky. He is her true love." you shrugged as the crowd cheered.

Sebastian smirked from beside you as the men of the cast faked disappointment.

As the panel came to a close, you looked around at the family you were surrounded by. Friends you love more than anything. Hundreds of memories with the most amazing people you'd ever met. Your home.

[undertale-outcode-imagines]

💘 - What do they find attractive about their partner(s)?

👗 - How comfortable would they be wearing a skirt or dress?

💝 - What gestures do they really appreciate? How do you get on their good side?

🧸 - Do they have any stuffed animals? If so, are they decorative or do they sleep with them?

[Bad sans gang - Nightmare Error Horror Killer and Dust.]

For this ask game!

~~~

Nightmare:

💘 He likes someone with the ability to hold a conversation. Although he doesn't mind quieter partners, he truly adores people who can just. Casually talk. It's soothing to him, he likes it.

👗Oh he would love to, he does it all the time. Gender and gender norms are basically a foreign concept to him. He knows a little, from Ivy and Cross, but really he just. Never learned that stuff and assumed it was a fairy tale thing. Also dresses are just elegant and pretty, and he likes going swish as he walks around.

💝 He appreciates gifts, and just. Heartfelt statements of any sort. He likes honesty and he likes shiny things. He's like a bird, but a gay octopus.

🧸 No. They get goopy, and he doesn't like the texture of them.

~~~

Error:

💘 It likes people with interesting looks and fashion taste. He doesn't mind if it's not particularly pretty, he just wants something that's eye-catching and fun, and not 'perfect'. It doesn't like the typical definition of 'perfect'.

👗Not very, it much prefers masculine clothing. He'd still wear a skirt if he wanted to, but if it did the skirt would have to be pretty long, and a dress cannot have a deep v-neck or exposed back.

💝Respecting his personal space and/or boundaries. People have done some weird shit under the guise of "fixing" him/his phobia before, and it has gained a great appreciation for those who don't.

🧸He loves plushies, puppets, and anything along those lines. His favourite is a hand-made plushie of Classic, but he also has ones of the gang and Blue that he likes a lot. He sleeps with them sometimes, but never the ones of people. He has this one in the shape of a chocolate bar that he sleeps with most nights.

~~~

Horror:

💘 Couldn't think of anything specific, he just finds everything attractive. He's a very loving guy.

👗 He'd be okay with it. He likes warmer/cozy clothes, but doesn't feel any discomfort in a dress. He'd likely not wear one unless requested to/given a dress to wear.

💝Food. Making food, giving him food to make, eating his food, staying out of his kitchen unless invited, etc.

🧸He doesn't have many, only one of two that were gifts from gang members, but he doesn't sleep with them, they just chill on his bedside table.

~~~

Killer:

💘 Looks in general. He leans a bit more towards liking women/fem-aligned people, but he pretty much just likes pretty people

👗They would wear a dress if it made him look hot. Or just if somebody asked him to.

💝 They like gifts! Especially if they're sharp things or gatorade!

🧸 They're ambivalent about plushies, he much prefers an un-crowded bed but if he's given a plush they'll probably sleep with it nonetheless.

~~~

Dust:

💘 He finds intelligence attractive, but doesn't really have opinions on what's physically attractive.

👗 Eh. He wouldn't complain, wouldn't really enjoy it either but he's got nothing much to lose.

💝 He likes somebody who's just relaxed and leaves him alone if he asks. That's how you get close to him, by staying far away. Don't worry, he sees the irony too.

🧸 He's meh on them. They're soft, they're cute. He doesn't plan on collecting them or anything, but they're fun to sleep with.

~~~

(Bonus) Cross:

💘 Kindness. Kindness and pretty eyes. Or just interesting eyes. He doesn't care.

👗He would not wear a dress if his life was on the line. He hates looking feminine, he hates being associated with femininity, he hates dresses and skirts with a passion. It's mostly a dysphoria thing, but it's also just hating loose and light clothing like dresses. He'll take a well-tailored suit any day.

💝 Being nice to him. The boy. He needs hugs. And compliments. Or both. Maybe therapy too. Just be nice to the him.

🧸Yes! He has all sorts of plushies! He really likes them, but he prefers leaving them on display over sleeping with them. Too soft/crowded of a bed annoys him, and then he can't sleep.

[rommahh]

Love On Tour…Actually

{Im sorry for how late this was. I went to the show Friday and honestly, it was the best day of my life. I had a little PCD which made me super unmotivated but I’m back. I love you all, R}

You woke up a little grumpy, you won’t lie. You didn’t like waking up alone especially on a show day. It made you uncomfortable to be left to your own devices without any structure or schedule. You understood that Harry was a busy man but it would’ve been nice to receive some text so you could plan your day accordingly.

Sitting on the couch in the lounge of your hotel room, you chowed down on leftover pasta while watching Netflix on your iPad. You had yet to receive a text from Harry even though you had texted him hours ago when you woke up. It was hard to tell if he was ignoring you out of anger or if he was simply just lost in track. Either way you felt dejected.

On the other hand, Harry hadn’t even noticed that he iced you. He was busy running around Nashville trying to get things ready for tonight’s show. He bought you a new dress and shoes, and got the ring fitted. It was hard to figure out your ring size but he end up measuring your finger when you were passed out asleep in bed last night. When you slept, you slept and he knew that would be the perfect time to measure your finger.

Harry was so busy that morning, that by the end of his errands he realized he didn’t even have time to go back to the hotel before rehearsals. He was sporting a small cough and his vocal chords felt overworked but that’s all apart of tour.

Pulling his phone out of his back pocket as he walked into the arena, he dialed your number quickly. He had people trying to talk to him but he paid them no mind.

“Oh? Would you look who’s here?” Harry’s head shot up to the sound of your voice. There you sat on his dressing room couch, arms crossed over one another as you glared at him. Your gaze burned through him and he could just tell he was in trouble.

“Hello lovie.” Harry rasped.

“Harry you sound like shit but here you are up and about running around. You should’ve slept in this morning.” Scolding as you stand up to walk in front of him. Harry could feel the anger radiate off of you but you hid it well. He melted into your hands that cupped his warm cheeks.

“I had a lot of errands to run and I didn’t want to wake you. Also it’s just a sore throat from singing and traveling- comes with being on tour.” He mumbles dropping his head into your neck. You caress the hairs on the back on his neck and massage the tense muscles.

“You’ve got to think about yourself more, Harry. You have a show to put on but you can’t put on your best show if you’re not at your best. I am not happy with you at all.” Even though your words were scolding him, you held him your arms in the most soothing way. That’s what Harry loved about you, you cared for him like no one else could (aside from his mom). You could tell him off with your harshest words but he’d always feel your love from miles away.

“You’re right love, sorry for not keeping in touch today.” You hum in acknowledgement. You both pulled away from each other when his driver walked in with Harry’s abundance of bags. “Thank you, sir.”

“What all did you buy?” You ask walking towards the bags. Harry’s arm shot out in front of you making you stop. You looked up at him in shock. “Fine be secretive.”

You huffed before making your way back to the couch. Harry rolled his eyes at you, making way to his shopping bags. Plucking the bag from Nordstrom he plopped it down on the table in front of you.

“I just didn’t want you snooping at some other stuff. I bought you this, for tonight.” He sat down beside you, thighs touching leaving no room between you two.

“Im not trying to be mean. Just a little peeved that you left this morning without telling me. You also have a cold and I wanna take care of you since you won’t do it.” A hand rubs his forehead luring his eyes shut.

“Sorry baby, I thank you for caring so much.” He whispers sleepily.

“Im always gonna care for my bubs.” Kissing him on the lips, your turn your attention to the bag. The small grey bag had light tissue paper covering the product within the bag. The tissue falls to the floor as you dig into the bag. A silky champagne dress, folded neatly to decrease wrinkles, sits in the bag. The dress was soft and you knew it was loose enough to give you the room to dance. Soft snores escaped the boy beside you- the exhaustion evident on his face.

You pull the dress out of the bag and walk over to where his outfit of the night hung. The dress was hung beside his to be steamed for later. Turning around, you smile at the sight of your curled up boyfriend. Your heart hurt knowing that in a few minutes he would have to go rehearse.

Harry sleepily went through rehearsals sitting in a chair the whole time. He knew his stage cues and performance, he only had one more thing to rehearse but it required for you to not be in the room. He gave one look to Jeff to signal him to get you out. Jeff made up some excuse saying that he needed help with some social media post for the show.

Before the show, there was a catered dinner from some local restaurant. Harry ate a light meal of fresh vegetables and a sweet iced tea which has grown on him having lived in the states for some years. You ate grilled chicken and fries enjoying the free food. The two of you ate alone in his dressing room- wanting a moment of piece before the crazy.

“How are you feeling?” You ask Harry. He shrugs, he was more nervous than anything but you wouldn’t understand why if he had told that to you. He felt floaty. Tonight would be a game changer, a step in a whole new direction. This is something he’s wanted to do for years now but it’s finally happening, and he’s scared.

"Im ok, a little tired but what else is new. I can't wait to sleep all night and cuddle with you." He grabs your hand from across the table. you squeeze it, frowning at his revelation.

"I don't like that you're so tired." You worry, his hand squeezes yours in reassurance.

“Im ok, it’s all apart if the job.” He looks down to your bare ring finger, thumb brushing over the empty spot. Your nails were done in your favorite way, some funky pattern you found from Pinterest all painted on short coffin nails.

“I love you Harry and I’m so proud of you. I know that these years put us both in a bad place mentally but I’m happy of where we are now.” Harry could almost tear up to your words. They settled into his mind, resonating. He was making the perfect decision and you solidified that ideal.

2014

Harry didn’t know how they did it. A show every night, a new state everyday, a new country every few months- he was burnt out. He was tired of shared tour buses and the lack of autonomy. Last nights LA show was amazing, the crowd was amazing, the energy was amazing- so why did he feel so horrid?

He walked around in The Grove, security guards walking in front and behind him. He wanted a peaceful day alone but here they were. Fans watched suspiciously trying to decipher if it was Harry or not. His hat and sunglasses were obviously not the disguise he thought they would be.

As the whispers got louder, his heart started to flurry more. Panic seeped into his veins as he looked for an escape. Bolting in the Barnes and Nobles- security guards close behind- Harry asked for the employees to close shop just for a moment. Harry only needed a moment to get a car near by to escape to. Feeling overwhelmed, Harry hid.

In between the historical fiction and romance aisle is where he sat. Head between his knees, trying to catch his breathe.

“Are you ok?” A voice asked from above him. His head whipped up in shock. Standing there was you, three books clutched between your arms. Adjusting your dress you dropped down to the floor in front of him.

“I-im fine, tired but fine.” He replied. He looked different than he did the night before, you thought. Last night, he was energetic and full of life and now, now you saw a boy whose exhaustion overpowered him.

“You here for any books?” You were just trying to change the subject, something you did with yourself when you had panic attacks.

“Oh no, I don’t-“ he stuttered shaking his head. You smiled at him before pulling a book from your stack. The fault In Our Stars, your new favorite.

“I love this book, one of my favorites. Heard a movie is coming out too so that’s fun.” You joke. Harry’s relaxed slightly, you nestled closer to him. Opening the book, you began reading, your gentle voice calming Harry.

At the start of chapter four, an interruption pulled you both away. Harry’s security guard told Harry that a car was waiting and the perimeter of the store was clear. Harry nodded telling the guard to give him five more minutes.

“I guess this is it.” You mumble closing your book. Harry nods but makes no move to leave. Something clicks in him as he looks at your face again.

“You were at the concert last night, meet and greet?” He muses.

“Yeah, One Direction is my favorite band. My friend bought our vip tickets for my birthday. Best night ever.” You say quietly, scared that he might think that you’re some obsessed fan.

“Oh, well I’m glad you enjoyed the show….so why didn’t you freak out today or- or expose where I was?”

“You’re a human being, just like me. You get nervous, frustrated, and sad just like me. You get panic attacks just like. Who am I to treat you differently?” Your words did so much for Harry. “Now don’t get me wrong, you’re my favorite in the band, but I don’t idolize you nor do I wish to be in your position cause I know it must be hard.”

“It is. Hard, I mean, really really hard. I love my job but I’m tired.” The silence you two shared burned a connection between you two. “This may be weird but could I have your number? I like talking to you and I wanna hear more of this book.”

Placing your hand made bookmark in the book, you closed in and gently placed it on Harry’s lap. “Have it. I have one at home and if you still want to talk about it- I’ll give you my number.”

Harry stills as the book sits in his lap. “I want to talk to you about the book.”

After exchanging numbers, Harry was urged by you to go. Walking side by side to the door, you were separated by his security.

“Harry, don’t let this keep hurting you. Find the joy and grasp on to it.”

You turned out to be his joy. Calls every night after shows and different books being read together, you both gravitated towards each other. Everyday was a new day to grow closer together. He invited you to more concerts, paying for every ticket because he just needed to be with you.

The show was going beautifully. Harry looked amazing in stage in all white and most fans were captivated by your outfit too. It worried you to see Harry so exhausted on stage but you knew he would stick it through like he always does. Proud was an understatement in your eyes. Harry made you more than proud.

You stood in the back of the watermelon pit at the end of the aisle where his stage stopped a few feet away. Jeff stood beside you like he normally did but he was acting suspicious. You two never stood on the side of Harry’s exit but this is where Jeff said you’d get the best view tonight.

Harry sang his final ‘we’ll be alright’ before doing his stage stroll and bows, but instead of finishing in the middle of the stage- he went down stage to the place he normally exits to at the end of the night. You watched in confusion, along with the crowd, as he walked down the steps to you. The crowd erupted in screams as the lights focused on where you were standing.

