#I do have some ideas for a fic not gonna lie but yk for me aot ended when they saw the ocean for the first time

[twpsyn-who]

"Why did you choose to join the Scouts, anyway?" it was a question that has been bugging Stiles for awhile now, ever since that night.

"I mean, don't get me wrong-" he began before Derek could get any words out, "- but you never made any indication that you would join Scouts. It doesn't make sense, you're in the top ten. The Big Ten. You know, the elite ones who get the secret third option?? Why not join Lydia and finally live an easy life? If I were you- like, with your life story and everything not just your body and flexibility which, by the way, should be illegal- I would have chosen that. Give myself a break, you know?"

It wasn't until then that Derek regarded Stiles with his attention. There was something in his eyes, an intensity that Stiles would sometimes catch glimpses of any now and then but it has never been pushed so forward into his hands. He could barely breathe while looking into them, getting lost in the forest that was hiding inside Derek Hale's eyes.

"Everyone I care about is going there." the answer came so nonchalant from him, like the confession wasn't life changing. But Stiles found his answer not in his friend's words, but while finding his way out of Derek's eyes.

"Because you're going" it went unsaid, locked deep inside the greens and the browns. In the way the eyes softened for a moment when he said 'care' and tried to break contact on 'going there' before thinking better of it. In the little frown while saying 'everyone', like that wasn't the right word but he didn't- or couldn't?- say anything else.

And Stiles? Didn't know what to do with that confession. With the knowledge that Derek gave up everything just to stay stuck with skinny, defendles, most likely to end up Titan food during his very first expedition outside the walls, Stiles.

Because Stiles was ready to die just for an eclipse of freedom, but was he ready to take Derek with him?

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Thinking about young nightmare and his friendgroup...doing dumb shit....

I saw this a lot that nightmare would be the responsible and completely mature teenager that knows everything(though i havent seen it a lot now, but i also dont read a lot of nightmare centred fics because i get nit picky about it) which kinda gives me the ick i cant lie 😔

I've been thinking about them a lot recently, like nightmare probably got pulled into a bunch of dumb shit and stuff he would've never done if it weren't for his friends

I'm talking vandalism, and not the malicious kind like destroying buildings that 5 century old nightmare does, i'm talking grafitti and accidentally breaking a tree while breaking in a school because they were gonna prank the history teacher. OR when they're a little older drinking games

This man has definitely done some dumb shit, just because he is book smart and immortal doesnt mean he wasnt a teenager and young adult. He definitely both fucked up and has had some embarrassing moments.

I'm also just thinking about them having sleepovers and being in a giant cuddle pile because nightmare is cold, and him just accidentally hitting them with his tendril thingies

Sometimes its not an accident though, shouldn't have made a comment about an embarrassing moment for him 😋

Also just thinking about him and his lover when they were young, like they definitely had some fights and have said dumb stuff. They always made up, either by themselves or like that one time they got locked in a linen closet and forced to make up by the others.

Also thinking about how nightmare is an unknown creature to them, they have never seen a walking skeleton before let alone one covered in...something and tendrils out his back. Also just thinking about him and his lover exploring eachother because well, they're curious, and young so they do dumb shit and accidentally fuck up nightmares hand for a second while trying to figure out how his hands work

Whoops?

Or just nightmare being confused about humans, and why they are warm, why they have eyelashes and stuff. He knows they do, he has seen humans before in the village but he could never ask why they had that. So having someone explain it to him is probably nice and vice versa.

Also thinking about how nightmare is cold so in the summer all of them are frequently seen draping themselves over nightmare while eating icecream. And nightmare is still under a blanket.

Honestly just giving nightmare the teen experience because dream wont be able to because he was in the stone, and seeing almost everyone around you have had that experience, even your own brother must be..well something

Also yk how you make a dumb mistake in your teens and then discourage others not to do that?

Nightmare encourages dream to do the same embarrassing shit he did when young because he thinks it funny. Schadenfreude is something nightmare is very much familiar with

Also probably to make himself feel a little bit better that even his 'perfect' (according to the villagers) brother has embarrassing moments too

You and I are similar in not being able to read many favorite character-centric fics due to being nitpicky.

Although in my case there’s very rarely any Killer centric fics that isn’t just Killer sucking off Nightmare or Cross or simping over someone—usually Nightmare.

(Strange how this fandom used to hypersexulize killer by making him a horny lustful pervert 24/7 and infantilize him at the same time. And still kinda does. Though thankfully people are moving away from that, and i actually find much better fics for me by writers (and artists) over here on Tumblr.) (I had to prevent myself from ranting about killers potential in fics multiple times 🙏)

Anyway! I love that idea, especially the idea of him and his lover exploring eachother and just being really dumb teens. The idea of Nightmare having a teen experience and a life before all the King of Negativity, cult leader labor trafficker kidnapper torturer stuff.

It would be kinda funny and interesting if Nightmare’s lover actually had a red soul—and he kinda attaches to Killer for that reason and sees a lot of them in him (similar to how Chara saw only the “better” version of Asriel/Flowey in Killer, or how Papyrus and the whole multiverse only saw Sans, and keeps with the theme that no one but Color ever saw Killer for Killer.)

And like, Nightmare may or may not have any of those types of feelings for Killer—but he is possessive, because Killer reminds him of what he lost, and he is useful.

And also the idea of Dream having lost out on his childhood/teen hood and having to spend it just training and preparing to become the Guardian of Positivity and keeping the Balance, protecting the Multiverse, fighting/saving his brother, is all so sad. Nightmare got to live and mature naturally (without his family of course, and likely being hated and feared and isolated wherever he went), whereas Dream was forced to grow fast to basically be a child soldier.

{ @brokenramunebottle }

[zappsbrannigan]

After seeing your post about your Frapp fic, I just wanted to say hi and welcome back!

As a multi shipper, Frapp is definitely one of my favs, and it's so hard to find good content for it in recent years but I've always enjoyed your art of them so it's nice to see someone write for this ship as well, yk? That said, would you ever be willing to take Frapp requests in the future for writing, or would you just prefer to draw?

Also, since you're interested in getting back into the fandom in general, are you excited for the new episodes coming out? I thought we got a lot of good Zapp content last year, so I'm excited to see more of him in the newer episodes fr - tbh tho I'm just glad to see one of my favorite shows get more content, Zapp and Fry being cute was just a bonus lol

Not gonna lie anon, read your message made me me tear a bit of the joy, cus yeah like nearly 8 years without really doing Futurama stuff or anything serious even wantin a complete distance from the show/fandom. Time sure flies and one changes as person, right now my priorities or interests are different (now I’m more into Jojo’s what pretty much helped me a lot and VNs fanart, also in this time ive gotten an own place, more job/art opportunities as such met my actual gf irl like twice! among a lot of stuff more) but me havin a sweet spot for Zapp and Frapp will never change, they are like part of my personality lol.

