#I mean I can see it clearly now because of hindsight but damn how did I not know

[saucy-mesothelioma]

[dalekofchaos]

The bastardization of Life Is Strange

I thought things couldn't get worse than the D9 Predatory business practices, toxic work environment, rampant misogyny, homophobia, transphobia and protecting a fucking Nazi Expose.(this apparently wasn't the red line for some folks and still insisted on buying the game anyway)

Well, it's not worse than that, but now?

The entire game has been leaked.

You can't make this up.

They made Life Is Strange, a Indie developer's passion project into MCU Lite.

Safi is a shapeshifter and the final choice in Double Exposure is "will you join forces with Safi" and Max joins the dark side or some stupid shit like that. Or refuse like the Max Caulfield I know would actually fucking do. Who wrote this fucking shit???

“i'm going to find other people like us, max, people with powers. i spent my whole life thinking i was the only one, knowing i could never tell anyone because they would look at me like THAT. but now there's you. you... and me... time traveler and a shapeshifter”

literally why is there even an option to side with her in the first place, she's clearly out of her mind, if there ever was a "morally bad and morally good decision" like d9 wants to assign to the endings of lis1, THIS WOULD BE THAT what a crock of shit.

How did Life is Strange go from melancholic, artsy slice of life to fucking Avengers? HOW!?

at the end max gets a nightmare just like in LIS 1

Texts are assumed to be apart of the nightmare

Silver lining. One final Chloe message after alienating the core fanbase and D9 think scraps will make up for it?

In hindsight.....they warned us what they were planning.

Dude took the "Elsa join the X-Men" meme a little too serious and literal.

But wait, it gets worse.

....I FUCKING APOLOGIZE. I once dreamed of all the protagonists coming together. But not like this. NOT FUCKING LIKE THIS!

BUT WAIT. IT GETS FUCKING WORSE!!!

Life Is Strange going from one studios passion project to the fucking Avengers is the biggest fall of grace I've ever seen.

There was a charm, chemistry and likability of the original game.

It was never about a character having superpowers. It was about finding oneself in the world, friendship, love, tragedy and making the hard choice. LIS 2 is about brotherhood, family and learning to make the best possible choice to give your brother the best life. TC is about trauma, family, finding a better life, corruption. It was never about the powers. That was a background noise and a small part of the overall story.

You know, the worst part of all this is that Hannah Telle sold her principals and credibility for DE.

Thinking about things better and from certain comments I've read about her, such as the nervous breakdown, it leads me to believe that Hannah is a hypocrite just because she's nervous.

Think about it: early 2016 she says she likes Grahamfield. But in 2018 for Farewell she says she likes Pricefield and her favorite ending is Bae because she knows Max couldn't live without Chloe (and Farewell made her come to that conclusion) and now saying she couldn't think of anyone else doing Max... dude... better say you need the money, and you didn't want to deal with the angry fandom and that's why you changed ships.

It bothers me (or rather I see it as hypocritical) that they say "nobody bothers Hannah, poor thing" poor thing? But she accept all that! She's accepting not even saying "Chloe" in interviews anymore. Poor thing, why? I mean, they can attack the other AVs but not Hannah? What the hell privileges does she get when NO ONE DESERVES to be harassed. Damn, even Max's Japanese AV is afraid of being harassed when she goes to play DE!

At least Ashly Burch has some principals. She knows her worth and when the direction of the story is shit. She stands up for her fellow VA and the only reason BTS was remotely successful is because she was a story consultant and Farewell because she stood up gor her fellow SAG VAs.

Ashly even said that she prefers Bay and sees Chloe more with Rachel. And there she is, living with her principles. It makes me think that if Hannah accepted the whole DE disaster, it's because she agrees that Max is like that and she liked everything and that to me is worse, that Hannah sees the complete bastardization of Max Caulfield and Life Is Strange as a whole and went "yes, this is the complete direction I can see for Max and I completely accept this superficial soulless garbage, why no I am not a complete and utter hypocritical sellout".