“What are you doing?” You asked with large eyes of shock. You felt your heart stop in your chest. The crowd getting louder by the moment. Harry walked closer to you, one hand digging into his pocket while his eyes focused on your face. You couldn’t place what was happening but you’re eyes welled with even more tears nonetheless. Jeff was to the side with a huge smile and his phone out to capture the moment.

“Y/N, my love, my light, the best thing that has happened to me,” he didn’t have his mic on so the crowd couldn’t hear him but you could hear him perfectly. As if you two were the only ones in the large arena, you could only see Harry. “From the moment I met you in the bookstore, I knew you were meant to be in my life. Somehow you took me from my darkest place and guided me to my lightest.

I know our lives have been hard but we’ve always found a way to be alright. I want that for the rest of my life. I want you to be by my side for the rest of my life, so will you please, my love, marry me?”

You gave him no time to answer as you yanked him up by his arm. You wept as you exclaimed loud yeses, yeses that could be heard by a few fans who screamed in excitement igniting the rest of the crowd to scream. Harry picked you up in his arms, throwing one arm out to wave at the crowd before bounding backstage.

“Oh my god Harry!” You exclaimed as he set you down. He only had a few minutes to talk so you kept it quick. You pulled his face down to your kissing his lips. This kiss pulled you both deeper into each other.

He pulled away making you whine. “I gotta go back but I promise you’ll get it all tonight. I can’t believe you said yes. I love you so much.”

Harry’s energy multiplied by 100 going back on stage. He even went as far as to explain what watermelon sugar was about. Remembering when the song was made, it made your legs clench together- a pulse overwhelming your lower regions.

Looking down at your hand, you could feel yourself tear up again at the ring he bought you. It fit perfectly in your hand, you remember him measuring your hand that night even though he thought you were asleep. The thought of your future made your heart swell. A future with new music, a wedding, a nice house, and babies made your heart swell. This was something you couldn’t wait for.

Harry found his joy in you but he never knew about the joy he was to your dark life.

[theringers]

quiet - lando norris

request: On your prompt list can I have 64 and 4 with Lando please? Lol thank you :)

prompt: 4) “You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.” 64) “I never knew someone could cum that fast just from a few fingers.”

if this is your gif and you want me to take it down, please let me know.

warnings: 18+ NSFW, fingering, dirty talk, semi public sex

The club was loud and the energy was high. It was only a few hours after your boyfriend Lando had gotten podium at the Austrian Grand Prix and you were so proud of him.

You two decided to go out and celebrate the win in style. The speakers were booming and you could feel the vibrations inside your body. You looked around the room at all of the people here, wondering what they were here to celebrate.

It sure wasn't as good as what you were here to celebrate. A woman walked over to your booth carrying a large bottle of Tito's vodka with a sparkler on top. One added bonus of having a boyfriend like Lando: bottle service at the clubs.

The woman dropped the bottle on the table along with a few shot glasses. She smiled and walked away. You immediately reached for the bottle and poured two hefty shots for the two of you.

Lando's friends had made their way to the dance floor so they could gather their shots after. Picking up the glasses, you smiled at your curly-haired boyfriend. "Congratulations, I'm so proud of you," you said.

You handed him the second shot glass and clinked your glass with his. "Cheers," he said, downing the burning liquid into his throat. You did the same, feeling that all too familiar, yet comforting, burn.

You put the shot glass back down on the table and scooted closer to him in the booth. You crossed one leg over the other towards him, exposing more leg than your tight black dress already did. His hand draped over your knee and upper thigh and you looked up at him and smiled.

He smiled back. "You look amazing tonight," he said.

You could feel your cheeks burn from the compliment. Or was it the straight vodka hitting you already? Not like that shot you just took was your first, anyway.

"Thank you," you replied. His hand began to inch up your leg, getting closer and close to the hem of your dress.

You leaned in closer to him to whisper something in his ear.

"Lando fucking Norris!" A loud voice came from the entrance of the booth, interrupting you.

His eyes lit up and he jumped to his feet. "No way, what are you guys doing here? Come join us!"

It wasn't unusual for Lando to run into people he knew in clubs like this, especially when he traveled the world for his work. The booth suddenly got crowded, maybe a little too crowded for your liking. You were squeezed between Lando and one of his friends, acquaintances, someone he knew, you weren't too sure.

You went from having his hands trace shapes on your skin to now being between two random pairs of jeans. "I need to use the restroom," you said, excusing yourself.

You stood up and headed towards the restroom, passing the bar on the way. You did a double-take and decided to stop at the bar. "I'll take a shot of vodka," you said, sounding defeated. "And, you can put it on that guy's tab over there." She pointed to the booth now filled with people and chuckled.

The bartender nodded. As soon as the shot was in front of you, you picked it up and downed it. "Thanks," you nodded and headed to the bathroom, throat still burning from the second shot you had taken in a short amount of time.

As you were opening the bathroom door, you felt a hand grab your waist. "Where do you think you're going?" Your boyfriend whispered in your ear.

You smirked at the door, your boyfriend not even seeing your expression, and rolled your eyes. "Just taking a break. I was looking forward to a night with you is all."

His hand still on your waist, he spun you around. "I'll send them all home if I have to." He had a devilish grin on his face.

"No need," you said, sounding a bit annoyed. You wanted to spend time celebrating your boyfriend and showing him as much appreciation as he deserves. You placed your hand on the swinging bathroom door getting ready to push it open.

"Come on baby, don't do this." He began to slur his words, but not too much. Just enough that indicated he had plenty to drink. "You look so god damn sexy tonight, I want to spend the night with you." His eyes looked you up and down and you swore you could see him drool.

His eyes lingered at your cleavage just a little too long before coming back up to meet your eyes. His hand traveled from your waist down to your ass, giving it a light squeeze. "You know I can't resist you in this dress."

Memories from a few months ago began to flood your mind. You had worn this same dress out to a friend's birthday party and all Lando could talk about before you left the house was you coming back. He wouldn't shut up about wanting to undress you right then and there, and he was insanely jealous of anyone else who got to see you in that dress.

"I know you can't," you nodded in agreement. "That's why I wore it." You flashed him a cheeky smile.

He acted on impulse and pushed the bathroom door open, nudging you inside. "You know, after all these years, you still drive me crazy." He pushed you against the inside of the door and roughly planted his lips on yours.

He tasted like need and alcohol, which usually ended in a great night for both of you. His lips were rough and he moved in sloppy motions, but you weren't complaining. His hand was firmly placed on your jaw while the other began to grope your breasts.

You stopped for a moment and looked up at him with devilish eyes. He immediately grabbed your bum in his hands and lifted you into his arms, setting you down on the sink. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he began to grind into your core, moaning between kisses. "Fuck," he said, lifting his mouth off of yours and placing it on your neck. He roughly kissed all over your neck and collarbones. One hand held your head to the side while the other gripped your thigh.

His fingers began to push the hemline of the dress further and further up your legs. "I need you right now," you said into his ear.

His hand stayed firm on your upper thigh but his long fingers began to graze the front of your lace thong ever so slightly. "Shit," you muttered, followed by a few soft moans. "Don't tease me like this."

He let out a small laugh against your skin but continued kissing. The pad of his thumb pressed against you with more pressure now, but still not enough. "God damnit, Lando," you said.

"Someone's needy?" He joked. He removed his fingers, earning a groan of disappointment from you. He took two of his fingers in his mouth and licked them until they were wet enough.

He pushed your panties to the side and inserted two fingers inside of you. The sensation made your head spin. You spread your legs wider, earning a smile from him. "Oh god," you moaned, leaning back and using your arms as support. "Your fingers feel incredible."

He smirked at you. “You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.”

In your drunken stupor, you debated being honest with him. “What if the idea of being caught is turning me on right now?” You said it anyway.

“Jesus,” he said, closing his eyes so he could focus on the task at hand. He worked his fingers inside of you, curling them to find the most pleasant spot that made you cry out in pleasure. His other hand pushed the neck of your dress down, exposing your chest. He took one of your nipples and played with it between his fingers.

He could feel your walls tighten around his fingers and he saw your body visibly tense up. “I’m gonna-”

“I know,” he said, keeping his pace. “Cum for me, baby.”

His words sent you over the edge. “Shit,” was the only word you could manage to get out as your body began to slightly convulse under him.

He removed his fingers and licked your juices off of them before placing a kiss on your lips. You were able to taste yourself and you knew it turned him on. “I never knew someone could cum that fast from just a few fingers,” he said.

You giggled. “For you, anything is possible.” You hopped off of the sink and adjusted your dress.

You both gathered yourself in the mirror to make sure you were at least presentable to the rest of the club.

Lando opened the bathroom door only to find a line of annoyed drunk people staring at the two of you, fully aware of what you just got into.

[timextoxhajima]

Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [2]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: SMUT *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: 3.1k, half of which is definitely filth

taglist: @from-xero @taeyongandfree @ten-gift @louvyves @sweetutopia @yyyereum @jung-breadshop

{this is a work of fiction}

it's one of those days that you look at a person and wonder "how did i get into this mess?"

eric's got his back plastered to the lockers, leg perched and his heel hooked onto one of the padlocks as he talks to his friends. he glances about and catches your gaze, the innocent glimmer in his eyes suddenly replaced with a predatorial glare.

everytime he sees you, he sees an opportunity - an opportunity to ruin the only other heartbreaker in school.

which he's already done once.

the sight of him cues the chills down your spine; flashes from some nights before zipping through your head like a fast-forwarded video.

eric brushes his hair out of his eyes, exposing his forehead. with a tiny smirk and his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, he looks down at his phone.

as his fingers fly across the screen and he hits send, yours vibrates in your pocket.

eric son: one night not enough?

you look back up and see him send one more message before shoving it into his pocket.

another message dings across your screen.

eric son: all you have to do is ask, princess

you look up from your phone screen to see eric moving off in his group of friends, giving you one last wink at that before he turns around.

the warmth emitting from your phone heats up in your palm when you tighten your grip around it, frustrated with yourself and frustrated with how easily he's got you wrapped around his finger.

"whew!" a sharp sigh exclaims from behind you, and you immediately attempt to erase the agitation off your face. turning to face your new company, you slide your phone back into your pocket.

"where were you?"

yujeong huffs and rests her weight on her hips, stretching to a side while yawning. "dealing with some girls sobbing over jung wooseok graduating. what about you?"

"what do you mean 'what about me'?" you turn to frown at her, arms crossing over your chest. "I've been here the entire time waiting for you."

"you think i didn't know where you disappeared off to? at wooseok's party?"

your heart stops.

she begins walking, and you follow quietly.

"i know you went home without telling me."

oh.

your lips part to heave a sigh of relief, but you stop yourself and feign surprise instead. "oh!"

"'oh', she says," yujeong rolls her eyes. "you could've at least told me."

yes, because i'd want you to know that i rejected wooseok AND got ruined by eric sohn in the same night.

"sorry," you suck your lips in between your teeth and cling to her arm. "i wasn't feeling well."

"pity," yujeong sniffles. "someone found cum stains on the floor outside wooseok's garage. you should've seen it for yourself."

"huh," you blink, refusing to turn to her. "what were we expecting from wooseok's graduation party?"

"point taken," yujeong shrugs, and you slide off her to comb through your ponytail. "anyway, someone told me you finally got down to talking to eric last night at the party. how did that go?"

"um," the name triggers a fight-or-flight response in you, but you can't have yujeong see right through that.

"yeah, i mean... if you're the 'innocent heartbreaker' and he's the 'vicious' one, then that must've been one hell of a conversation!"

"huh!" with your brows raised, you look at her with wide, surprised eyes. "who the hell coined that?"

"i'on't know, like, everybody?" yujeong frowns, finally turning into the cafeteria. "besides, you never really liked him... nor spoken to him. so it must've been a surprise to anyone to see you talking to him."

the crowd in the cafeteria stirs to life as more people follow in behind you and yujeong, the lunch crowd beginning to create a ruckus in the enclosed space.

"we just... you know, bumped into each other."

"I've always wondered how you guys never bumped into each other before the party," yujeong yawns again, pulling you aside to a table and sitting the both of you down. "i didn't think your dance crew was so well separated."

"we deal with different genres," you sit and rest your forearms on the table. "no reason to mix our teams."

"anyway, i heard new leadership positions are out today so keep a lookout for that."

"oh?" you turn to her. "what about you? did you get anything in baseball?"

"no shit, sherlock. you're looking at the new captain."

"oh!" with a bright squeal, you stand and throw your arms around her. "I'm so proud of you!"

"don't be sappy," yujeong uses her finger to push your forehead away from her. "but thanks."

the stale air of the practice room guts you first, since you associate nothing else with this place except sweat tears and a couple of ankle twists.

the air conditioner whirs to life when you turn on the main control switch of the studio.

usually, you weren't the first one here and so you were more than surprised when you were. placing your bag down and fiddling with the sound system, you plug it into your phone turn up the jazz music since it's supposed to calm you down. the thought of the night before was far too aggressive and violent for you to stomach.

it's okay, you think. the rest will come soon and practise will ensue.

it's alright.

then the door clicks and you look up in the mirror to see eric in the reflection.

the thought zips through your neurons: something's wrong.

he shouldn't be here.

you look back down at your phone and feel your insides twitch at the sight of him. "this isn't your training slot."

"and you don't need to be here," eric smirks, drawing a frown across your face as you look up.

"what do you mean?"

eric smiles at you in the mirror, closing the door and locking it behind him.

now you finally turn around, watching as he strides to you with his hands in his back pockets.

"i cancelled practice."

"what do you mean you cancelled practice?"

"well," then he pauses just about a foot away from you, waves of uneasiness already flooding into your private space as you lean back against the countertop. "you're looking at the new captain."

you scoff, shaking your head in disapproval.

"so the first move you made after becoming captain was to cancel training? very mature of you," with a huff and a smirk of disbelief, you pull out your phone, the jazz music abruptly stopping as you reach down for your bag.