Sadly my feelings torwards the show arent the most positive, well since season 7 i feel it went downhill so i was very skeptical about this outgoing season...and I was right , I wish it was better but I really enjoyed like 3 or 4 episodes ( Zapp gets cancelled, the kifs episode, the momazon’s one also the christmas one) hey, is better than nothing! Also I’m currently re watching the show and I’m on S2 so far.

So, yeah I really want to re build the frapp kingdom B) isn’t gonna be easy but I’ve gotten some inspo and mood to do it! (As i mentioned I draw jojos and umineko nowdays is what brings the bread to the table...but between commissions and merch stuff i will draw frapp/futu stuff perhaps) is such a criminally underrated ship that needs more than just 7 fics on Ao3...i wish i was able to write more since english isnt my first language so mostly I do fanart/comics, but I can provide headcanons and ideas and see if someone gets inspo as well.

I hope the next batch of episodes give me something...Anything. Seriously, I'd take an armpit! Especially there is gonna be an episode about Fry’s birthday party...Zapp it will be invited??  I drew ya this quickly anon! Have a wonderful day/night! I’m deeply thankful your your support, it motivates me to keep going! PD. yes i do accept requests owo

[rollercoasterwords]

i always find the discourse about wlw rep in the fandom sk interesting. like. i’m not gonna lie and say that it isn’t something i haven’t agreed with and gone “yeahh i do want wlw” “yeah omg why is there an attention on mlm”. it’s frustrating sometimes. esp when i was younger i distinctly remember being freshly new out of the closet (and by that time i was alr reading mlm ff) and then going to look for wlw and being kind of. disappointed. being older now, and interacting with a lot of other ppl, and understanding things more i wholeheartedly agree with ur points abt this. it’s true. it makes sense. but i can see why it’s so hard for ppl to grasp. and i understand why ppl are always always bringing up this discourse. before i had someone point it out to me in that sense like “look ff is different than the main media we consume” i hadn’t rly made that connection, bc to me, it was just media. it was entertainment, it was a silly little story just like so many id read before. and like. obviouslyyy now i see how while it may feel like it’s all the same to me, it’s not and it warrants a different type of behavior and attitude almost. but it can be hard to get to that point, even after someone points it out. and it can hard to let go to that way of thinking even after you know it’s “wrong” (i say this in quotes bc i don’t rly think it’s wrong per so but like. uninformed. or ignorant almost). there is a very fine line between the mainstream media we consume and ff but that line is hidden under layers and layers of ideas and concepts we alr have (and it’s hole only dug deeper with things like tik tok, where you see multiple multiple videos telling you every day that “we should demand more wlw rep” etc and considering it’s an app that doesn’t encourage ppl to think critically at allll) so yeah idk where i was rly going with this, but it’s just always smth i think abt when i see this discrouse.

and like side note, that’s not to say that there isn’t wlw there are so so so many great fics out there, and like you said, if you want it so desperately just simply do it yourself etc etc, but in the context of this, i think ppl cling to the idea of wanting a mega popular everyone’s read it this is the fic™️ fic for wlw abd they want the same kind of discourse and tik tok popularity and attention that mlm fics get yk? that’s why a lot of the times, the need snd incessant screaming for that drowns out the voices alr there.

yeah i mean i understand where it's coming from when people say they wish there was more "wlw rep" in the fandom and i do think that the people who act as if they need to Crusade for more wlw fic are mostly coming from a place of ignorance re: the way fanfic functions as an inherently different form of media from books, movies, etc. and i'm sure that part of it is coming from a place of wanting to feel like u can make some Real Change in the media u consume. however i do think a large part of it is also coming from wanting to virtue signal for brownie points and also knowing that stirring up controversy and acting as if u are Crusading on behalf of a Good Cause will get u more likes and views. and at the end of the day regardless of where it's coming from it is all equally annoying and equally harmful in the way that it seeks to drag fanfiction into some sort of internet profit economy. so! it's like...do i think that many of these people are just misinformed? yes, absolutely. but i will be honest and say that personally i am running out of sympathy for people who are just soooooo sad because they want more wlw fics simply because. well me myself and i when we looked around the marauders fandom and thought "hmm this could use some more lesbians" we simply wrote fanfiction about lesbians. and it's like well yes i understand that me myself and i are an immortal being with godlike power who is better than everyone but these people could still at least TRY to get on my level like c'mon now....this is perhaps one of the only forms of media where u actually have direct control over what "representation" u can find. and complaining that "there's no good wlw fic" is insulting to everyong who writes good wlw fics. not very #feminist methinks!!!

also to ur sidenote--i think this is so true! in my little foray into the tiktok comments on all these discourse videos over the last like week or so i have seen over and over and over again people going "we need an atyd but for the girls!!!" and it's like....why. PAUSE for one second. rewind. think about why u feel that it is necessary for there to be One Big Viral Fic in order for a ship to Officially Have Representation. what does that say about the way you engage with fandom. what does that say about your definition of "representation." what does that say about the metrics u are using to like....assign value to fanfics. because personally to me it signals that u have been so sucked into this weird tiktokification of fanfiction that u only think fic is worth engaging with if it's reached a certain level of virality on tiktok, which is half of what's giving way to this whole "representation" issue in the first place, because the problem isn't that people aren't writing wlw fics, it's that you aren't seeing them because they aren't one of TikTok's Top 5 Most Popular Fanfictions and you refuse to venture outside that corner of the fandom. and the snake eats its own tail once again </3

[izepeche]

Don’t You Know, You’re Life Itself - Chapter 1 | Sinister!Strange x Fem!Reader | izepeche

Pairing: Sinister!Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader with Powers

A/N’s: This is a long one mainly due to backstory, I finished this 4 days ago actually, Im sorry it is taking so long i am a newbie and English is hard. Anyways, enough excuses. As you can see from the warnings, this is slightly darker and is 18+. Just letting you know so there's no surprises. After all, if you are thirsting for Sinister Strange, you probably expect/want this creepy sorcerer to break you. Reader does get their shit rocked in this fic (most of you have read the excerpt), Sinister Strange is an Unhinged Bastard and I love him the way he is (and I hope you do, too).

Honorable Mention: @couldntbedamned made a comment on one of my posts and it inspired me to continue writing this whole fic, so shoutout to them!

no beta, tired, probably gonna be some errors, yk how it goes.