I take back what I said about the Pricefield breakup being realistic because it was done out of malice to hurt Ashly Burch for standing up for herself and having an ounce of self-respect and principals and alienate Chloe's fans. Fuck SE and fuck D9.

Anyways I stick with my headcanons.

Post-Bay. Max and Warren are successful Photojournalist and Science Professor, married and living their best lives while keeping in touch with their friends from Arcadia and visiting Chloe's grave on her birthday and the anniversary of her death.

Post-Bae. Time shenanigans happen which results in Max saving Rachel and because of saving Rachel she saves Chloe and Arcadia Bay. Max, Chloe and Rachel ride off in the rainbow and get their happy ending. Max is a successful Photojournalist, Chloe is a mechanic and owns her own Tattoo Parlor and Rachel fulfills her dream as an actress and model. They often visit Arcadia to visit old friends, run into Alex and Steph, even join their band for a few gigs and are just living their best lives.

[midnightdevotion]

More Than This

Part one of the series

Iceman x reader

Warnings: ummm slow burn? friends to lovers talk of heartbreak- self depreciating a little bit? Fluff ICE

a/n: Ummmm trying a lip peel off stain while writing this, that is all. This was actually very hard for me to write, based off real events so um yeah #embarrassing

Siting at the bar in your kitchen with a full cup of coffee. You haven't moved in hours, just staring at the tan color of your coffee, that is definitely cold by now.

You haven't been able to eat a real meal in a week, no appetite and whenever you try, you just feel like you'll be sick. You feel used. Betrayed. Broken. Your mind just keeps replaying the memories.

-Flashback-

"I just don't love you anymore-- I haven't since you got back from Mexico"

"so you mean to tell me you've been lying to me and using me for six fucking weeks? For what sex? why'd you introduce me to your god damn friends then?" Your brain is spinning, how on earth did you go from meeting his friends two weeks ago to this conversation- over the phone no less.

"No I wasn't lying- I just love you like a friend-- like how I love kyle" This makes you scoff.

"then go fuck Kyle" and you hang up the phone.

__

The pizza you ordered last night left sitting on the counter, only one piece missing. You could barely get yourself to eat, or sleep for that matter. It's not that you wanted to do this to yourself- he's not worth this. You just feel used, and hurt. Emotionally manipulated and picking up the pieces of yourself slowly.

You haven't found it in yourself to do anything- you suspect people might start thinking something bad happened. You can't really find it in you to care though.

All you want is to hit rewind and never meet your now ex, or notice all the red flags earlier. You feel so stupid for not seeing how badly he was treating you, until now. Hindsight 20/20 and all. Maybe it's because you feel so stupid and foolish you don't want to make the call to the person you need. The one person who always makes you feel better, can always make you smile and laugh.

If only he'd loved you back right, then all of this would've been avoided. You wouldn't have said yes to getting set up, you wouldn't have dated this guy as a means to forget who you really wanted. You wouldn't have felt used.

The hardest part about feeling used, is that you can't get away from it. You can shower, you can scrub over and over and over and yet the feeling doesn't go away.

Realistically, you're glad it's over, you know you deserve better than some mediocre asshole. You know, but it doesn't make it any easier to let go of the lies and hurt.

Maybe you should just stay single. Clearly that's better than this feeling, and well if the man you really want hasn't made a move in the years of friendship between you two then he probably never will. Only seeing you as a friend, as he chases after other girls.

Sighing as you feel the tears start rolling down your cheeks again. You're tired, so unbelievably tired and yet every time you try to sleep you just replay every memory with Brandon in your head. They all feel like a kick to the gut. Either a realization of how bad he was, or how fake he was.

You are brought out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. You are confused, because it's a Sunday morning at 10 am so who would be here?

You drag yourself off of the bar stool, slow and sluggish movements as you make your way to the door. When you open it, that's when it all comes rushing back. It's SUNDAY. You always had standing brunch plans with Tom on Sundays. You're eyes land on him and you feel so bad, because you forgot and he's standing there looking so nice- when isn't he looking nice though. Yet you're here standing with an oversized tee- one of tom's actually- sweat pants and hair in what can hardly be called a messy bun.