"aren't you gonna congratulate me?"

you glare at him through your lashes as you lift your bag, but he's looking at you with wide, puppy eyes instead.

"congratulations," the wry, insincere remark draws a smile across his face.

"where are you going?"

"home. where else?" you swing your bag over your shoulder and take a step around him.

but of course, he stops you by grabbing your arm and holding you back to the countertop where you were previously leaning on. you yank your arm out of his grip but he finds your waist and hoists you up onto the countertop, the cold surface brushing up your skirt.

goosebumps erupt all over your exposed rear, including the skin on your arms for him to see.

"dance practice is cancelled but that doesn't mean you can't stay and accompany me."

"wait-" the whimper hums through you when his hands find your rear under the material, cupping your flesh in his hot palms. dipping his lips into your jaw, he begins planting soft kisses, deliberately making each and every one of them audible by your ears.

huffing and panting out of frustration, you squirm under him, unable to move due to the pressure he's exerting on your hips.

"it's only the two of us, princess," he whispers into your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand and your lips pull apart in a wince. "and what are you doing... wearing a skirt to dance practice?"

his hands are everywhere.

he's running them up and down your calves and thighs and gently pulling them further and further apart so he can slot himself between your knees.

on top of that, you were staring at your reflections in the mirror across the studio.

"i have an extra pair of leggings in my bag, for gods' sake."

eric chuckles devilishly, reeling backwards to look you in the eye.

"and what were you waiting for before you'd change into them?"

"for training to start?"

eric blinks, running his fingers through his hair again. resting his hands on the countertop's edge by your thighs, he leans in closer to you, eyes slightly hooded and searching yours as if looking for something.

"i heard you rejected wooseok."

the name drives a puncture through a lung, and the guilt surges through you again when you remember whose house it was that you let eric ruin you outside.

"that's none of your business."

a sly smirk stretches his lips apart, and he lifts his finger to pick at the buttons on your shirt. annoyance brings your hand up to his mischief and you grab his hand, holding it in place as you attempt to close your legs.

but he grabs your wrist with his free hand and pries it off his own, taking both your hands and sliding them over the rim of his joggers.

"for someone who's been dubbed the 'innocent heartbreaker', you're kind of feisty."

then he uses your fingers like puppets and pulls apart the drawstrings, loosening the material's hold around his pelvis.

"you wanna know what i think?"

"no."

"i think..." eric throws your arms over his shoulders and pulls you in closer, chest pressed against his with his lips brushing across the arch of your ear. "this 'innocent heartbreaker' image of yours? fake."

he pulls away, a disgustingly innocent smile wide across his face. it makes his eyes shine, and he's got an arrogant glimmer in his pupils as he reaches for your right knee, trailing a single finger up to your inner thigh.

"i think you use it to bait people into thinking that you're just a cute, pretty little girl..."

and he stops and harshly grips your thighs to yank you forward, just enough for most of your butt to remain on the countertop but your crotch to be over the edge.

"but in reality, you're just itching for someone to put you in your place."

he hears the gulp that's forced down your throat, and his hands come up to your jaw to hold your face still.

"isn't that right, princess?"

your mouth is dry.

your lips are dry.

and you open your mouth in a bid to hurl a string of vulgarities at him for coming at your title all too daringly, only for him to drop his hand to your throat and shove his lips between yours.

the pressure around your neck forces a groan up your throat, hands flying up to his shoulders to push him away (it was an attempt).

he releases your neck, lowering his hands to fiddle with your shirt's buttons while he attaches his lips to your jaw. using his nose to tilt your head to the side, you hear him take in your scent with a prolonged inhale.

eyes stuck to the ceiling lights, you're unsure whether the lights were blinding you, or you were just seeing stars.

the cool air finally kisses and blankets your chest when the top few buttons come undone, and before you can respond to the shivers that run through your body, eric's hands slide in between your thighs again.

the sudden, sensitive contact jolts your entire body, so eric anchors you down by grabbing your neck again.

"I'm sure you don't want the school to know that the 'innocent heartbreaker' isn't so innocent now, do you?"

he scoffs at the gulp he can feel in his grip and raises both brows when he pushes your underwear off your core. your pride flushes away when he finds nothing short of what he expected.

"oh, my," his tongue flies out and darts over his canine teeth, eyes locked onto yours as he presses his thumb onto your swollen need. "oh, princess... just ask."

your thighs are aching to close, but his hips are keeping them apart.

your hands are clawing into his arm, but it seems to be fuelling his pride even more.

he leans into you again, placing careful kisses along your collar bone and your jaw whilst resting his palms flat against the countertop.

"i'll give you the chance to watch yourself, hmm?"

and with that he trails his kisses down into your chest, hands sliding from the countertop and onto your thighs to hold them apart.

riling up the cotton of your skirt, his breath hits your core first, then the uneven texture of his tongue brushes across you.

he presses a kiss to your sensitivity first, then plunges his tongue into you. a sharp groan thrums through you, shivers drawing up your spine like sinful whispers.

his hair comes tangled between your fingers, thighs hung over his shoulders as eric moans and hums into you, the vibrations driving you over some edge you had forgotten even existed.

your hips buckle and jerk when he begins flicking his tongue against you, and your blurred vision lands on your reflection in the mirror.

eric son kneeling under you, with his head between your legs.

very quickly, your attention is torn away from the reflection and back down at him when he slides two fingers into you. focusing his tongue on your nub now, he begins pumping his fingers with ease and with a smirk plastered across his face.

you don't realise the mewls and whimpers you're giving him until he breaks off from your under, standing back up and pressing his lips to yours with his fingers still playing with you.

then he pulls away, and removes his fingers, bringing them up between your noses and flips his hand, allowing your neediness to glisten under the lighting.

"enjoying this, aren't you?" and with that smile on his face, he slides his fingers into his mouth, whirling his tongue all over his skin.

the lewd sight makes you cringe and writhe before him, so eric picks you up by your rear and walks the both of you to the mirror, turning you around to face yourself in the reflection.

oh.

no.

"wait-"

"'wait'?" eric bites on his bottom lip, taking your right hand and pressing them into the mirror. "oh, princess... i can wait all day, but can you?"

the question tears through you in waves, your head turning back to the mirror and your eyes watching the fog coat around your fingers in the mirror.

his fingers are interlaced with yours, his palm over yours as he pulls his joggers off with his free hand. smirking and looking up at you, he stops to push your underwear off your core, then slides himself between your folds instead of into you.

the frustration builds up, erupting through your throat in the form of a groan mixed with a mewl, earning a sadistic chuckle from him.

he pulls your left wrist down to your lower back, keeping the other plastered to the mirror as he gently and slowly, teases you, sliding over you.

your heart and stomach are plunging with every slide he gives you, the throbbing down below driving you absolutely nuts.

it's making you tear up, and you cry out in agony as your fist clenches over your lower back.

he leans forward, careful to keep his lips in contact with your lobe as he whispers the words,

"your body's mine, princess."

and with a subtle lean-back, and one swift push, he bottoms out, burying himself entirely inside you.

your chest puffs as you suck in the harshest breath in your life, and your entire body shivers upon the fill.

"look at yourself," his husky voice is low and dangerous in your ear. you swallow your saliva, walls clenching around him as your legs begin to tremble.

he slides out, and pushes back in slowly, careful to make you live through every second and every inch of him as he does it.

'it' meaning drilling the sinful bliss through you.

so he picks up his pace every time he bottoms out, ensuring that your legs wouldn't give out under you.

but soon, the lewd noises of slapping and muffled moaning drowns out your thoughts, your eyes now tearing as you look down at the wooden flooring. multiple whimpers and mewls try to escape your throat but you suck your lips in between your teeth, every thrust jerking you forward.

"good girl," eric reminds you, taking the hand that was previously plastered to the mirror and gathering both your wrists on your lower back.

it forces you to straighten up, back arched away from his chest as he holds you close to the mirror, the bottom half of your ponytail messy over your unbuttoned top.

in the mirror, your skirt was blocking the view where he was fucking all senses out from you.

it was the messy, whored-out look on your face; the marks on your collarbone and the bouncing of your hair with your arms held behind you that made your knees weak.

eric leans over into your neck, locking eyes with you through the reflection as he kisses your jaw.

by some miracle, his hip buckles at an angle, and something explodes inside you. his free arm circles your waist in a bid to keep you upright atop your knees failing you, thighs flexing and trembling against his.

your body nearly goes limp under his hold, and he pulls out just in time to release on the flesh of your rear.

he huffs, sighing and blinking away his own climax. eric releases your wrists and pulls your underwear over your soreness now, still holding onto your waist to keep you from falling over.

eric smiles at you in the mirror when he catches your tired gaze, brushing the little strands of hair out of your eyes.

his palm runs from your waist and up your chest, gently pushing your head back onto his shoulder. nose delving into your jaw again, he side-eyes you in the mirror, pressing his lips onto your neck.

"wear your hair up more often, you look more..."

"fuckable."

he takes your jaw and turns it to face him now, eyes glued to yours as he scans your face.

"oh, by the way... congratulations on becoming vice-captain."

[love-amihan]

| ʜᴏᴍᴇ | ᴊᴊᴋ | ᴀᴏᴛ | ʜǫ | ꜰɪʟᴏ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛs | ᴍɪᴍɪ |

CRUSH // INUMAKI TOGE

amihan's note: oh god this is so embarrassing, some of this may or may have not how i acted towards my crush, out here exposing myself- bear with my humiliations i bought upon myself, happy reading!

summary: modern au wherein you have this crush on inumaki toge and you cannot function right whenever he's around. what can i say? he just takes away your words with his mere existence 🥴✋

crush!toge x gn!reader

the first time you noticed him was when he accidentally bumped to you yes it's cliche i know shhh

your friend happen to know him! would you look at that, luck's on your side

but it was a mistake asking your friend, yuta

he won't stop teasing you whenever toge's around

saw him passing by? yuta pokes your side and starts calling for toge, "toge c'mere!" then off you go to 'meet' your teacher to talk about that non-existent project you were gonna have.

your actions didn't go unnoticed by toge

he even joins yuta for the fun of it

oh you're having a good day? let's ruin that and make you humiliate yourself:

you inform your friends that you're having a great time so far, currently munching on your food happily.

all the stress gone along with the projects and homework that was piled up. until yuta thought it would be fun to ruin your streak.

he apparently just so happen to tell toge, out of all people, that it's alright to have lunch on your table.

surprise, surprise, the only available seat was beside you. "you little shit" you glare at yuta sitting across you who have the biggest smile on his face.

you gulp nervously as toge takes the seat beside you, "hey, i hope you don't mind" his soft voice making you feel fuzzy inside, oh that dreamy voice of his.

yuta gets all giddy, he chuckles at your state. he really thinks this will be the good time to introduce you, like c'mon you haven't even got time to fix yourself properly!

you're still recovering from the all-nighters you pulled. "i'm sure y/n is more than okay to have you here~"

yuta gestures to you, "l/n y/n, inumaki toge" toge turns to you smiling sweetly, "nice to meet you" he holds out a hand.

your throat becomes dry, looking back at him, trying not to look away because goddamn he looks good, who gave him the right?!

you snap out of your daze when you hear yuta's snickers, you feel heat rushing up your cheeks.

subtly rubbing your sweaty palm on your uniform before shaking his hand, "y-yeah, nice to meet you."

you mentally slap yourself for stuttering, quickly letting go of his hand and going back to your food. doing your best to pretend your crush is not beside you also eating his lunch.

after that faithful day, toge never fails to tease you with your little crush on him

oh did i forget to mention he's your classmate?

on top of that, you didn't even know how it ended up with having him as your seatmate

you can't help but give him side glances whenever the lesson starts

he will always catch your eyes on him making him smirk a little

one time, he straight up turns to face you staring right into your eyes small smile on his face, you squeak turning your head to the side quickly. you hear him chuckle at this before going back to writing down his notes.

if you're wearing glasses;

he playfully flirts with you if the teacher gives you a little break. he will nonchalantly pull your glasses off your face and try it on.

"woah, kinda high but not so far from mine" he said while scrunching his nose cutely. let's just say he wears contacts

he cocks a brow at you still wearing your glasses, "you think i suit this frame?" you nod your head hesitantly, looking away, face feeling hot.

"need my glasses please," you manage to mumble out. he chuckles nevertheless giving your glasses back.

there's this event on your school wherein toge was pulled from the sea of students

making him the center of attention, it was the usual event that the school hold every year wherein they teach you about relationships and such.

"what about you, young man?" the host points at toge's direction after giving a heartfelt speech about relationships.

"come and join me," your eyes zeroes on toge as he stands beside the host hands on his back, looking all polite and kind.

"anyone you fancy in these school?" the host puts his mic in front of toge gesturing at the crowd, toge smiles after getting the question.

"yes," a simple answer that have you a little disappointed because damn you're wishing that's you.

the host's smile gets wider, "oh we have a lucky one, such a fine handsome young man they would have."

the host continues the event letting toge go back to his seat after the little interview.