Warnings/Tags: Dark!Sinister!Strange, Slow Build- Up Masturbation, Eventual Smut, Minor Spoilers for DS MoM, Canon Divergent- this story is my own, Mentions of Mental Anguish, Toxic Family & Relationships, Identity Issues, Manipulation, Fighting, S/M themes, Minor Blood/Kink, Stalking, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, Dumbification, Dub-Con Elements, Oral, Light Restraints, P in V, Fingering, Biting, (one) Whipping if you squint, Size Difference, just general kinky unhinged sexual content

Chapter 1- Word Count: 4.5k+

Synopsis: You go to Sinister!Stephen Strange for help with your powers, against your better judgment. He is all the more happy to oblige you in your time of need. Deep down you know you shouldn’t trust him, nor do you know why he's so eager to help. But you have no one else to turn to, and his charming smile puts you at ease… too bad it's all for show.

Prologue:

 He’d stumbled in the dark before meeting you, after losing Christine he’d lost any hope that happiness was something he was ever meant to possess. The day he saw you, felt your presence, it filled his chest like he’d just breathed air for the first time. It ignited, burned within, smoldered into something darker, something he should have let die. Losing Christine was a blow to him, broke him, shattered him. He didn't want to be healed, fixed, pitied; he just wanted to feel- God, anything, again. To possess something, or rather someone- he ached for it. 

Even if it wasn't love you two would ever share, he was utterly consumed with the idea of having you, keeping you for his own. It was wrong, deep down the old him would know it was wrong, but that Stephen Strange was dead (and so were many others). He didn’t- he couldn’t- shake the obsession, you were the wicking flame, the life in the hollow soul he’d destroyed. Besides, how could he not want you, when you were just so… perfect.

(CHAPTER 1) The Right Time

It was an autumn evening, and you were invited to the unveiling of a new wing of the hospital you completed your nurse residency at. It was also your graduation, and the cool energized air that settled over the city was fitting for the elation of new opportunities that lie ahead of you and your peers. You arrived shortly after 6:30, the orange sun setting at the skyline and sprawling shadows from tall buildings grew across the city. With a VIP pass in hand you entered the City Hall, awaiting the ceremony that was abuzz with people.

-

 Strange had become a bit of a recluse, guarding the Darkhold and wandering the Sanctum was not always something many would call ‘fun’. In a rare bout of wanting to be outside and needing to feel a sense of fulfillment, even if it was by proxy; was enough to spur him out. It was also likely a certain red haired woman would be there, and he didn’t spare chances to see her. He scrummaged around for that suit, ah, the one he wore to a variant Christine’s wedding (after killing that Strange, and taking his place). He dressed himself in the matching black jacket and pants with a copenhagen blue button down with crimson buttons. He fumbled with a slim black tie, huffed a frustrated breath through his nostrils before letting his magic get the knot right. He quickly styled back his dark hair, slicking greying hairs behind his ears and leaving a few black strands to swoop onto his forehead.

He took the Darkhold as he exited the Sanctum, latched it to his leather belt with a lock, and used a spell to conceal it from view. 

 Strange arrived from an amethyst portal ring under the cover of navy night and shadow, the outside lanterns of the City Hall emitting an inviting orange light. Following a couple ahead of him, he walked past the guards and bouncers and in among the crowd and glow of the hall. It might have been people’s general fear of him that allowed him easy entry, he really shouldn’t have came; but (frankly,) Stephen couldnt be fucked to care. He wasn't there for trouble, and if they weren't going to mess with him, he could actually enjoy his night out without unnecessary death. Besides, the guards and officers wouldn’t dare try to stop him, not after what had happened last time.

He squinted at the intense bright lights of the hall and tried to find a place to watch from that didn’t wasn’t so vastly overlit. Whether it was his strained eyes or the cold air, oh it didn’t matter- he could feel a headache coming on. Fan-fucking-tastic. He approached the open bar and got a ridiculously full glass Merlot from a nervous young bartender, just something to take the edge off. The older man sipped while holding eye contact, ‘mmh not the best’, and the guy nearly stumbled to refill him again and then hurriedly attended to another patron. Turning from the counter, Strange took another small sip and scanned the area.

 There was a staircase lined the walls under a balcony. It was dark, under the shade of the upper levels, with not many people to bother him. Perfect. He made his way over in long strides. Shadow fell over him and he instantly felt better, more at home. As he made his way up the stairs he passed a few higher ups; officials, doctors, representatives of the medical board-  all too frightened to look his way. Many of them who knew him, at one time, even trusted him. The various guards who sandwiched them or led them away were apprehensive towards Stephen but didn’t engage. Christine wasn’t among them. ‘For once they learned from their mistakes’, Strange thought, though if he wanted to he could find her, easily. But tonight he vowed to keep things light, enjoy the classical pieces coming from the set up speakers and immerse himself in the late Gothic Revival architecture.

One guard approached, a brawny blond haired man with blue eyes, refusing to let him go past the middle to the upper levels. Strange stood there a moment, glaring at the familiar face; a silent challenge that made the bodyguard clench his fists in anticipation. The Sorcerer breathed out something akin to a chuckle and perched himself against the railing of the indoor balcony. The guard lingered for a moment before breathing a sigh and continuing downstairs.

Strange was quite high up and had a clear view of the space below. In the center were a row of chairs in front of the podium, and an excited younger crowd was being swarmed by a larger one, onlookers and bystanders alike waiting to converse with them. Cameras flashed and a few reporters zig zagged among the people, microphones in their hands and cameramen in tow.

Strange kept to himself and was now a bit out of practice with acting cordial towards people, but he did miss going to formal events, even if it was just for the atmosphere and the music. The people were a bonus if they stroked his ego, but usually offered nothing more in the way of conversation and he’d quickly lose interest. Christine was always better at those things.

The taste of the wine became bitter, and he swallowed harshly after he took a sip. Just then something washed over him, like he’d been ungrounded, like he’d just stepped off an escalator and had to find footing. He looked incredulously at his glass, now half empty. He wanted to take the edge off, not get a fucking hangover. Strange wanted to follow that train of thought back downstairs, to that bar, to have a strong word with that little shit-

Another wave ebbed into him, fuzzy warmth distracting him from his violent contemplations, and he became aware that it wasn't from something any alcohol could create.

 It was an energy, pulsing and tugging at him. It made him tense up; this aural experience was so gentle and oddly comforting. The silken brilliance engulfing him, it was addictively foreign, and he just couldn’t ignore it. Inquisitively he searched around the large lobby below, feeling the signature increase and spike inside his chest.

-

You emerged from the bathroom, hands becoming instantly clammy at seeing the impressive crowd. A few people in nice suits and fancier dresses than yours took a glance in your direction, and a rush of anxiety went through you. You went to fumble at the name badge a friend had helped place on your dress, and one of your peers stopped you.