"oh my god tom- I totally forgot I am so sorry" but he's not worried in the slightest about your forgotten brunch plans, not when he sees the tear streaks on your face.

"Honey, what happened?" with your exhaustion riddled mind you don't even process what he says.

"Let- let me just go get ready real fast and we can go anywhere you want my treat-" you stop when he steps forward and wraps his arms around you.

"Why are you crying" this time you do pick up on his words, hard not too as he mumbles them right in your ear.

"oh um- yeah I know i'm a mess" and a wet laugh comes out as you try brushing off the pain you are so clearly in. He just squeezes you tighter to him, and for the first time in what feels like forever- your nervous system settles. His cologne washes over your senses and you feel yourself relaxing into him.

"you are a beautiful mess" and you know he means it but you can't stop the tears that continue down your face- one of the issues that you'd had with your ex was he never seemed to compliment you-- and when you brought it up he'd just say 'well I say you smell good all the time' like that's supposed to be the same as calling you beautiful.

If you could see Tom's face you'd know he's panicking, is he making you cry? All he ever wants is to make you smile and laugh.

"Darling what happened- please tell me" and you know he's desperate- you also know it's not fair to keep him in the dark. So you spill, everything. Every nitty gritty embarrassing detail of what happened to you. The arguments you and your ex had this last week- the phone call to dumb you yesterday- the way you feel broken, used and left with no self esteem.

Tom is so glad your face is still buried in his chest for two reasons, one: you can't see the rage that passes through his face, two: you also can't see the hope that flickers in his eyes.

Tom- never quick with his emotions realized shortly after you started dating that asshole that he was actually quite in love with you, but he felt he missed his chance so he stayed the good best friend even if it was killing him softly.

He does feel like a little bit of an asshole for being a tiny bit happy at the news of your breakup- especially because he sees how hurt you are. Except, how can he stop the happy giddy feeling that pulses through him at the notion that he didn't miss his chance, and he wasn't going to let this one get away from him.

You two stand there in your entry way for what must be a good 30 minutes before he gently moves your face so that he can wipe your tears.

"C'mon, let's turn on some trash tv and waste the day" you crack a smile at that, you know Ice hates sitting still and yet here he is offering to do it all day for you.

He knows where everything is in your house- possibly even better than you do. He makes quick work of getting snacks and a few blankets to wrap you up in. He might be the one named Iceman but your feet prove you're the colder of the two.

"Is that my shirt?" you feel a little bit of heat rise to your cheeks at the question- hoping that he wouldn't notice you still dressed in one of his academy shirts.

"uh yea- you left it over here the last time you spent the night. I'm sorry it just looked so comfy and well it is but I-I'll wash it and get it back to you" You move to stand to go and change so you can start the washer with this shirt when you feel a hand on your wrist.

"don't, it looks better on you anyway" and if you weren't blushing before you certainly were now. It also brings a fresh wave a tears, the pain of not feeling good enough, or pretty, and being treated terribly for the last nine months making its comeback in your mind.

You just nod numbly and sit back down, thankful Tom doesn't say anything. You know he noticed the change in your face, the man reads you like a book on the easiest of days, let alone days like today.

He stays with you, a quiet lighthouse that guides you home every time the thoughts in your head are a little too hard to deal with. He makes you lunch and makes sure you eat the entire sandwich. He watches shitty tv with you until you fall asleep on his shoulder, then he sighs kisses your head and makes a silent promise that when he makes you his- you're never going to feel like this again.

He will make you feel beautiful always- and make you laugh and dance and sing. He wants every beautiful moment with you, and he's going to do everything in his power to make you see him like he sees you. If only he knew you already did.

Pt 2 coming soon!

Taglist:

@alanadetigy 

@luckyladycreator2 

@multiplefandomsmess 

@tkmarvel-divergentbish

@ohh-to-be-a-frog

@roosterschanelslut

@americaarse

@malindacath

@atarmychick007 

@trikigirl271

@nessrin

[moonlight-frittata]

I Don’t Need a Mechanic

Overwatch: Dva and Brigitte (a few others make appearances)

Word count: ~5500 

My take on when Dva meets Brigitte and the first month or so of them getting to know each other on base.