'indeed, lucky them' you thought to youself.

however, before toge could sit down. his eyes locks with yours, your breath hitch and busy yourself with your id looking at it like it's the first time you've seen it. yuta laughs at your crisis and shakes his head "you're hopeless."

yuta most likely forced you to have the courage to hit that follow button

you know what happened next? only a few seconds passed, he already accepts your follow request

of course, you come and check his profile right after

there's also that day when you encourage yuta to send a message to his crush

but yuta got an idea of making this fair for the both of you

he really likes the idea of you and toge working out

this is a great opportunity to push you towards him

he tells you to send a message to toge, so that it would be equal for you two

how stupid of you to agree with this boy

as soon as you hit send, you toss your phone to yuta wanting the floor to open up and just fall down on the bottomless pit

yuta gasp loudly seeing the response

he smacks your stomach which was closest in his reach and shoves your phone to your face, laughing loudly.

you: hey, i just wanna tell you that you're really smart and i can't help but also admire your pretty handwriting :>>

inumaki.mp3: oh thank you, thought you would compliment my face considering you stare more to it ;DD

your mouth hangs open looking back to yuta who's still laughing

to say that you're embarrassed and not wanting to exist right at this moment would be an understatement

last embarrassment for this headcanon

yuta just loves messing with you

there's this sports event in school wherein lots of students gets a chance to have an excuse to take picture with their crush if u're from philippines u know the feels

yuta takes this chance to get you one, of course he's that great of a friend like that

a little context for this, there's this kind of like a party for the students to enjoy after the long sports week that happened. with deejay and all plus the loud music blasting! -well our school provides one i dunno bout urs-

toge's sweating slightly after getting out of the crowd, still laughing from the little showdown they had in the center of the little crowd his friends gathered.

this day of the sports week is definitely his favorite part, his friends pats his back as they shout to each other over the loud music.

staying back where it's more calm and less people compare up in front where the students are jumping up and down restless.

yuta happen to pull you out just in time of finding toge with his friends chatting. he grins at you, you look back at him scared not knowing what's going on.

he drags you to where toge's group are standing, once you arrive you bite your bottom lip eyes widening after seeing toge.

you begin to turn on your heel and just straight up ditch yuta, however, luck's not on your side today. "togeee~!" yuta shouted patting his shoulder.

toge turns and sees yuta, smile still on his face. his eyes widens in recognition, "oh yuta!" he nod at him.

he moves his gaze to your back seeing you're about to flee the scene. yuta pulls you back making you face toge, "you remember them right?" toge nods giving you a smile.

you quickly look away, palms already sweating. your mind working on how to kill yuta in so many possible ways, "they wanna take picture with you, if that's alright?" yuta asked waving his phone, your plan scratching to killing him right now.

before toge could reply, his group of friends notices the little interaction and teases him.

"oh what do we have here?" nobara looks at the scene with a knowing smile, yuta pushes you to stand beside toge readying his camera.

yuji whistles seeing you two together, "c'mon~ put your arm around them!" yuji ushers, as toge's friend cheers in the background.

toge looks at you, his smile comforting you before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. you inhale deeply from your nose, trying to calm down yourself.

"smile for the camera!" yuta shouted having fun with this as he clicks away on his phone capturing every moment. yep, you're definitely gonna kill him later.

copyright © 2021 by love-amihan all rights reserved. do not repost in other platforms. reblogs are welcome and highly appreciated! <33

[chetungwan]

My synesthesia is fucking awesome, actually. I just convert everything into something visual. Music, smells, taste, it all activates the seeing part of my brain. At some point early on everything got wired in there.

So the cool thing about synesthesia is that while it's most likely that one is born with the senses wired into each other, what specific things get activated appears to develop based on what one is exposed to. For instance, almost all English speaking synesthets associate A with the color red. I think this has alot to do with how we're taught the alphabet. A is almost always taught with an apple as an example. A red apple.

So while I was always going to associate letters with colors, the specific colors got assigned as my brain built places to put my knowledge of colors and letters.

That's fascinating! I love that! Brains are bullshit! Anyways, under the readmore is what I see the colors, gender, and personality of every letter and number as

A - Red, the brightest, plainest red ever. What people mean when they say firetruck red. A is ridiculously honorable. They are lawful good to their core, an unwavering guard of what is right. Too serious for their own good, and while they're good people, probably a little frustrating to be friends with.

B - A warm pink. Mothering. She is older than A, I think, and is made of a warm comfort, of heated milk at bedtime and a hug. She's seen alot, and chooses to respond to it, here, at the end of her story, with love to those just beginning. I think she's pretty heavyset.

C - Light blue. He's B's brother, and her age, but he's less active in his affection. He's more of the cool older cousin you see sometimes, kind, yes, and definitely cares for you, but he's more here to hang out with his sister.

D - Dark, dark brown. He's like the older brother to C and B, slow moving, gentle, wise, super big. He's the kind of guy to take you fishing and give you some kind of profound advice on the boat at the end of the second act that makes you suddenly understand your emotional problem and the scene ends there and switches to you running breathless through the rain to fix everything.

E - Bright yellow. They're snarky and pretend that they know what they're doing, but you could probably shatter them with a well-placed comment.

F - Bright lime green. E's older brother who actually has his shit together. He's a comforting presence and often ends up apologising for E's harshness. Also, he's tall and skinny and tired.

G - Dark green. Has a lot in common with D, I think they're good friends. G has a little more sarcasm going on, more dad jokes, but he's still a really solid guy.

H - Dark brown, but lighter than D. He's a joking, kind guy. Like G or D but more goofy. He's maybe not as dependable as them, but he still means really well. He's your buddy and he wants to support you, but he's not quite clear on what it is you need. Also heavy set like D and G.

I - Pale white clear cream, looks like an icicle or vanilla ice cream. They are one huge diva. They're a singer or a stage performer, they wear white fur and hold themself tall. They are the heart of their clique, mean and vicious and unfortunately talented.

J - Lavender but darker. Part of I's clique, and up there in terms cruelty. But he's capable of kindness. He would trail behind the crowd of laughing terrors, and make awkward eye contact and offer to buy you a drink later. Don't rely on his guilt. He may not want to be mean, but he's not going to leave his clique behind for you.

K - A rich purple. She's the older sister of I's clique, and will call them out on their cruel shit when things go too far. She is irrivocably confident and knows her own strength to it's farthest edge. If this clique runs in a city where the rest are in the arts, she's running the business aspect of everything. She can be mean, and runs to harshness, but she genuinely wants others to do well. She just also is unwilling to put herself down in any way to do it.

L - Pale cream, leaning to light yellow. Leans toward masculine presentation. They're like I but worse. I is smug and self-absorbed, but L has a taste for meanness. They're the one who will take bullying too far, push beyond into outright cruelty. But they're subtle about it, they know that the others might not suffer them if they're blatant. Instead they just feed off the general meanness of the clique. Almost all of this clique is a little too skinny, too. K is the only one who actually is healthy.

M - A darker pink than B. She's a big woman, and boisterous. B is the truly motherly one, but M sure tries. Her love has a smothering edge to it, though, even if she doesn't mean to. She feeds everyone she knows.

N - Bright orange. He's a kid. He's an excitable, energetic kid who likes running around and playing and shouting. When I think of N, I think of Halloween and of kids running up streets in the dark, delighted and having had way too much sugar. Light up shoes and jumping.

O - O and 0 are nearly identical. And what it looks like is not similar to anything else. O looks like a dewdrop poised over a black background, crystal and transparent. It reflects light, a round jewel glowing in the dark, and it reflects the dark, black background showing through. I am lingering on the appearance rather than the personality, because O is alien. In the truest sense. O doesn't have a human personality to explain, it is the far end of a black hole. If you extend the mathematics of a black hole past what describes it to the negatives, then you get a white hole, a thing spewing mass and energy that nothing can enter. O is that border. O is that equation, that explanation. O is the black hole as it turns into a white hole, it is the hole in the universe.

P - A hard pink, pretty dark but not like. Majenta or anything. Okay, so. Gender is weird. He uses he/him pronouns, but there is other gender stuff going on and I'm not totally sure how to say it. I know his sense of gender as much as I know my own, but it took me years to figure out how best to describe and portray my gender, and in this case I only know his gender and not what body he'd be born with because the only sense of body I have about these guys is the vague shape of the actual letters. So I is skinny and M is wide. So fuck knows, man. He's not cis. And honestly putting these guys in bodies that they wouldn't like bugs me

He's a laid-back guy, for the most part. He's close in the alphabet to R, S, and T, so he's some kind of related to them and gets exasperated putting up with them, but he also knows better than to get involved in that drama. You wouldn't come to him for advice, but he'd be a good person to go out drinking with to avoid thinking about a problem.

Q - A similar enigma to O. Similar color, too, except with flecks of purple. And similarly, again, his personality feels like O's except with flecks of human in it. He's very mature, in the parts of him that aren't the personification of a black hole. A real adult.

R - A dark, velvet purple. Oh man. The three siblings. We've reached maximum asshole here. R is a bundle or anger that is poorly directed. She is resentful and angry and probably lonely but she'd die before admitting that. She's probably the most messed up of the three, and has probably been in jail before. But not in prison because she clearly has never had to face serious consequences. Just. She'd be a sympathetic character if she wasn't such a dick.

S - Dark green. I'd call him the letter version of 7 except he's not nearly as smooth and also more of a dick. He is also angry, but tries to smother it in mean humor. He tends to be the one to poke and prod at R, getting her even more pissed off and liable to make poor choices. He thinks it's funny, because he's awful. He's R and T's brother, btw.

T - Brown, darker than H and lighter than D. It's actually the most brown brown out there. He sure comes off the most stable of the three. He is also the most likely to stab you while maintaining the perfectly straight face that he's been making during the whole conversation. You didn't realize that you pissed him off because he literally gave no sign. The other two try his patience constantly but they are also the only people he will put up with. They are all three very dysfunctional.

U - Slate grey. Okay, at this point the personalities start getting a little blurry. He's a little dour, pretty serious. He does his taxes early and will tell you about it. And then ask you about your taxes and frowns when you tell him you haven't done them yet. And offers to help you with them. He's very nice but painfully boring.

V - Bronze, with silvery highlights. He's got a sharp smile.

W - Dark grey, past slate. He's similar in personality to U, but with a deeper voice.

X - I have no idea what color this is but it kinda seems metallic for sure. Steel, maybe? And it's personality is a total mystery.

Y - Bright yellow. Sharp. More metallic than E, like gold. A glimmer in the breeze, a trick, a con, and gone again.

Z - Some form of greyscale, black and white. Tall and proud. Willing to crack jokes.

1 - A pale ivory. In personality, almost a twin to A, though a little colder. They take their job seriously, a soldier. Slightly less friendly than A.

2 - Sky blue, and you know what gender is stupid. See P for details why. 2 sure as hell seems to be every gender at once. 2 is friendly and straightforward, a good friend if not particularly adventurous, and probably keeps an effortlessly tidy house. Definitely doesn't realize that not everyone can be that responsible.

3 - Firelight orange. He's the exact opposite of a mom friend. Suggests doing every impulsive thought you have. Has jumped off of multiple bridges. He has probably pushed 2 off of at least one bridge. This might be an attempt to flirt but also could just be because he thought of it and then immediately did it. He's such a fun friend but you absolutely cannot rely on him for anything.

4 - Lavender. Pure as driven snow, a gentle saint of a child, and in love with the whole damn world. She's very open and friendly everything about her makes you want to protect her. Has about a thousand parents.

5 - Firetruck red, just like A, though very different in personality. He's loud, friendly, kinda self-absorbed. It can be difficult being his friend because he'll forget commitments and then not even act really sorry about it. He's like. A drinking buddy, and nothing else.

6 - A bright spring green. He's a friendly guy, personable, cheerful, fairly responsible. He likes friendly teasing and also might be related to 7, but don't think too hard about that second part.

7 - Dark forest green. She is a viper woman dresses in a long green dress, deadly and seductive. When you turn your back she slinks closer and you just can't tell if that thing in her hands is a poisoned blade or not.

8 - Dark brown, similar in shade to D. He's so responsible. In fact, he's almost identical to D, if maybe slightly older or taller. Something along those lines.

9 - Bright yellow. A lightning salesman, he spreads his hands and grins, and everyone he talks to falls a little bit in love with him. A con man, a trickster, he lies and lies and charms and lies. If you get to know him at all and not just whatever part he's playing, he's a dick.

[inacatastrophicmind]

Hi I went through few cons and I actually got my heart broken a little bit. Every one of them had Jensen denying the idea of Destiel or Dean being anything but the American male fantasy.

Vancon 2012 J2 panel he avoids the fan who is screaming Destiel. I understand that because he was going through something Misha shaped during 2012. Destiel was the last thing he wanted in his life then.

The controversial NJCon 2013 where he pretty much rudely avoids the Bi Dean question. I mean come on there were so many ways to back down there but just giving into that crowd like that and shooting down that girl who asked the question? I know she actually explained what happened there but he is saying things to convey he is unhappy where that question is heading. JP who is considered the immature even is considering answering the question the girl is continuously apologising it is a horror show there while Jensen is just being plain rude.

Jib 2014 solo panel where he is asked if Dean will ever get his pie. And he denies Cas ever being there at the end of the line. And ironically at the end, he was only there with all kinds of pie but no Cas. Amazing how life worked out for him.

Jib 2015 solo panel where he again denies both CasDean and Destiel from Fan Fiction episode. JPad was not there and Jensen was in a bad mood so maybe it had something to do with that.

Chicon 2016 he again invalidates Cas when a question is asked about him Cas and Mary.

TorCon 2016 where both Js are denying Cas's importance saying there's no necessity for him.

JaxCon 2017 he pretty much shoots down Destiel by saying Destiel doesn't exist.

In JaxCon 2018 he wrote NO infront of Bi Dean research paper a fan showed him.

Jibcon 2019 he asks audience Where does Destiel exist. but I think he was much like teasing the audience there tbh. No major harm but it still hurts.

I just.. I truly believe he knows what he and Misha were doing in the Destiel implied scenes. And now the cat is pretty much out of the bag. But still Jensen is pretty much staying on his ground and it is nice he is now more open for interpretation but the strength this fandom should have to forgive him for all he did...

I believe in Karma. I think Karma got to Jensen eventually for all hurt he did by those words to the fandom. I don't hate Jensen in fact I really adore the guy. But it doesn't mean I am not upset by his words. How I think Karma worked here is that he never embraced what he was portraying as a character and Karma finally said "Okay Dude enough foreplay.. You want pie okay here's pie and your car now die and be in heaven and your character arc is in garbage but your brother gets to live. There goes your male fantasy.."