“Don’t take it off silly. How else will they recognize you?” They motioned to the crowd with your peers scattered about, lights flashing among their silhouettes. They were all smiles, posing, answering questions, and overall flourishing in the attention. 

“That’s kinda the point.” You mumbled, low enough for them not to hear in comparison to the roaring crowd. You removed it anyway and put the badge in your small purse, much to the annoyance of your fellow alumnus.

You were overwhelmed. You didn’t do well in crowds, at all. In fact, you had tried to request that you be omitted from attending this ceremony, ‘can’t they just mail me the plaque or something’, but the director of the program, a certain red headed woman, wouldn't allow it. Christine personally came to see you, big bright eyes pressing you for a reason as to why. ‘Can I say I’m planning to be sick, miss’ was all you could say. Her eyebrows came up and she quirked her head to the side with a smile and begged you to attend.

“If anyone deserves to be in that hall to accept their certificate and award, it's you,” she’d said with a kind hand on your shoulder.

 She would have gone on to shower you with records of your accomplishments, not only your impressive test scores, but also testimonies of the doctors you shadowed and the patients you had helped. The residency was probably the hardest you’d ever worked at anything, it was the once in a lifetime opportunity to work with some of the top medical professionals in New York. The program was also heavily sponsored by Stark Industries, so the sky was the limit when it came to connections and growth opportunities. 

During your nurse residency people took notice of you, you weren’t exactly the most knowledgeable or most prestigious of the class; but they found your impeccable bedside manner extraordinary. You were approachable, kind, and pretty much every time you interacted with your patients they instantly felt better.

Noone knew that it was because of your special abilities that you excelled; and you felt like a fraud.

 Christine believed in you, and it broke your heart a little every time she complimented you. She could have gone on to the point of embarrassing you about your work; she’d done it before in front of the class and you swore you wanted nothing more than to jump out the nearest highrise window. You didn’t let her get to that point again though, the confrontation from someone you admired so much alone made you fold like a deck of cards.

That night, you tried to be different; ‘come on, socialize, it's my big night’, you thought. Your heart strumming in your chest, you approached the crowd, allowing it to swallow you into the frenzy of people. The cacophony of voices, camera and phone flashes made you instantly regret even thinking about coming out tonight. You tried to make your way towards the row of seats, to which a chair with your name on it was attached, hoping to beeline it there. Okay, maybe you weren't that different than before, but hey at least you were here. 

You gave a few weak smiles and waves to people who caught your eye, your fingers immediately going back to fidget at your pass, running over the smooth cool surface of the card. Just before you could make it to your seat, a group of your peers in front of flashing cameras caught your attention. Among them was one of your closest friends. You both had applied for the prestigious residency program 3 years ago, mostly on a whim, and now you had both graduated. You couldn't help your smile and almost cried seeing them, getting the recognition they deserved; now clad in a well fitted pants suit- all white and all smiles. You would have preferred to have worn a suit as well, but your family forbade you from wearing one. It was a bit stupid in hindsight, because they didn’t even attend the event. You got to choose your own dress though, picking a rich concord turtleneck column gown from an assortment of dresses that were passed down to you. You liked classic styles, they fit your frame well and ‘highlighted your inner sophistication’ or whatever bullshit your friends would tell you to get you out the door, and admittedly you did look great that night.

Seeing you, your friend’s mouth opened in a gasp and waved you over. They were standing in a break in the crowd, the group of reporters with their assorted cameras and lights turning to you. You hesitated a moment before taking another step into the clearing, a quick flash from one of the cameras made your vision go white. You put a hand to your eyes and only more flashes flooded your vision, stunning you. A familiar concerned voice joined in with excited professional ones and you felt that dangerously strong aural force weld up inside you. Everything was too much, your chest heaved, and you knew if you didn’t do something it would be disastrous. You felt that familiar painful surge like you were about to be ripped apart-‘ oh no, no not now!’, and in an instant you turned away from the glaring lights and rushed into a line of people and towards the seats. You could barely see, a high pitched and painful ringing in your head making it difficult for you to want to open your eyes fully. Back in the crowd your friend rolled their eyes, shaking their head before trying to get the attention of now distracted and annoyed reporters.

 A guard tried to stop you, a tall, blond haired man, but you flashed him your VIP pass and continued on to your seat. You plopped down, head in your shaking hands, the ringing in your ears only interrupted by your labored breaths. 

You sat for what felt like an eternity, rubbing your sensitized eyes behind your closed eyelids. The lights dimmed, and calming music brought you back into the hall. You felt the vibration from a frustrated plop of someone in the chair next to you. From the irritated sigh that followed you realized it was your friend. You didn’t look at them, and they didn't bother to say anything to you. You sat there in silence, feeling guilty for possibly embarrassing them in front of the press. You were just sensitive, in weird ways, especially since your powers started to manifest. You pride yourself on being able to mask how you feel, gauge your reactions, because you don't want to be a burden. But still, on this important night you couldn’t keep it under wraps. 

The melody playing brought you away from your thoughts. It swirled in your head, it was lovely, lolling you back into calmness. Music always made you feel better, it was often the only remedy that would help you de stress after a painful aural flare up. This tune was familiar, a rendition of Nocturne L.82, and you couldn’t help but feel cheery as it continued to play.

People quieted and situated themselves in their seats. Someone spoke, sounding important from the podium; but the music continued to play over the speakers quietly and that's all you wanted to hear. Christine was invited to speak, and you tried to pay more attention then. She congratulated the class, observing your peers and when she came to you she gave you a wink, then continued on with her speech. You clapped when everyone else did, and one by one you saw the people next to you get up and disappear around the edge of the platform. You breathed out a sigh and stood when it was your turn.

-

Stephen scanned the hall below, certain that what he felt was coming from something, maybe even someone. He saw a small figure emerge into a small opening in the crowd. He saw you, clad in a mauve column gown, the velvet material shimmering and cascading down your frame. Even from the distance he was drinking you in, your elegance, your form, better than any wine they served at the function. He zeroed in more, curious. As if for confirmation another rush of energy hit him, and he made his way back down the way he came, still eyeing you. As he made the trek down he was pushed back against the wall, nearly dropping his glass as he staggered back.

He quickly corrected himself and ran down the stairs, determined that something was amiss and the woman he was eyeing had something to do with it. He cleared the landing, bounding around the corner of the stairwell and into the crowd. Pushing past bystanders and fussy reporters, he finally saw you through the silhouettes. The complaining of a persistent newscaster tailing behind him made Strange roll his eyes; he didn’t have time for this. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, and time slowed to a crawl. He set his glass on an invisible surface and watched intently.