I understand if he had internalized sexuality issues of himself that he didn't feel like exposing by talking about Dean and Destiel but still there are much better ways to shoot down fan opinions without being so rude.

In 2014 he pretty much says that at the end of the series Dean might get all kinds of pie with no Castiel and...Geez Is it not what exactly happened? No Cas and Pie on his face. Accidental foreshadowing spoilers..

I think he got Karma for hurting so many fan hearts and denying something he evidently portrayed in his character. At the end he didn't get a happy ending he got robbed by his own show. While the shippers actually got something out of it Thanks to Misha.

I don't need Jensen to embrace Destiel in an open hug because not in any universe that's gonna happen. I actually hoped he would eventually be open to it. He actually might be, considering his reaction to episode 18. But there's no proof actually footage of him saying anything positive about Destiel. It just... is such a bummer.

I know Jensen is hurt for his own reasons by his own show which actually hurt him in ways no fan ever did. I hope he understands how fans feel now being betrayed by a show they love.

May be he had the Karma coming..

In the past, Jensen hasn't been Destiel's biggest fan, and that's something that has always bothered me. Not because I didn't respect that he didn't like Destiel, but because every time Destiel was brought up, he was kind of rude. The same thing happened with anyone mentioned Dean being bi. It sucked and hurt because he could have handled it better. He could have easily said "I don't see Destiel/Dean as bi, but it's okay if you do". It's just that simple.

I don't know why Jensen was so rude about Destiel or bi!Dean. I don't know if it was of something personal or because certain fans were rude to him when they brought up Destiel and bi!Dean, or if he was scared that Dean would change if Destiel happened, because society and media think that anyone who belongs to the LGBTQIA+ community's personality is just their sexuality and gender and nothing else, so maybe Jensen was afraid that Dean would just become a character that was bi and that everything else that Dean was would disappear. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that he grew up in Texas, which isn't the most liberal place. It could be anything.

However, since they started filming s15 and when he found out about Cas' confesion, he has been really supportive about Destiel. He might not be as vocal and supportive as Misha is, but you can see the change. And that's important. Even at a JIBcon, (I can't remember which one), after he haid said something negative about Destiel the previous year, he apologized. He knows how important Destiel is for a lot of us. And he has learnt from his past behavior. Even if he doesn't fully support it, he now knows that it means a lot to a lot of people and he isn't rude about it anymore and he respects it.

Also, I should mention that in most cons, all the panels that involve either Jensen, Misha and/or J*red are moderated, and 90% of them forbid Destiel questions. So I don't know what the cons organizers tell the actors to say when Destiel is brought up, or if anyone from the network forbids them to talk about it, but unfortunately, Destiel has been considered a taboo topic by TPTB, and that might have also affected on the way Jensen reacted any time Destiel or bi!Dean was mentioned. Although I still think he should have handled it better, but at least, he now seems to be on good terms with the topics, and as I mentioned above, that's really important.

As for the Cas thing, about how both Jensen and J*red always joked how he didn't matter, it's a joke that's been going for too long, and that's all it is. They have taken it way too far, especially J*red, because most of the times, when Jensen is talking without J*red by his side, he always brings up Cas and how important he is. Just look at some of the interviews he has done over the years.

With that said, I think you're being mean about the whole karma thing. What the writers did to Dean was just the writers being shitty writers. They wrote a whole season with the only goal of killing Dean. After Dean has finally found the will to live, after he is finally able to live on his own terms, the writers decided that killing him was a good way to end the story. That's not karma; that's bad storytelling.

And just because Jensen didn't handle Destiel or bi!Dean in a good way, it doesn't mean that he deserved to have Dean treated like shit. And I think that what you're suggesting is actually quite mean.

Jensen might have made mistakes in the past regarding Destiel and bi!Dean, but he seems to have grown and realized that he can't be that rude. It's not hard at all to accept that people love Destiel and bi!Dean, even if he doesn't. And he has gotten there. So accept that and don't be mean.

[screamting]

The Last Night [highschool au]

warnings: long post. Canon-compliant body horror/mutilation, threats of suicide, threats to make it look like a suicide, things that don't die when they should, young Bruce enacting a stupid plan.

masterpost

000

Bruce didn’t come back from the library.

Despite how aware of his surroundings he might have been, he couldn't stop a hand going over his mouth.

A blindfold over his eyes.

Something that made him feel sleepy.

And he was pulled away.

--

Bruce woke disoriented.

Cold.

He groaned before he thought he should've hidden it, but the thought was far away in the back of his mind as he slowly regained consciousness.

--

“The prodigal son awakens.” Someone said above him. In front. Their voice echoed.

Bruce was on a slab in the middle of a large room. A circular theatre.

It was filled with people. Staring at him.

… And all of them wore the same white mask off an owl.

--

...ah.

Here it was.

A cold fog of clarity, instead of a haze to get lost in.

Once he was awake enough to see, he was awake enough to glare, and he set his icy blue eyes on them as he pushed himself up to sit.

“...you guys just sit around and stare at unconscious kids all day?” he asked.

--

“Only the special ones, Bruce. And you're very special.” The man said, one stood out from the rest in a white suit and black cape.

Bruce could probably feel someone behind him too. Closer than the rest.

Behind him was a man in black and gold, spectacles over his eyes and mask designed like an owl, but different from the rest.

--

He did feel him, once he'd sat up-- he jerked away, unable to stop himself from showing that weakness once he realized how close that one was standing. Different from the rest. Gloves like claws.

(Talon, his mind told him, with a trickle of ice down his spine, remembering how months ago, the business mongle had been found in his apartment, cut to ribbons.)

...but still, he forced his voice to not shake as he dragged his gaze back to the vacant masks and faces of the Court, and looked up at what he could only assume was the ‘judge’--

And he must've been standing trial.

“So, what?” Bruce asked, wetting his lips. “You going to kill me?”

--

“Oh no, no, Bruce Wayne. We’re going to recruit you.” The Judge said, his voice as jovial as it had been since the beginning.

The crowd around him was near motionless save for the occasional lean from one to whisper to the other. They were all clearly real people, and all of them well dressed.

Gotham’s Elite.

Just like him.

--

His throat tightened.

They were nothing like him. Nothing like him, or Tommy, who had suffered, and--

He found his voice loud, even in his own ears, shoving himself off the slab and ready to fight the entire room if he fucking had to. Assassin, no assassin, if it killed him, he didn’t care. He had no friends, and no future, and-- “You killed my parents,” he howled. “As if I would ever let you recruit me!”

--

As soon as he lunged forward, even if he was nowhere near the Judge, a taloned hand reached down and grabbed his shoulder with enough force to hold him in place, to keep him from running.

“Now who told you that?” The Judge asked. “Why would we ever kill one of our own?”

--

That stopped him almost as sharply as the hand on his shoulder did. His breath hitched.

He was normally so good at spotting liars, but he couldn’t see their faces. Couldn’t see their eyes. Didn’t even know what their regular voices were like to compare.

But they would have to be lying.

His parents would never work with them.

“You’re lying.”

He grabbed the Talon’s arm, and tried not to think of the knives on their fingers, and tried to throw him over his shoulder in a judo flip.

--

The Talon hadn’t been ready for the flip initially, but still had more training than Bruce.

Their feet landed before they pulled Bruce with them into a bear hug to keep him still.

“Surely you don’t think even your parents passed up this opportunity?” The Judge asked. “We are Gotham’s richest, just as you are. We decide what happens to our city, not the common riff raff crawling the streets. Your parents worked with us to make Gotham what it is today.”

--

It wasn’t like being held tight by Clark. The armored body around him moved when he struggled, but still-- still, he couldn’t do anything more than twist in the hold, but not break it, as he started to shake.

“Then how come it all fell apart when they died!?” he said, voice cracking.

His eyes felt hot.

“Even the Court couldn’t hold it together without them!?”

--

“I’m afraid that’s just another case of correlation not equalling causation.” The Judge said. “Perhaps with your help, you could bring Gotham back to something your parents would be proud of? We can help you. That’s what we do; offer a network of aid to bring Gotham to her full potential.”

“Talon,” the Judge turned his head to address the man bear-hugging Bruce into submission. “Take our guest to his lodgings. Give him time to think.”

The man said nothing as he set Bruce on his feet and shoved him forward.

--

…

Bruce stopped struggling, watching the Judge with barely-restrained tears. Shaking.

He wobbled on his feet when he was set down and stumbled with the shove.

...but he walked. He walked like he’d gone and drunk a bar dry, but he did it, still feeling the Talon’s arms around him through his clothes and suddenly feeling even colder and more exposed now that his arms were free.

“...you kill people,” he said to the Talon. “Why…”

--

“To maintain order.” The Talon said, leading Bruce down a series of corridors that became increasingly less lavish as they went.

They came to a steel door and the Talon opened it, but didn’t shove Bruce inside, expecting him to go in willingly.

The interior was nice for what it was. A comfortable bed. A desk with a light.

He was still one of Gotham’s Elite, after all.

--

“What about their families?” he asked, though he thought he knew the answer.

He was lightheaded.

Dizzy.

He went in, and stood just on the inside, feeling cold and empty.

--

If he was waiting on an answer he wouldn’t get one.

The Talon closed the door and it clicked heavily as it locked, and then he walked away.

--

…

Bruce couldn’t even hear his footsteps leaving.

...he wanted to throw up. But he just stood there. Dazed and shaking, and throat dry. No one knew where he was. He didn’t know where he was. No one knew the court, or would give Alfred closure, or be able to do anything if he disappeared down here.

No one would find his body if they wanted to get rid of him. A hole in his neck, just like mom’s.

“...Clark,” he croaked.

“Clark. Clark. Clark…”

--

… Clark would hear him.

Clark would hear him walking back to their dorm and stop dead in his tracks.

He knew the voice and it sounded so desperate, and suddenly he had forgotten the stabbing in his heart and was turning to run in the direction of it.

Ignoring whoever it was that just yelled at him for running.

He ran to where he thought it was coming from, but-- but that couldn’t be it. It was a dead end. So he circled back.

Another dead end.

It didn’t make sense.

How the fu-...

He started to look harder.

--

At some point, Bruce found himself on the floor, curled over his knees and pressing his palms into his eyes.

Were there cameras in here? Were there microphones? Would it matter right now?

“Clark, please, I don’t know where I am… I need help, please don’t have your hearing aids in right now, oh, fuck…”

--

Clark might have looked a little insane staring at the floor and seeing his friend miles down and sort of… throwing up his hands.

Okay.

Okay.

Uh.

…

Clark snuck out of the school and found his way into the sewers.

Ew.

It was as far down as he could get.

And then his eyes glowed red.

--

...at some point, Bruce stopped calling for help.

At some point, he just started talking.

Talking into his hands.

“I’m sorry about the bathroom. I was trying to scare you. I don’t know if you can hear but if you can I’m so sorry if you don’t hear from me again--”

He was going to do something stupid.

“--I might join them.”

--

Clark had no idea what Bruce was talking about. The Court of Owls was so far from his mind right now, he assumed maybe Bruce had been snooping around somewhere and got stuck or something and--

And soon the walls around him shook.

Clark didn’t drill down right over Bruce. He didn’t want to hurt him or have anything collapse around him, but that meant he didn’t really know what he was getting into. He couldn’t use heat vision and x-ray at the same time. So he just… guessed and then blew downward.

He landed somewhere with carpet and a loud thud, breathing heavily.

He had taken off his uniform and wrapped a bandana around his face to help with the smell and dust.

And he knew he had seen other skeletons down here before digging downward, but he didn’t know what that meant.

--

...Bruce felt it.

Felt the slight tremor in the walls. In the floor.

His head jerked upwards.

Oh no.

Clark had heard him.

“Shit-- shit, Clark!” he said, a little louder, still scared of being heard outside the door, now actually looking for cameras, he’d said the name too many times, though-- “Clark, don’t let them see you! They can take you away!”

--

There was really no way he hadn’t been heard, but--

He still tripped and stumbled over the rubble before giving up and just flying over it.

(Hide your face when you do it. Be so alien they can’t guess it’s you.)

Clark made sure the bandana over his face was still there and flew to where he could hear Bruce’s voice.

--

Fuck. Shit. Bruce didn’t know what to do, but the daze in his head had been replaced by the knowledge that Clark was coming, and he needed to find some way to help keep him safe.

He started trying the door, trying to shove it open or tug it that way, and when it didn’t budge, he banged on it. “Hey. Talon! Where the fuck are you!”

Talon is here, Clark, Talon is here, you heard the name, you know, okay--

--

Talon?? What??

Clark was just starting to wrap his head around what this place was, red carpets and tall pillars, when he saw Talon.

And Talon saw him. Floating.

They were both pretty unprepared.

But Talon was trained.

Bruce wouldn't see it, but he would hear it.

Clark yelling, startled. A scuffle. Something big and heavy being thrown into a wall.

…

And then Clark's face in front of the window of the door, his hair full of dust and face covered.

“Bruce! What the crap!”

--

Bruce stared back at him, eyes wide and afraid.

“Clark! Open the door!”

--

Clark tried the handle and pulled.

But the handle just ripped off.

… Okay.

Clark took a breath and shoved his hands through the sides where the door connected to the wall and pulled the whole thing off.

--

Good.

Bruce was already shoving himself against the floating alien, hugging him tight.

“Oh, God, oh, shit. Are you okay?!” he hissed, eyes flicking over Clark’s shoulder, looking for Talon--

--

Clark's shirt was torn up, but he looked fine as his arms wrapped around Bruce.

“Y-yeah, I'm--”

His head snapped back as he heard Talon get up with a groan behind him, body slumped in front of a massive dent in the wall.

--

At the groan, Bruce shoved out of Clark’s arms, and--

And shoved Clark behind him.

“Stay down,” he hissed, voice sharp and strong again, now that-- now that his friend was here. “If you try to touch him again I’ll bite through my tongue and you’ll lose a recruit just like that.”

--

“What?” Clark breathed, because-- because there was so much going on right now.

“We're leaving!” He yelled, grabbing Bruce again and pulling him close with a grip that said he didn't have a choice.

Talon was getting to his feet.

--

Bruce sucked in a breath as he was grabbed.

“No-- no! I need to know who..”

But he wouldn’t have a choice. Not with Clark’s iron grip on him. And not with his life not even enough to dissuade Talon.

--

Clark grabbed him tight and they were flying. Flying past startled court members with masks, away from Talon. Away from all of it.

When they got to the hole Clark made he said “take a breath!”

And they shot up.

It was like a rollercoaster in reverse, enough to take his breath away.

--

Bruce clung tight, sucking in a breath when Clark told him to and squeezing his eyes shut.

He pressed himself as hard as he could against the only solid thing he knew, and hid his face in Clark’s torn collar as they went.

“North,” Bruce told him, croaking. “Not school. School’s not safe--”

--

Clark heard him.

They shot out of the hole in the sewer and then up and out the manhole before anyone would tell who, or what, it was.

And then he leveled out and slowed down. They were too high for prying eyes to be able to tell what they were.

Headed North.

“Bruce, what the hell was that?” Clark asked, his bandanna long fallen off his face to hang around his neck.

--

Bruce still clung around Clark, shivering in the high altitude.

“The Owls,” he finally croaked. “Someone drugged me.”

--

His expression softened.

“... It’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

Clark hoped that was comforting.

--

Bruce nodded against Clark.

“...I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

--

…

“I know. I heard you.”

…

“You were right though. I was jealous of Tommy. So I’m sorry too.”

--

A shudder he couldn’t control ran through Bruce’s body.

“...don’t be. It’s fine. I didn’t…”

Everything was so wound up inside him. Or maybe that was lightheadedness.

“You don’t have to be jealous of people I don’t like like that.”

--

“I know. Just--”

…

He sighed. “It’s okay.”

(I know you don’t feel that way about me.)

“I understand.”

--

Bruce nodded against Clark again, and tried to hold in a sniff.

Arms still wrapped around Clark and suspended so far up they would barely be specks from the ground, Bruce pulled himself up a little in Clark’s grip. And kissed him.

(Everyone wanted something from him. His money, or status, or looks, or… or for Tommy, all three. All three and his dead parents.

And Clark had still come for him, even when Bruce had ripped all of those away and chased him far away.

And he was alive.)

--

Just like before Clark was a deer in headlights, eyes wide as Bruce put his lips on his. His grip stayed true, growing a little tighter around him, holding him close.

And like last time he closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss as they slowed down in the sky.

--

Bruce didn’t pull back this time.

...not that there was anywhere to pull back to, and he was very keenly aware of this, his legs dangling down with nothing to support him but the arms tight around his waist and his own grip around Clark’s shoulders.

….this kiss was gentler than the last one Bruce had given Clark. Slower. Like an apology. It was sweet.

When Clark pressed in he opened his mouth a little and tried to guide him through it.

--

Clark had never kissed someone like this before. It was nothing like sneaking a kiss from a girl break home when he was younger, hoping you did it right and having to take the lead.

… It was nice following for once.

He opened his mouth and followed along, slowly coming to a stop and bringing his legs down so Bruce could use him to lay on rather than hang over the city. And with Bruce's body supported by him underneath he could allow one hand to wander a little.

To feel his black hair.

--

Bruce could lead. He'd--

...he'd done a lot of kissing, the last two months, trying to forget the softness of Clark’s mouth.

He was still very, very aware of the fall below him, and the fact that even though his weight now fell a little more on Clark's waist, one of the arms holding him had still moved away.

His breathing grew a little deeper as he felt the hand reemerge in his hair, and pulled away just to get a deeper breath from the thin air.

--

Clark pulled away when Bruce did still looking a little dazed. Happy, but dazed. His hand slipped down, feeling the back of Bruce's neck.

Gentle.

“Okay,” he breathed, “Guess I don't understand.” He smirked.

--

Bruce frowned at him, though it wasn't an angry one. He swallowed. Clark would feel it under his hand.

“What don't you understand?”

--

“Thought you didn't like me like that.” He said quietly.

--

...Bruce finally grimaces, and tries to look away, but there's nowhere to look to but sky.

“...said you didn't have to be jealous of people I didn't like like that.”

--

“I know, but-- I didn't know that meant-- that meant I meant anything.” He looked down at the world below.

--

“That's ‘cause you're an idiot,” Bruce said, and leaned up to give him a tentative kiss again

--

Clark laughed into the second kiss, taking the jab in stride.

--

...as nice as it was, it would all have to end soon.

He was slowly growing colder in the sky, even when they weren't moving, and even with Clark under him. He was starting to shiver more, even though he refused to complain.

And they… they needed to get down, somehow, and find somewhere safe.

They couldn't go back to school. Not when Bruce had been kidnapped right in the library, in a bastion of the Gotham Elite.

The manor was nearby, but…

...but he didn't know if he could trust Alfred, after this.

But… for right now…

“Come on,” he whispered. “I think I know somewhere we can hide.”

--

He could feel Bruce shivering even if he didn't complain.

“Okay,” Clark said, grabbing Bruce with both arms again and starting to fly.

“Just tell me where.”

--

Bruce nodded and sniffed a bit, and told him.

...he told him how to find the little cave entrance, on the side of a hill, with a brick ring built around it to try and stop wandering children from falling in anymore.

It was too small to fly in together, so Bruce slid down first, into the cool, dark cave.

“No one else knows about it down here. Alfred only saw it once. He doesn't know I come back. It should be safe…”

He hoped it was.

--

Clark flew in behind him.

“... So what happened? I just heard you calling me and you were way down under even the sewers.”

--

Under the sewers? They must've been underwater almost, at that depth so near the shore.

“...” the cave was dark, despite the stream of sunlight coming down the hole. Bruce had left a box of things down here, though; an oil lantern among them.

He lit it, and relaxed when the wick wasn't too wet to work.

“...I was drugged,” he said again. “...I woke up in the court. And we talked.”

--

“... What did they say?”

--

...Bruce remembered the familiar tailor of the suits. The expense of the hideout.

He swallowed.

“...they said my family was one of them. They didn't kill them.”

--

“... What?” Clark breathed. “Wh-why?”

--

“...” Bruce knew very well why. But he also was very aware that it was something Kent had previously been defensive about. “...because the rich control the city. Not the ‘riff-raff’. And they want to keep it that way.”

“...and my family's one of the oldest in Gotham.”

--

(I might join them.)

Clark found himself flying around to hover beside Bruce, eyes catching the light of the lantern in the dark.

“You’re not going to join them, right? They kill people.”

--

“I know,” Bruce said right away, trying to look up at Clark, but not able to really meet his eyes. “...but if I'm in charge, maybe I can control them.”

The way he'd controlled Tommy. The way he'd held him back.

--

“Yeah? And how long will that take? To get to the top? Bruce that’d take years. Years of killing people just because they aren’t building things where you want or putting their money where you don’t agree with!”

--

He bit his cheek. “And what's my other option, Kent?”

“Even if I don't join, people are still going to die-- and I won't be a step closer to stopping it.”

--

“You’ve got so much you could use to help people, to keep them from dying.” Clark said. “Maybe you can’t fly or shoot fire from your eyes, but you have a name. You have money. Don’t be like every other rich person and throw that money towards your friends. You know that’s what they’re doing. They just pat each other on the back and kill anyone trying to make a difference!”

“You can make a bigger difference then even someone like me can, Bruce.”

--

“You think I don't know?”

God. He didn't mean for his voice to get so angry it cracked.

“That's what my mother was doing when she died.”

He flung his arm out, out towards the ceiling. “Why do you think we’re in this cave? Because they have names, they have money, and if they don't see me as a threat, maybe I can use what they throw away to fix this stupid city.”

His face was wet.

--

“You don’t know if they were even telling the truth, Bruce!” Clark said, still floating in front of him. “You know they’re the type of people to say anything that will make you want to join them. And then what? You join them and wade in the blood they spill right along beside them trying to soak it up with a paper towel?”

“You would still be responsible!”

--

Bruce flinched.

“...I know…” he said softly, head falling down again. “...I'm prepared for that. I just…”

His voice cracked again.

“I knew some of them, Clark. They're my neighbors. They can't… they won't go to jail, even if I find proof, I can't…”

“...I can't think of how to get rid of them..”

--

… Clark finally landed in front of him.

He started to grasp at straws.

“Can’t you just tell them you’ll stay out of their way? Even though you won’t join them?”

--

Bruce looked up at him, exhausted. “...if I can't trust them to tell the truth about my parents, why should I trust them with my life when I know I'll be getting in their way?”

“I won't stop getting in their way.”

Control.

--

Clark was rubbing his hands together.

Nervous.

“I’ll protect you. I’ll be your bodyguard. Not even that Talon guy could scratch me, see?” He smiled, forced, and held out his arms.

Torn shirt and not a scratch underneath.

--

Bruce reached up and pulled Clark’s hand away from his stomach. Furious.

“He could've disemboweled you!”

--

“He didn’t!” Clark said. “I felt his claws and they were a little sharp but-- look!”

He tugged off his shirt and pointed at the barely visible red lines.

“It was nothing! I’ve been shot and it’s hurt more! I’ll be fine!”

He was getting desperate.

Begging his friend and pulling at straws to keep Bruce from joining them.

--

Bruce was staring at the lines, shaking.

“Clark,” he whispered. “I don't even know if I can trust Alfred’s not one of them right now, okay?”

--

… Clark gripped his shirt, holding it against his chest as he looked down at Bruce.

He had no other excuses.

“Don’t.” Is all he could manage, barely a whisper.

--

...Bruce felt like the bathroom all over again. Staring up at Clark. Doing something dumb and heart-pounding to try and feel like it made a difference.

“...are you worried about their victims?” he asked, voice soft. “Or about me?”

--

“Both.” Clark said, then quieter; “You.”

--

...Bruce lifted his hands and ran his shaking fingers across Clark’s cheek.

“...save the bias for journalism,” he murmured, leaning in for another kiss. “I'm not going right now.”

--

Clark leaned into Bruce’s hand, reaching up to cup it under his own against his face while leaning down into the kiss.

“I don’t want you to go at all.” He whispered, sounding like he was about to cry. “Don’t do it.”

… But he had no alternatives to suggest.

--

...Bruce didn't, either. Not if he wanted to stay in Gotham.

He could run, but he was under aged, without access to his parents’ fortune. Underage and famous. He wouldn't get far like that.

He could stay and make Clark be his bodyguard, but he didn't want to be responsible for the pain when one day Clark failed.

And god, he couldn't believe the Owls would let them walk away after that exit. That Bruce could lie and say he wouldn't get in the way would ultimately just buy temporary time.

If he wanted to stay in Gotham right now with Clark, he had to try to appease them somehow.

And they'd only wanted one thing.

(Always. Always, someone wanted something from him.)

So Bruce kissed back. Harder. Hands betraying his nerves as he gripped onto Clark’s unyielding arms.

“They could lock you up,” Bruce said, shaky. “I won't let them…”

--

Clark breathed heavier into the kiss, trying not to cry as his hands found Bruce's hips and gripped them with a gentleness that betrayed his strength.

“They don't have to know it's me. You said I could hide my face. They-- they don't need to know--”

Begging.

--

“I was calling your name….” Bruce whispered. “Please, Clark, I can’t lose someone again…”

--

Clark finally choked out a sob and wrapped his arms around Bruce, pulling him closer and shoving his face into Bruce's neck.

“I can deal with them, I--”

He had nothing left to offer.

--

…

Bruce just held him. Tight.

...he felt cold and empty inside. But he didn’t let go.

“...I found them. I have to try and control them…”

He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince anymore.

--

Clark cried. He cried into Bruce's neck and held him tight and didn't know what else to say. He didn't know what to do.

So while he had him, he just held onto Bruce and didn't let go.

--

…

Bruce didn’t know how long they were down there. Or how long Clark cried.

He was numb again. And all he knew was the arms were around him, and he was holding Clark tight as the sun went down, and soon, the only light was his lamplight, without even the flicker of stars.

“...it’s late…” he said, quiet. Tired and getting hungry and sore.

--

Clark had barely stopped holding him since they got down in the cave.

“... What do you wanna do?” He asked quietly.

Where were they supposed to go?

--

…

He didn’t know.

“...let’s get food,” he said, “and something to hide your face with. ...And then we should go.”

--

… Clark sniffed and nodded, finally peeling himself from Bruce as he tugged his tattered shirt back on.

“I'm not leaving you tonight.” He said, wanting to be sure Bruce knew that.

--

… “Thanks,” Bruce said, voice a little hoarse.

“...I’m going to need your help getting back up the well…”

...he stepped in close again, for a different sort of hug as they got up.

--

Clark nodded again and put his arms around Bruce, flying him up out of the well and setting him on his feet in the dying grass around it.

--

...it was still dark out, but not as dark as the cave.

In the far distance, there was a silhouette. Taller than the trees or fields around them. A house: massive and spired.

In front of it were flashing lights. Police cars.

...Bruce watched on with trepidation.

“...they reported me missing,” he said.

--

“... If Alfred were part of the Owls do you think he would’ve reported you?” Clark asked.

--

“Why wouldn't he?” Bruce asked, not sure. “There's not a clean cop in Gotham.”

--

Clark just sighed and took Bruce’s word for it. “... Whaddya wanna do?”

--

“...interstate gas station?” he suggested.

Food. Something to hide Clark’s face. New shirt.

They didn't need much.

--

“Okay,” he said. “Want me to fly us there or…?”