Narrowed cerulean eyes met your form, frozen in the bright light, hand shielding your eyes, though he could see your face through your fingers that you looked frightened and in pain. The nagging in his chest deepened, making the muscles in his neck tense, feeling it radiate from the person before him. Inquisitive, he brought closed fists across his chest and released it outwards, expelling his magic and uncovering the aural spectacle. A white bubble pulsated around you, distorting the air and expelling waves of energy. The sphere seemed to wrangle and twist ferociously, spiking outwards as a force was trying in vain to reel it in.

 “Yikes, that looks painful,” was all he could think to say, examining the slowed scene in awe.

It was quite the large amount of force at play, and was one of the most interesting manifestations of aural powers he’d ever seen, in fact. It was obvious by your intense straining that you lacked experience in controlling your abilities. He couldn’t blame you, it looked like a lot to handle, and you were quite the little thing. It wouldn’t necessarily be something to be ashamed of, it took him quite some time and countless hours of studying to expertly wield his own magic. However, any amount of power; let alone something of this magnitude, can be dangerous, deadly, in an inexperienced one’s hands.

‘I could control this, with enough examination and time, of course’, he thought, rubbing practiced fingers in his palms, feeling the satiny aural fabric slipping through them. ‘Control…you’. His fascination didn’t stop with your unwieldy powers. His gaze went from the psionic sphere back to you, taking in the marvelous display that fed the sorcerer’s wicked imagination. Icy eyes slowly examined you, your hair, your eyes, your lips, the shape of your body. You seemed so powerless, fragile, helpless to the wild powers that inhabited you. So… pathetic, so perfect. Oh, he’d have you. He had to, such a glorious creature hidden in plain sight could be for no one else.

A camera’s flash went off, causing the sphere around you to displace an angry heat, close to rupturing as it seemed to tear, and you turned, dress shimmering as your legs carried you away. Even in slow motion, he noted that your reflexes were still quite fast.

He waved his hands closed, concealing your psionic magic, snapped, and the scene resumed; you rushed away into the crowd of people. He smirked to himself, before turning to see that same damn reporter with a mic outstretched to his face and a camera pointed at him, rambling about ethics and his first appearance in public since yada yada yada. His annoyance bubbled, he was never one to play PR man, especially with the charlatans that worked for the press. He’d rather be more direct, an eyebrow twitch sent him into dark thoughts; he could get rid of every useless, sniveling reporter in all the damn multiverse-

“Reel it in, Strange- got things to do. Killing someone tonight won’t help-“

“Excuse me?” Said the woman.

To give him credit, he didn't think he was saying that out loud.

 A twist of his hand and he corrupted all devices around him, bricking phones and destroying any footage, camera lights rupturing. Confused voices erupted from the crowd.

“Oops, did I do that?” he quipped, grabbing his floating glass and walking past the dumbfounded reporter and her cameraman and away towards the bar. 

He sat and stared into the empty glass in thought, not even acknowledging the bartender anxiously waiting to serve him. The spells he used made it so that others wouldn’t have seen your powers, but he didn't need to draw unnecessary attention to himself, and especially to you. He contemplated leaving, but after all the core unveiling hadn’t even started, and he didn’t even know your name. The red wine poured into his glass by trembling hands. He raised a hand to stop the now white-as-a-sheet bar guy, and took a sip, looking into the scarlet liquid as it disappeared into his mouth. It still wasn't good, but discovering you made it taste sweeter, and he savored it before swallowing. The sorcerer’s mind busied in depravity, fostering a plan that made him lick at his upper lip unconsciously; wondering how he’d get such a pretty bird to wander into his cage. Stephen noted that you held a VIP pass in one of your hands, so it is possible that you were one of the graduating alumni of the residency program.

The lights dimmed, casting the hall in a deep ultramarine that calmed his aching eyes. A distant tune played a piece he immediately recognized, and the chatter of the hall died down. The person at the podium spoke, unveiling the new wing of a hospital Strange had once walked the halls of. Strange was lost in the now midnight color of the Merlot, tracing a long index finger slowly along the glass’ smooth lip, too gone in his own thoughts to really concern himself with the details of the speeches doctors and the other professionals gave. Christine’s voice woke him out of his daydream, and he tipped the bartender, walking off with the almost empty glass up the stairwell. 

 The new wing of the hospital became dedicated to the city of New York and the hall erupted in clapping and cheering. Stephen arrived at his original spot and he paid keen attention. Normally he would anyway, it was Christine after all, but he was more focused on something else. She announced the names of the class alumni, one by one shadowy figures stood from their seats and around the stairs up to the lit platform. Each person stepped onto the platform, cameras flashing as she handed them plaques and papers and gave respective handshakes before they walked off to the other side. 1,2,3,4..7 people and still no sign of you. He could still feel your presence, gradually feeling tension build in his chest, so he knew you had to be up soon.

You emerged from shadow, now cast in an ethereal blue light as you hurriedly strutted towards Christine. Though he couldn’t see it from way up there, he could feel trembling within the energy waves tickling his chest.

 “Poor thing, you’re shaking like a nervous puppy,” he husked to himself. Pitiful. God, he wanted you so badly it made his cock ache in his slacks. He almost wished he could slow down this moment and go down onto the stage; offer you a sip of his own drink to ease you. Watch as the red wine slipped between your plush lips, observe how they pressed against the glass as he guided it to your mouth. 

But he knew that he’d want to do more than just that. 

And he couldn’t, not yet. He was a gentleman, after all.

Christine read out your name, and Stephen couldn’t help but grin, actually grin, for the first time in what felt like ages. He took an indulgent sip, finishing the wine as she passed you your plaque and degree papers. She gave you a pat on the hand and mouthed words before you bowed your head and walked off the other side of the stage.  

Stephen approached an attendant with a platter and gave them his empty glass, and with a new plan hatched in his head he strutted down the stairs, past the bar, and out the hall. His fingertips glossing over his lips as they lingered on your name, rolling it around lazily as he continued down the City Hall steps, the warm glow of the outer lanterns leaving him. He undid his cufflinks, removing his jacket and folding it onto his arm as he turned the corner. Feeling the night air against his skin and through his black and silver hair electrified him, made him aware once again of his member prodding his thigh. He walked down the street, passing under orange street lamps before he came to a shorter road with no passersby. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his dark top to his navel before opening a violet portal and stepping into his chamber room.

He thought about you the rest of that night, shedding his evening clothes in a haze, and while he was in the shower, his thoughts deepened. Hot steam rose around him, water running through wet salt and pepper hair, down his neck and across his broad shoulders. Warm droplets flowed down his strong back and trail down his muscled arms to veiny forearms and hands. The silence only interjected by the rushing water; the older man imagined it’s you there with him.