--

He nodded.

“....can't get out of the manor grounds, otherwise…”

Fenced in. Worse than school.

Fenced in everywhere but Kansas.

--

Clark offered his arms. “Just tell me what direction to go in.”

--

He would.

It was easy to spot the interstate at night, and the little clusters of buildings that sprung up along it. And--

And it was so different from the daytime flight. Bruce found his breath catching as they flew over the lights of outskirts and the rivers below.

--

Even Clark looked around as they flew.

“... Never been over a city before.”

But he didn’t linger, not like he had on their way there when Bruce kissed him.

He landed somewhere they wouldn’t be seen by the gas station.

--

Bruce stripped off his coat once they landed and handed it to Clark, to help cover his torn shirt.

“Can you see okay without your glasses?” he asked.

--

“I’m a little far-sighted.” Clark said, tugging on the jacket.

It was kinda tight.

He pulled off his glasses and held them out to Bruce, assuming he wanted them for a disguise.

--

Yeah, he did.

He put on the glasses and relaxed a little.

… “It’ll do, hopefully.”

They looked at least sort of different, and he didn’t think the Court would look at this one random gas station, of all places, right?

Right.

--

Hopefully.

Clark followed him into the gas station.

The attendant didn’t even look up.

--

Good.

Bruce grabbed some food and a shirt, and a ski mask (bad winters) and gestured for Clark to pick something to eat out, too.

--

Clark grabbed a gross gas station hotdog and a soda for himself.

He would pay too with the money Bruce gave him, just in case the guy behind the counter did recognize Bruce.

--

That was fine.

Routine. Habit.

Bruce just stood behind people while they operated for him.

He wondered if owls did that.

“...wanna eat on the curb?” he asked as they left.

--

“Sure,” Clark said, walking out with him.

He found a spot that didn’t look as dirty and sat down. Pulled out his hotdog to start eating.

…

“You feelin’ okay?”

--

…

Bruce opened the sandwich he’d taken from the freezer section and took a bite.

“...I dunno if I’m feeling anything really right now.”

--

… Clark nodded and took a bite from his hotdog.

“Yeah. I dunno what I’m feelin’ either right now.”

--

…

Bruce reached over and tried to find Clark's hand. To squeeze it.

“...I'm sorry. Please don't hate me for this.”

--

Clark looked down at their hands and gave Bruce’s a squeeze back. “I won’t-- I--”

He felt his eyes get hot again and tried not to cry.

“... Just promise me you’ll get out. If you find a chance. Just get out.”

--

...Bruce nodded.

“...I will. I just…”

…

He curled up a bit again, like he'd done on the bus.

“...All I can think of is leaving Gotham. And I don't want to.”

He'd told Clark he did.

That he was going to run.

But he wasn't going to be chased.

--

“You can’t do that until you’re 18 anyway, right?” Clark said, still holding his hand.

--

… “not without permission,” Bruce said, swallowing hard, and glancing back at the way they'd come.

--

Clark sighed and looked down at his hotdog.

He wasn’t hungry despite everything.

…

“What’d we do after this? Are you going back to them?”

--

...Bruce nodded.

“...see if I have something they want,” he said.

Just think of it like economics.

--

“... Do you want me to be there with you? Or do you not think…”

Would they not accept him if the guy who plowed into their court was beside him?

--

Bruce tried to smile reassuringly, but it fell flat, and he let it wilt.

“...I want you there, yeah, but… I don't think it'll be a good idea.”

--

… “I’ll be close.” Clark said, face turning serious.

“I’ll be close and if they do anything I’ll see it and come.” His eyes looked over to meet Bruce’s.

--

…he'd see it, there.

The fear that never left Bruce, dragged to the surface.

The relief that he wouldn't be alone.

He nodded.

“...okay. I trust you.”

--

Clark smiled, even if it didn't last very long.

He held Bruce's hand while they ate and wondered if his friend would be able to stay himself even after joining the Owls.

--

(It wouldn't be so bad to stay someone else, as long as no one else died.)

Bruce finished his sandwich. Threw the wrapper away from where they sat.

And he waited, quietly, for Clark to finish, too, watching the stars out here that came out more than in middle Gotham.

...why did it feel like his last night?

He wasn't going to get himself locked in that little holding room forever--

--

It really did feel like Bruce’s last night, even if in theory they would accept him and… little would change in their day-to-day lives.

When they were both done eating it would take a lot of strength to stand up.

But they both had to. If this was going to have an end. They had to both stand up.

And Clark would have to watch Bruce walk into the fire.

--

It wasn't Aristotle who said it, but Bruce couldn't remember anyone else right now.

Bravery isn't the lack of fear, but the confrontation of it.

...but all the same, he wished he'd been a little bolder-feeling as Clark brought him back to the entrance of the shaft, and he made his slow descent down, leaving the upperworld behind.

He dusted himself off without much thought once he slid from the broken wall into the spacious chamber of red carpet and pillars, and looked around slowly.

“...hello? Is anyone still here?”

--

There was no one there when he arrived. The hole hadn’t been cleaned up from Clark’s entrance, but Bruce would know he was being watched.

--

Bruce could feel it. Prickles on his skin.

Familiar. Being watched.

Bluff. Hands on his sides. Impatient.

“I can hear you breathing. You may as well come out.”

--

… His bluff went unanswered.

It would be another minute before he would hear footsteps.

Talon walked around the corner to face him.

“Follow me.”

--

...at least it got him in the light.

...he didn't let himself look back at the hole he'd crawled down through.

He followed Talon.

--

Talon lead him to a smaller room. Opened the door to a lavish office with wood and soft red carpet that matched the rest of their underground facility. The Judge was sat behind a large desk.

“Ah, he returns.” He said, standing up.

--

“What, can't use the prodigal son line twice?” Bruce asked, strolling in with his head held higher than before. Eyes sharp again.

He was so fucking aware of the Talon at his back.

“...what you said about my parents. Was it true?”

--

“Oh I think the prodigal son title is only saved for those who are… eligible in joining our little organization.” The Judge said, and as soon as he was finished the Talon was grabbing Bruce’s neck.

--

Bruce lunged forward for the Judge’s mask as the word ‘eligible’ died, but was caught mid-air, choking.

One hand tried to pry the fingers off his windpipe in animal desperation.

The other grabbed for the Talon’s mask instead.

--

The Talon’s mask was cloth, attached to the rest of his suit. Bruce could feel it ripping a little at the clasps by his neck. He pushed Bruce down on the floor and grabbed for one of the sharp throwing knives strapped to his sides.

“I don’t know what it was you had come grab you the first time, but you’re really a fool for coming here again. I’m afraid our offer has expired.” The Judge said, rounding the desk so he could get closer.

But not too close.

--

Bruce didn't let go.

He needed at least one face.

One way for it to not be everyone he knew--

But he still glared up at the Judge, choking and struggling on the floor.

“Can't negotiate-- if it's fair--huh?” he choked out.

Clark was watching for him.

“You'll wish you had me--”

--

He’d get one face, the fabric eventually tearing off to reveal… no one he knew.

A nobody, their face generic and plain save for a scar across their lip. They weren’t a part of The Elite.

“Won’t it be a shame when your butler finds you tomorrow morning, bled out in your bathtub from slit wrists?” The Judge said, and Talon pinned down one of Bruce’s arms with his leg.

--

His heart started to pound a little faster.

The pinned arm was shaking. He'd given his jacket over at the gas station, and though he'd returned the glasses he hadn't taken the jacket back--

The Judge could see the scars on his arm.

Where was Clark?

“That doesn't even make sense for him to find me in the manor--” he said, not sure why. Adrenaline? Fear?

Clark said he'd be watching--

--

“No? It doesn’t make sense that Bruce Wayne, overwhelmed with all that has happened to him, would run home and--”

The Judge never finished his sentence.

The wall exploded in pieces of wood and drywall and the weight on Bruce was yanked off him.

--

Oh god. Oh god.

Bruce was up on his feet and running, tackling into the Judge with every one of his 150 pounds, ripping the mask off his face.

--

The Judge was trying to fight him off, but it was clear he was no fighter, and soon enough Bruce had the mask ripped off.

He would recognize the face behind it. A Galavan, teeth grit and hands reaching to grab Bruce by the throat and get him off or choke him to death himself.

Behind him, through yet another wall Clark had crashed through, there was heat.

And screaming.

--

He had a face.

He had a face.

And he reeled back and hit Galavan as hard as he could across the face, until his knuckles hurt.

But the screaming stopped him from--

From keeping it up.

He shoved away, still gripping the mask, suddenly thinking of he burnt off their arms.

--

The Judge wasn’t moving. Alive, but unconscious from Bruce’s onslaught.

But behind him, through another wall into a whole separate room, Clark stood heaving with his hands over his eyes, and a smoking Talon at his feet, unmoving.

--

Bruce ran towards him. Shaking.

“Clark..?” he whispered, too quiet to even hear himself, scared that there might still be someone around.

He knelt beside Clark, rubbing his back, trying to wrap an arm around him.

Trying to pull his eyes from the Talon’s body.

He suddenly wished he hadn't removed the mask.

Maybe he wouldn't have to see the dead eyes. The same glassy gaze.

The--

The…

Oh god.

“Get up,” Bruce said, voice speaking into a break. “Get up, there's something wrong--”

--

Clark wore the ski mask Bruce had gotten him. The ski mask and the bandana around his mouth. Around the eyes was burning and still red with cinders as he tried to breathe and get to his feet.

“He won’t-- he won’t hurt you again--” Clark mumbled out.

Rationalizing it in his brain.

--

Bruce knew what dead bodies looked like.

He grabbed Clark by the shoulder, trying to haul him upright faster. “Shut up, get up, shh--”

The hand was moving.

“He's not dead!”

--

Clark’s eyes went down to the body.

Moving.

When it looked like that.

His eyes went wide and he felt himself stop breathing.

Before he knew it he was grabbing Bruce again to fly them out.

--

Bruce didn't protest.

Not at all.

He was already clinging tight to Clark, shaking, with the mask still clutched in one hand against his chest.

“M-manor,” Bruce said. “K-keep your hat on.”

He had to know now, now that plan A was spent.

If Alfred was with them, he needed to know, before Alfred got word of what had happened.

--

Clark flew.

He flew out of the hole he had made into the room and towards the massive hole he had made from the sewers.

But then he paused.

“I- I should destroy this place…”

Even if he didn’t know how.

--

Bruce turned, shaking, though not with cold.

“We don't kill,” he breathed, gripping Clark tighter. “We’re not killers.”

--

Clark looked at him, mouth tight, and nodded.

He flew them out of the hole.

Out of the sewer.

They went to the Manor.

--

...Bruce had stopped shaking by the time they touched down.

The police cars were gone, now.

It was late in the night.

Everything inside him had gotten carved out and scooped from him, leaving a bare shell that didn't even feel scared anymore as he rang the manor doorbell.

“Don't let him see you right away. Not until we know,” he said numbly, still holding the smooth mask between his fingers.

--

“Okay.” Clark said quietly, dropping Bruce on his feet and then flying away and off to the side.

Bruce would tell him if it was fine to come down. And if things started going south… he would be there.

--

Bruce took a deep breath and waited.

...a few moments later, the door opened.

An older man with a thin layer of hair on the top of his head and a thinning mustache opened the door--

--and nearly fell to his knees, pulling Bruce into a hug, to complete shock on Bruce's face.

“Master Bruce! You've had me worried sick!”

--

Clark waited where he was, hovering up and to the right out of immediate sight.

(No one ever looked up.)

He wanted to believe Alfred was genuine, if not because that sounded very sincere but also… he didn’t want Bruce to lose his guardian too.

--

Bruce didn't think he could handle losing another person.

He held stiff in the hug until Alfred pulled away, asking, “where have you been?”

“...I needed to get out,” Bruce says, exhaustion in his voice despite everything. “...and I found something. Do you know what it is…?”

Alfred seemed a little taken aback by the question, but was listening. “That isn't… an explanation, Master Bruce, for what caused this wild goose chase…”

But Bruce ignored him and stretched his arm out first.

Letting Alfred see the cracked mask.

--

… Clark wasn’t sure if this was a safe way to tell. Alfred could lie. He could lie and say he didn’t have any idea what it was.

Even so Clark paid attention to Alfred heartbeat.

It sometimes sounded different when people lied, and sometimes he could tell.

Only sometimes.

--

Maybe it wasn't. But at least Bruce could see Alfred’s face. Could watch his pupils dilate and the sternness of his mouth.

(And Alfred’s heart rate would not change.

It was already beating like Bruce’s. Like it was already in a waking nightmare.)

“It-- it appears to be a replica of one of your father’s artifacts, Master Bruce, but what does that have to do with--”

(Bruce lost his grip on the mask.)

--

Oh no.

Oh no oh no oh no.

Despite being told to stay out of sight Clark found himself starting to lower down whether he caught Alfred’s attention or not.

“Bruce…”

--

He did catch Alfred’s attention.

And Alfred caugh Bruce’s arm, tugging him behind himself defensively and his other arm reaching for something in his suit.

“Who’s there?!”

Bruce grabbed the elbow of the arm in Alfred’s suit, trying to not let him pull it out.

“It's fine! He's a friend!”

--

Clark stopped where he was, putting his hands up in a show of surrender.

Not that flying eight feet off the ground really helped him appear harmless.

Or the ski mask.

--

...Alfred was indeed staring right at him, floating eight feet off the ground in a ski mask.

...but somehow, his heartbeat slowed a little at Bruce’s insistence, and he released whatever he'd been trying to take from inside his suit.

“...you always did have the most interesting taste in friends,” Alfred said, straight-faced.

“...” he looked back at the sixteen year old still grabbing onto his arm.

Even with something like this, it seemed like a long time since Bruce let himself be touched.

“...very well. Both of you. Inside. I want some kind of explanation before bed tonight, but we can't very well do it out here.”

--

… Clark hovered a little lower.

“Is-- is this okay?” He asked uneasily.

Did he trust Alfred?

--

Bruce still looked like he might shake apart.

But he nodded.

He hadn't seen anything but confusion in Alfred’s eyes at the mask.

The only other way to tell would be hard evidence that was surely hidden away or-- or mind reading, maybe.

But right now he just wanted to fall over.

--

“... Okay.”

Clark reached up to pull off the ski mask and bandana.

“Sorry for the startle, sir.”

--

Alfred’s eyes softened a little when he saw the youth under the mask.

“...nothing worse than what I've already been through tonight, young man. Now get inside, the both of you.”

He ushered them in, and locked the door behind them.

--

Clark finally touched down beside Bruce as they walked inside and looked around.

Even the entrance was huge and ridiculous and nothing he had ever seen before.

“Wow.”

--

There was a chandelier in the entryway, flanked by two large split-section marble staircases. There were bright, long carpets and healthy plants on podiums, growing long and beginning to blossom for spring.

This was where Bruce lived, whenever he went home for a long, lonely break.

But Alfred ushered them off to the side, rather than up the split staircase, into a little wooden side door that led to a modest kitchen. It was more modern than the entryway, with industrial sinks and stoves, but Alfred simply used one small burner to put a kettle of water on it, and gestured for Clark and Bruce to take a seat at a small wooden table in the side of the room, where Alfred usually ate.

There were only two chairs. Never any guests to fill them.

“Now,” Alfred said, starting to prepare two mugs for tea. “What is going on? Why aren't you at school?”

--

Clark glanced over at Bruce, then to Alfred.

They were trusting him, right?

“He-- I don’t think he can go back to school, sir.”

--

Alfred’s face grew a little more grave, and Bruce knew what he was thinking, and it curled inside him.

“I didn't fight anyone,” he mumbled, indignant. Hands clenched. “I found the Court of Owls.”

The graveness left Alfred’s face for the concern of someone who thought an argument had been long, long over, and who'd just had it opened up again at the worst possible moment. “Master Bruce, we’ve been over this, the court isn't real.”

--

Clark jumped to his friend's defense.

“They are! We've been digging into it and then they popped out of nowhere and kidnapped him! They threatened him! Tried to kill him!”

--

Alfred watched him, on one hand accepting that this boy had been flying a few minutes ago. On the other hand…

“Master Bruce?”

…

Without making eye contact, Bruce started to tug up his shirt sleeves.

Tug down his collar.

He had freshly-formed bruises ringing around the outside of his arms from where Talon had grappled him and held him still-- and two distinct finger marks on his neck, from where he'd been grabbed and shoved down on the floor, when they'd wanted to cut his wrists.

“Gracious--” Alfred was already leaning in to hover and get a closer look.

--

“... He's not making it up.” Clark said, quieter this time. He watched as Alfred inspected the bruises on Bruce's body.

“I heard him calling for help. They have a huge thing--” he gestured with his hands, “--under Gotham. Like a big underground mansion, and they tried to recruit him, and, so, I busted him out but we knew they'd just come back for him so--” He was rambling now.

--

“Please,” Alfred said, looking away from Bruce, holding a gentle hand to Clark. “Calm yourself. You’ve both had a long night.”

...he slips up and away to fill the two mugs with hot water, and sets them before the two boys steep.

He has no chair to sit on, but so he leans forward on the table, frowning, and looks between them both.

“Tell me everything, from the beginning.”

...and so Bruce does.

How they'd picked up looking for the owls again after the murder in fall. How Bruce had been on his way to the library when he was knocked unconscious. How he woke in a room with people wearing those masks, inviting him to culminate his interest, that they'd locked him away to ‘think about it’ and he'd called for Clark, who came--

But that's where his ability to keep his voice steady stops.

“They said… they said my parents were one of them.”

And he looks at the mask, still lying on the kitchen table between him and Clark, where Alfred had set it after picking it up and ushering them in.

--

Clark fell quiet and let Bruce do all the talking. When his voice started to shake Clark moved a hand out and…

… and he wanted to take Bruce’s hand and squeeze it, but he didn’t want to do that in front of someone he didn’t know. Boys didn’t do that with one another.

So instead he put his hand gently on Bruce’s shoulder.

He didn’t think to ask if Alfred knew if Bruce’s parents were or not, he didn’t know how long he had been around, but he wished someone could tell Bruce they weren’t at least for his friend’s peace of mind.

--

Under Alfred’s gaze, Bruce--

Bruce tugged away from Clark’s hand. Like he'd been burnt.

Alfred didn't find anything strange about that, even though he wished he could.

But he didn't try to touch Bruce either as he knelt down in front of him, face stern.

“Your parents would have loathed any sort of group such as that.”

“You recognized the mask.”

“And I can think of a million reasons why it is a coincidence,” Alfred said. “And surely you could as well, if you weren't exhausted and strung-out right now. So we will forgive that, won't we?”

--

Ah. Okay. Even that was too much, he guessed.

Clark pulled his hand away and set it in his lap, his chest feeling tight and his stomach turning.

“They probably said it so you’d join.” Clark offered, hoping it helped some.

--

Alfred gave Clark a small, approving nod in thanks.

Bruce was just trying to keep the knot down in his chest.

“...right,” he said, as if it hurt to say anything. The doubt had still been put in his mind. “...We hid to find out what to do. And we went back after a while.”

“Why in the world would you do that?” Alfred asked, voice soft, but accepting the continuation of the story.

--

“... Didn’t… think they’d stop trying to recruit him.” Clark added, his hands folded and resting in his lap.

--

“And?” Alfred said.

“...they stopped,” Bruce said softly. “But they might be coming after us, now.”

...Alfred could be a target too, if he wasn't with the owls.

Even if all they really wanted was to make him find Bruce and I looked like a suicide.

--

“We might’ve made them kinda mad.” Clark admitted, then cleared his throat.

He had, really. Bruce had just called for him, it was his fault they had multiple huge holes in their hideout now. And… whatever it was that had happened to Talon.

He thought he had killed him, and he went into the situation being okay with that if it meant saving his friend, but after what he saw…

…

--

(Bruce wondered if it was the first time Clark saw a human body)

(If he knew what it smelled like)

Alfred watched them with a grim face, and said, “I see.”

He sighed stood again, placing his hands on their shoulders. One on Clark’s, and the other on Bruce's, who twitched but didn't pull away.

“I'll be making some phone calls,” Alfred said. “Master Kent, I can't thank you enough for saving Bruce, but you've also put yourself in danger, unfortunately, in the process--”

“They don't know it was him,” Bruce said softly, and Alfred stopped speaking to look at him again. “...Galavan called him a ‘thing.’ A thing I summoned. They don't know.”

--

It still hurt. Being called a ‘thing’.

“Flying ‘n smashing through walls will do that. Heh.” Clark said, and he could feel a piece of himself die.

“I covered my face up so they didn’t know it was me.”

--

Alfred still wore a bit of a frown. Concerned. “Are you certain you could not be identified?”

“...we haven't even talked for two months,” Bruce admitted quietly. “...they don't have a reason to think he'd suddenly help me.”

--

Ah. Yeah. There was that too.

“... Yeah,” he admitted too. “I haven’t been working on the Court of Owls research for a long time now. Haven’t been talkin’ or… anythin’. Don’t think they would think I’d help, maybe. ‘N I tried to be as weird as possible so they didn’t think it was--”

Ugh.

Shit.

He rubbed the back of his head.

“So they wouldn’t think a boring kid from Kansas could do any ‘a that.”

--

….

Alfred gave him a nod of approval.

“That was wise of you. Ignorance is often the best defense,” he said.

He removed his hand from Bruce and clapped Clark’s shoulders instead. “You've done more than could have ever been expected of you, tonight. Thank you for that. You can leave the rest to me.”

And there was something steely and familiar--like Bruce’s--in Alfred's eyes.

A butler, but still someone with a hard will, ready to defend his ward. And confident of doing it.

“For now, what may be best is if you continue to play on their ignorance, and make it seem as if nothing has changed. Do you understand?”

--

“It was Bruce’s idea…” Clark said with a little smile.

(Hide your face. Be so alien they don’t look for a human.)

“Um, yeah, but--”

He looked at Bruce.

“I said I’d stay with him.”

--

Bruce’s eyes fell down, and he couldn't meet Clark’s gaze again, like he knew what was coming.

“That's very noble,” Alfred said. “But it may place you at greater risk, which I'm sure is the last thing Master Bruce wants. Go back to school. Pretend you've just gotten locked out of your dorm and came back late. Bruce and I will spend the night in the safe room and be out of Gotham by morning.”

--

“O-Out of Gotham?”

Clark felt something hard in his throat.

Like he was just told he would never see Bruce again.

--

Bruce said nothing.

“There has just been an attempt on his life,” Alfred said, still calm. Like this was normal. Like it made sense. “It is only prudent we go lie low a while where another cannot be easily made.”

--

Clark’s bright blue eyes were bouncing between the two of them.

“But… you’ll be back?”

--

Alfred looked like he wanted to say no--

“Yes,” Bruce said. Not looking up. His voice was still firm. Hands clasped tightly together in his lap. “...if nothing else, I’ll come see you in Kansas. Okay?”

--

Clark looked at him like he was about to cry again.

“D-Do you know when?”

--

Alfred had stepped back, looking between the two of them, unsure.

“...sometime in summer?” Bruce asked.

...he looked up at Alfred.

Alfred looked back, eyes dark and sad again.

“I’m sure that can be made possible, Master Bruce,” he said softly.

--

Clark wiped at his eyes even though he hadn’t started crying yet.

“... Guess you can’t tell me where it is you’re plannin’ to go, huh?”

--

“We will be in contact with your parents at least, if it seems safe,” Alfred reassured him.

--

Clark took a deep breath.

“Okay.”

He sounded like he was trying to gear himself up for something, and he was.

Gearing himself up to leave.

He pushed off the counter to stand out of his chair.

Hovered there a moment before looking at Bruce.

“You’ll yell if something happens?”

--

Bruce snorted, head still hung.

“Yeah. I will.”

….he was still being protected.

“...take care of Harvey. He’s not going to be doing okay.”

--

“... What should I tell him?”

--

“...you don’t know what happened with me. You were taking a break from studying and fell asleep. Lost track of time,” Bruce said. “...the news will pick up the rest.”

Clark always got the news.

--

Another deep breath.

“Okay.”

…

He wanted to hug him, but judging how he reacted from just the touch with Alfred around he figured that wouldn’t work out well.

“G-... Good luck.” Was all he could manage before starting to walk out of the kitchen.

--

...Alfred glanced back at Bruce, still quiet and head-hung, and said, softly, “I’ll show you to the doorway.”

He followed Clark out of the kitchen.

--

Clark stopped a little so Bruce could catch up, but still didn’t touch him as they walked out of the kitchen and back towards the front door.

And even then he didn’t reach for him, even if he wanted to.

“... You’d better call.” He managed, voice shaking.

--

That was fine.

Clark wasn’t Bruce.

Alfred had seen the boy reach for physical comfort.

So he reached out, instead, placing a gentle hand on Clark’s back.

“We will,” he said. “And he will be fine. And he wouldn’t have gotten this far without your help. So please: take care of yourself a while, now.”

“What you can do is very impressive. But you can’t be older than Bruce. Be careful out there.”

--

Clark cleared his throat and nodded.

He would try.

…

He didn’t look at Alfred or the manor as he stepped forward and pushed off, a burst of air being the only thing that broke the silence as he flew back to school.

Clark listened to Bruce’s heartbeat get quieter and quieter.

--

...it would finally, fully fade as he returned to Gotham Academy, far out of the three-mile limit of his hearing.

…

Alfred would shuffle Bruce into the saferoom. Phone the police. Inform them that Bruce had been located. That there had, indeed, been another kidnapping and it seemed, this time, a threat on his life. That he was taking matters now on his own.

He gave a description of a man matching Galavan, but expected nothing to come out of it.

He called the school to berate them shortly of letting Bruce be kidnapped on their grounds. That Bruce would not be returning after such incompetence.

...he called the airport, and purchased two tickets, and packed their bags.

By morning, as promised, they would be gone, leaving behind everything in Bruce’s dorm room and a sweep of press activity come the breaking day.

--

The hardest part was trying to act like nothing had happened.

He had to lie to Harvey, spin the story he had fallen asleep and got locked out like Bruce had suggested, but had no idea what happened to him.

Lying to the press was somehow… harder.

Maybe it was because of peer pressure, or maybe because he wanted to be a journalist someday, but having to pretend he didn’t know and even telling them he hadn’t spoken much to Bruce in over two months was hard.

He was crying less about a broken heart and more through worry over what might have happened to his friend. Clark knew that if he yelled now, wherever he was, he wouldn’t be able to hear him.

But that didn’t stop him from listening anyway.

…

He helped Harvey as much as he could, tried to be some sort of support for him and at least help him academically. It was just them now. The room was empty. And quiet. And he hated it.

But he just had to breathe and get through it. Get to summer.

Look forward to that phone call or visit.

--

Harvey wasn’t doing great in the aftermath. Bruce hadn’t been wrong.

He’d been… happy, earlier in the year. Reserved as it was. He’d been doing okay with Bruce, and Tommy, and getting to know Clark-- and having three whole friends.

Now, the two he he’d had for almost three years were both stripped away in just a few months time, and summer was coming.

And he had no time to let himself break down.

Where Clark cried, Harvey grew distant and shut down anything that wasn’t the polite tour guide who showed new students their rooms and introduced families to a place that would beat their children for making noise after-hours.

…

It was a good two weeks before the media attention died down.

…

He’d go back to Kansas without hearing a word from either Bruce or Alfred, and start the summer alone.