Addictively soft touches down the front of his broad chest to his abdomen and up and down his back muscles, and he shivers, broad hand pressed on the wall to steady himself as he ruts into his hand. Gentle touches turning into harsh grasps and little fingernails desperate to leave crescent marks on his skin. Flashes of your face, eyes in a silent plea as he bites into your tender flesh, fervently licking over the marks and savoring the taste of you, then his hands wrapped around your neck. His head is down, eyes closed in bliss, heavy cock in hand and he swears he’s never been this hard before. 

Just the idea of you in his mind, the shape of your gorgeous body and those soft lips on him, forming his name, screaming it, was enough to push him over the edge. He shuddered under the cascading water as husky breaths escaped his lips, reverberating off the walls as he came. He came onto the shower wall, all over his hand; and he cursed himself, and you, for how his member pulsated, still aching for more. But he practiced restraint, bottled it, for now, ignoring his half erection as he finished cleaning up and shoved on his night garments.

Stephen slept heavier that night, the cocktail of the alcohol in his system and the midnight air blowing from the window and over him refreshingly cool after his burning satiation. Not that it was enough, nothing will ever be enough when it comes to you.  That wouldn’t be the last time he’d see or dream of you. You were his little secret, and to time indefinite he’d vowed to keep you.

End Chapter 1

Extended notes: Whew, this was challenging to get down. Hopefully my PC wont give me problems anymore because I nearly cried rewriting this after doing so by hand during lunch breaks. The horny bits made up for it though I will admit (more of that to come ;). Also, writing Sinister!Strange with a more subtle vampiric side to him is just ✨ chef’s kiss to me.

Chapter 2 will probably be up in the next 3-4 days because I don’t wanna overload you all and I’m sleep deprived. Chapter 3 (and perhaps beyond) in the next week. I’ll try to do shorter ones in the future. Maybe even requests? Not sure yet, I'm still very rusty and I am nowhere near the level I want to be, especially when it comes to smut.

I appreciate all the love you guys have been showing me, being patient, especially with the comments and reblogs. I read them when I’m stumped and it really helps. As someone who is dyslexic, its really encouraging to see so many notes on my fic related things. You guys are awesome, seriously.

[biillyhargroves]

sooo a billy request bc you do him so damn well / he’s sick & rlly wants to be taken care of so so all he does is complain ( yk he’s a ‘tough boy’) but then secretly melts at all the attention? ❤️❤️

cough syrup(fic requests open)

Billy Hargrove is good at a lot of things; being sick is not one of them.

Not that anyone is particularly good at being ill. Some people simply handle it better than others, and Billy tends not to handle it at all. Doctors’ recommendations- rest and fluids, medication -tend to fall by the wayside. Instead, he prefers to act as though he is not sick at all. The logic, of course, is that if he pretends he is well, his body will catch up. In seventeen years, he has yet to succeed, but this does not stop him from trying. And so, when he wakes up with sinus pain and a sore throat, he promptly ignores it. 

He downs the half-finished cup of cold coffee his father left abandoned on the kitchen table. He searches for the history book he’s not even sure he brought home. He shouts at Max to, “Hurry your ass up or I’m leaving without you!” He revs the engine like he’s really going to do it, and when Max does get in the car he says, “You’re explaining if we’re late.”

“What the hell’s wrong with your voice?”

Billy clears his throat and says, “Nothing.”

Max doesn’t believe him, but she doesn’t press the matter. She is quiet for the whole drive, but when Billy pulls up outside of Hawkins Middle School, she lingers in the car. Billy can feel her gaze on him, and he raises his eyebrow at her. 

“Get out,” Billy says, words strained as he stifles a cough. Max looks like she’s going to say something, and Billy almost hopes she does- almost wants her to ask if he’s okay, almost wants her to figure out what’s really wrong -almost. But she doesn’t. She throws open the door and drops her skateboard onto the ground. 

The day drags at a glacial pace. The longer it lasts, the worse Billy feels. He tries to brush it off. He keeps up his act as long as he can, stealing away private moments to collect himself when he thinks the mask is about to fall. On one such occasion he stumbles out of a bathroom stall to find Steve there, hands on his hips, waiting.

“The fuck do you want?” Billy grumbles. He doesn’t mean to be harsh and he hopes that Steve knows this. They have an agreement, after all. Their classmates think they hate each other, and that is the safest assumption for anyone to have. Steve opens his arms to reveal the empty room around them. 

“Cut the shit,” he says. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” Billy says. He shoves past Steve and turns on a faucet. The cold water sends a shudder down his spine. He grits his teeth, pumps soap into his palm, watches the suds rise up beneath the rush of water.

“Tell your face,” Steve says. Billy takes a brief look in the mirror. There are deep circles under his eyes (he’d been telling people he’d had a shitty night’s sleep, which wasn’t entirely a lie); he even thinks he sees some swelling there, a puffiness that hadn’t been there this morning. Billy grabs a paper towel, dries his hands, almost uses it to blow his nose and then remembers that he’s not supposed to be sick. He tosses the towel in the waste bin. “Oh, come on,” Steve says.

“Shut up,” says Billy.

“It’s just us,” Steve says. “You can say it.”

“Say what?” Billy demands. 

“That you’re sick,” says Steve. 

“I’m not-”

“Don’t,” Steve says. “You promised you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“That was about-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve says.

“You’re a fucking dick, Harrington, you know that?”

“And you look like death warmed over,” Steve says. Billy hangs his head. He looks cornered, and Steve sags his shoulders, almost feeling bad. “We still on for tonight?” he asks, and he can see Billy’s relief at the change in subject.

“Yeah,” Billy says. “I just gotta wait for my dad to leave.”

“Okay,” Steve says. He stands there a moment too long, watching Billy carefully. Then he says, “Tonight.” 

Of course, by the time tonight rolls around Billy feels like death warmed over, re-frozen, and thawed out again. He aches all over and his throat is on fire. He does not have his usual quick wit when he picks Max up after school. There is none of their usual bickering, and though Max won’t stop staring at him, the only thing she asks is, “Are you seeing Steve tonight?”

“What’s it matter to you?” Billy grumbles, voice so low Max almost doesn’t hear him.

“It doesn’t,” Max says.

“Then why’d you ask?” He sounds like he’s been gargling with rocks and he surpasses a cough at the end of every sentence he speaks.

“You can drop me off at Mike’s,” she says. “If you want to just go straight to Steve’s. I’ll tell Neil I stayed for AV club.”

“And why would you do that?” Billy asks.

“Because you’re sick and Neil’s not gonna do jack shit about it,” Max says. “But Steve will.”

“I’m not sick,” Billy says.

“Well, you can drop me off at Mike’s anyway,” Max says. She is finding her footing on what she hopes is the path of least resistance and, luckily for her, Billy doesn’t have the energy to argue. He swings a right abruptly, circles back toward the school, makes his way to Wheeler house. When he asks Max when he’s supposed to pick her up, she says, “Just stay at Steve’s. I’ll get a ride with Will.”

“Max, I can-”

“Ask Steve for NyQuil or something. Sleep off whatever you don’t think you have.”

“You’re not my fucking mother,” Billy says.

“We’re family, right? We’re supposed to look out for each other?”

“Save the speech.”

“You’ll stay at Steve’s?”

“If it’ll make you shut up.”

“It will,” Max says, so Billy agrees. When he arrives at Steve’s house, Steve is surprised to see him so early. Billy lets himself in the back door out of habit. Even when there are no parents home, sneaking is second nature. Steve startles when he hears Billy coming in through the kitchen.

“Christ, man,” he breathes. “Make a noise.”

“Sorry,” Billy mumbles. He furrows his brow when he spots an array of pill bottles lined up on the countertop. There are red and white cans of Campbell’s soup, too, and a box of Lipton’s teabags. “The hell’s all this?”

“For you,” Steve shrugs. “Since you’re obviously not taking care of yourself.”

“Steve, I’m-”

“Don’t say fine,” Steve says. “Don’t say not sick. Actually, don’t say anything. Go sit down. I pulled some blankets out for you. They’re on the couch. I was gonna stop by the video store, but you can just pick from what we have. My dad actually has decent taste for such a stuck-up son of a bitch.”

“Why-”

“Because I care about you, dickhead. That’s why.”

Billy won’t pretend this doesn’t touch him, insult and all. He can’t say that this doesn’t like the attention. He also can’t say the idea of melting into the Harringtons’ overstuffed couch doesn’t sound like everything he’s secretly wanted all day. He approaches Steve from behind, arms snaking around Steve’s middle as Steve rifles through the open cabinet in front of him.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, one hand coming down to rest on top of Billy’s. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks. Billy rests his head in the curve of Steve’s neck and Steve says, “You feel warm.”

“My head is killing me,” Billy admits. “My throat’s killing me.”

“You wanna take something?” Steve asks, and Billy shrugs. “Go lay down.” 

Steve squeezes Billy’s hand and Billy releases him. Steve fishes a bag of cough drops out of the cabinet and shakes a few into Billy’s palm before Billy retreats into the living room. Steve makes him tea, pours him cough syrup, makes two trips to carry in both water and whatever orange juice they had leftover in the carton in the fridge. By the time he finally settles down beside Billy, Billy is cocooned in the nest of blankets Steve had laid out for him. Steve gets some medicine into him: Robatussin and some Ibuprofen. He sits down beside Billy and, when Billy leans again him, he gently guides Billy to lay down. Billy settles his head in Steve’s lap and allows Steve to brush back his hair. 

“You okay?” Steve asks him, though Billy is twilighting somewhere between awake and asleep and he’s entirely sure if Billy can hear him. 

“Everything hurts,” Billy mumbles.

“Drama queen,” Steve teases, but he slips his hand to Billy’s shoulders and gently massages the coiled muscles there. 

“Shut up,” Billy quips. He sounds sleepy, and Steve softly shushes him. He rubs Billy’s back, and Billy slowly drifts off. As he does, a fleeting thought floats through his mind: maybe, just maybe, this is better than toughing shit out. 

[seijch]

hi im about to spam u (so sorry) but ive been too scared to read doomsday until now and im so glad i finally did becasue dude. Dude. its so much. "It’s as the sky bleeds from orange to pale blue that it hits." i loveeee how you incorperated such small moments like the hot chocolate and the ily + i know... be even here just the thought of your Last Sunrise is heartbreaking, but to /realize/ your own end coming in that moment, especially watching the soft sunrise... oof.

HI!!! omg when you sent this i was like . abt to sleep but i read this before i did and went irl 🥺🥺 and then also passed out before i could formulate a response sjfksdfds

anyway!! my response to your asks (i hope i got them all but!!) will be under the cut bc i dont know how to shut up ❤

a lot of the way the interactions in doomsday unfold are honestly BECAUSE tsukki and the reader are (i mean first of all, theyre tsukki and the reader with all that comes with) fully aware that:

they have abt a full day of life left

theres nothing that can be done to elongate that time or avoid death altogether

its not like some young adult novel where a group of ragtag teenagers save the world; its the tale of two adults who have had time to come to terms with the fact that their lives and the lives of everyone they know will end soon (and once again everything that THAT comes with). its why i rlly enjoyed juxtaposing the nice weather w the crippling realization of their own mortality 🕺🏻🕺🏻🕺🏻

"you try to stress your words, make it absolutely clear that you’ve never meant anything like you mean this" this is HEARTBREAKING in a whole miryad of different ways - for a realtionship u establish as one with so many things unsaid but still understood, but here to have her say this so desperately?? like she feels this its too big to leave between the lines? it doesnt matter that he knows, she needs to say it and needs him to hear it UGH IM SAD AGAIN

IM SO GLAD YOU POINTED THIS ONE OUT!! this is EASILY one of my favorite parts of the whole fic mostly bc its something i go thru a lot? like im the definition of that tweet abt never making any damn sense but ESP when it comes to my i love yous or other serious things...i say it a lot and yes i mean it every time! but sometimes i MEAN it and i never quite know how to properly express that kinda thing. 

i think its especially big for the reader in the context of the world ending and in the context of their relationship with tsukishima to have that moment of transparency and complete sincerity for the EXACT reasons you described!!!

"It’s hollow; neither of you have been under the delusion that this was anything but." u said u werent sure about his characterisation but this screams tsukki to me. cuz hes blunt and i dont think he would lie to himself about something like this especially. and even when she tries just for a moment to pretend, he just shows her /no, its ok, this is the truth and we have to die with it/... nah it vibes dude. hes such a interesting character for this idea too? because hes not sappy or anything +

so his tears hurt so much more... oof. "This is my goodbye, he says with more than words." this just... i have so many feelings about this. cuz to me hes totally someone who shows affection through small actions when he cant find the words to match his emotions? so this is like a 4-book-saga laying out his emotions cuz he doesnt quite have the words to say it out loud and theyre out of time. its desperate, but not sad desperate? like its the end but its just him making sure shes knows everything 

ok first of all THANK YOU for saying that bc i wrote him being more vulnerable than i think we rlly see in any tsukki not like ... in junior high LMAO and immediately after i felt my characterization alarms ringing ... like yk those natural disaster alarms? thats the vibe...

but i had one of those Moments where i was no longer the one writing and it was the characters themselves just telling me what to say and how to say it nsfsfsd so im rlly glad it worked! and tbh when the concept first grabbed me by the collar i was juggling a few different characters around in my head but i think i made the right choice in the end. its like you said -- hes not a particularly sappy type and hes always been more grounded in reality imo than some of the other characters (another contender for this fic was akaashi but i realized i do NOT have any solid grasp of his character that isnt from fandom interpretation which is a double edged sword tbh)

and honetly i was ok until "If you’re going to take me out, do it in style, you’d said to him, once. So he does." and then i was all of a sudden crying. and the "stripped down to your bare selves" like theyre just being incinerated together and IM- NO WRODS JUST FEELINGS. i think the best thing about this is how unrushed it feels? and it hurts and its aching but they Know. +

and theyve come to some form of peace with it so when it does come, they can focus on eachother and not the end oh im gonna cry again. this was so gracefully put together, thank u for this. i might reread it and cry again, amazing work 😭💕

i didnt touch on it above bc i wanted to do it here but yes!!!! the absolute fucking DESPERATION felt by both parties in that last minute (which idk if you read my tags on the fic proper but 11:59 was originally one segment before i took those last couple paragraphs and made them the very last second ... i think i made the right choice? it rlly does scream FINAL to me) is SO poignant. all of the walls and hidden meanings fall away because in the end theyre all they have left, dying in each others arms at the very end of it all.

this full REVIEW honestly made me so happy to hear esp on a piece i wasnt quite sure how to feel about at first,, thank you 🤝🏻🤝🏻 i hope you have/had a wonderful day!!!!

OK EDIT BC I JUST SAW THIS COMIC SOMEONE MADE ON IG AND ITS NOT THE MOST RELEVANT BUT ANSWERING THIS PUT ME IN A TSUKISHIMA MOOD SO HERE

[houseoftaetae]

The cheating au we all lowkey love and hate

Taehyung stared infront of him, his legs pulled towards his chest as he played with the toes of his socks, glancing every other minute in the clock above the television. It was nearly 11:47 and Jungkook was supposed to be home at 11. Concern started to pool through Taehyung's mind and stomich as he bit down his lower lip, trying his hardest not to cry. It was not as if he was a crybaby, not at all. Kim Taehyung was one of the most indipendent people on campus (who just happened to look cute as hell and smiled 23/6) He glanced at the clock and again and let out a defeati g sighn. He knew comming over to Jungkook's place when they had a fight wasn't the best idea but he had to, he didn't have the right to fall out to Jungkook like that. He and that boy where just friends as he had said, just his collage that just happened to be really pretty and much more muscular then him. Also, with the fact that there had been alot problems between the two of them, just in their relationship wasn't helping. Taehyung took a breath and shrugged his shoulder to get rid of the nasty thoughts. He sighed and stood up to walk to the door when it slammed open. Taehyung let out a small yelp and moved behind the couch. (*cough* indipendent as shit *cough*) Two males stepped inside the room and Taehyung had almost mistaken them for two criminals if it wasn't for the fact that they where sucking eachothers faces off, hand roaming around eachothers bodies. His eyes widened as he catched a glance at one of the faces of the boy. 'That can't be..' he whispered to himself as he slowkey stood up, heart beating heavily against his chest as he clutched one of the pillows he had managed to grab during his fled behind the couch, against his chest. "Are you sure this is okey?" One if the two spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, my roommate isn't here at the moment." The other slurred and slammed the other male against the wall, his voice was hoarse and deep with drownsyness, but still no doubt his boyfriends. Taehyung felt his chest tighten, an uneasy feeling at the pit of his stomich as he slowly moved away from the couch. He cleared his throath as he just stated at the ground. The two didn't seem to hear him as the sloppy kiss noices seemed to continue. Taehyung looked up when he heard the sound of a zipper, he gritted his teeth and balles his hands into fists. "Jungkook." He spoke and the two males looked up, shock and panic in Jungkook's eyes who immadiatly seemed to sober up at just the mere sight of him. "T-tae.. why are you here I thought you where at Jimin's.." Jungkook spoke as he jumped away from the still unknown male. Taehyung snorted.He had just caughed his boyfriend kissing some dude and that was what he asked. "I left. I went to you, as you can see, to apologise for the way I acted but apon seeing this" he spoke adding dramatic hand movements between the two of them. "I was completely right about the uneasy feeling about your coworker." He spoke and his voice finally cracked. Jungkook stepped foreward, alarmed at the sound of his boyfriends voice and teary eyes. "Baby ple-" "No.." Taehyung whisper yelled, he moved back agressivly whiping away his tears. "Don't call me that, you lost all fucking right to call me that when you sucked face with your coworker and when I caughed you just asking me why I was here!" He screamed, his voice cracked almost every single world. "Baby, Taetae, please don't go please." Jungkook spoke and moved even closer, Taehyung pushed him away and moved away from him, grabbing his bag and making a move to go to the door. "Taehyung please!" Jungkook yelled as he grabbed his wrist. "Taehyung please I love you please let me explain.." Jungkook spoke, more like a broken voice. "Let go." "Tae please-" "Let me go!" Taehyung yelled and pulled himself free, walking backwards till he stood in the dooropening. Chest heaving with every breath he took. "You don't have to explain anything to me. You wouldn't fucking have when I wouldn't have caught you so what's the point if you would do now? Hell, Jungkook I knew me had some problems but i never, never thought you would have done something like this to me!" He sobbed and clutched his back against his chest, having switched it with the pillow along the way. Jungkook stared at him, at a loss for words as tears streamed down his cheeks at Taehyung's choice of words, the thing he was about to do just sinking into him. "I thought you loved me.." Taehyung all but whispered as he hung his head low, warm tears pooling in his eyes and Jungkook wanted nothing more then to whipe them away, to kiss him lovingly and tell him things where gonna be okey. But he couldn't, not if he was the person who hurtted Taehyung like this. Tae--" "I'll be with Jimin for awhile. Don't try to call me or whatever, I won't answer. Just continue what you where planning on doing Jungkook I don't care." Thats a lie but he was not gonna tell Jungkook that, even if he knew, even if he knew it was a lie and that he was probably one of the best things that had happened to Taehyung. He knew cause Taehyung liked to remind him every other day. "Taehyung ple--" "Goodnight Jungkook." Taehyung spoke, voice suddenly ice cold and with that, he slammed the door shut and dissapeared out of the room, leaving a broken hearted, sobbing Jungkook behind ----- I swear I adore Kookie with all my heart I just wanted to write a sad fic cause yk i can and I live for angst tbh idk why, I Hope you enjoyed and i'm sorry for grammer errors i'm not english myselt and am still trying with the whole Fanfic writing stuff!