---

Six months Hana Song had been a part of Overwatch, and during that time she set a very strict precedent that no one, not even Winston or Athena the AI was allowed to touch her mech, Tokki. So seeing the back of someone inside the cockpit as she entered the Watchpoint Gibraltar hangar made her blood boil. 

“Excuse me!! What the hell are you doing??” 

The person’s body jerked, their head banging against the low roof of the cockpit ceiling they wedged their torso inside. Hana heard a short mumble of something incomprehensible and a long, thick ponytail of red hair retreated from the mech in a hurry. A very tall, buff young woman around Hana’s age emerged blushing with a sheepish grin.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I couldn't help myself. I’ve always wondered what these Korean models looked like up close. But in hindsight I really should have asked first.”

Her accent was European, but it was hard for Hana to place with any real certainty. Could have been Scandinavian, remembering some of the players from Finland she competed against back in her pro days. 

“Yeah, you should have fucking asked.” 

The crimson hue on the tall, possibly Finnish trespasser’s cheeks faded and she held her ground, not scared off yet by D.va’s harsh tone.

“Right. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she said. 

Dva scoffed a bit and pushed past the buff intruder to look inside the mech to inspect if anything was out of place. A moment of stuffy silence passed between the two and Hana hoped the other girl would get the message and leave.

“I’m Brigitte Lindholm by the way.”

Hana let out an audible huff as a familiar freckled face appeared looking through the glass on the other side of her heads up display.

“Oh. Yeah, Fareeha warned me a new girl was joining,” Hana replied from inside the cockpit while she busied herself checking Tokki’s systems. 

“And you’re Hana Song, right?” Brigitte continued lightly, clearly unperturbed. “Or do you prefer to go by D.va?”

Hana paused at the mention of her gamer tag turned call sign. 

“It’s Lieutenant Song, actually.”

Brigitte raised an eyebrow at the curt reply, her smile fading to a neutral expression. It only dipped for a moment though as she extended her hand. 

It was an awkward gesture to shake hands from inside the mech, even though the front of the cockpit was partially open near the joysticks. Hana looked at Brigitte’s outstretched hand and gentle smile on the other side of the glass. Was this a joke? She pursed her lips and sized Brigitte up for a few tense seconds before reaching out. The grip was firm and Hana’s hand practically disappeared in Brigitte’s large palm.

“Lieutenant Song. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Hana sighed and rolled her eyes, a little of the bluster going out of her at the sincerity in Brigitte’s tone. Satisfied that no harm had come to the mech, she backed out of the cockpit.

“Just call me Hana. That rank doesn’t really mean anything here anyway. Lena will probably make fun of me if she hears you calling me Lieutenant.”

Brigitte walked back around Tokki to join her, a lingering hand tracing over the pink exoskeleton as she moved. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you call her Captain.”

“Oh, she’s tried.”

Brigitte laughed. 

“Sounds about right.”

D.Va chuckled for a moment, briefly disarmed by the new stranger, before she remembered how this person was rudely poking around her stuff only moments before, and snapped back into her gruff demeanor. 

“Lindholm, you said? Like Torbjörn Lindholm?”

Brigitte sighed, clearly used to this connection.

“Yes. Genius engineer of Overwatch 1.0, founder of Ironclad Industries, husband to Ingrid, and father of way too many children, including yours truly.”

“So, you grew up in an Overwatch family?” Hana asked as her full attention focused on Brigitte for the first time in their conversation.

“You could say that,” Brigitte said. She picked up a silver ratchet resting on a nearby worktable, spinning the head around between her fingers and levering the handle back and forth, testing the weight distribution of the tool in her hand. 

Hana could tell there was more to the story than her new teammate seemed willing to let on. She found it interesting that Brigitte, who had been all candid smiles a moment ago when she was caught somewhere she shouldn’t be and oversharing to someone she just met, was now hand waving around the subject.  

Overwatch kids are pretty up their own asses about 1.0 normally. Wonder what her deal is...

This was what Hana was known for back in her pro days. Seeing a flaw in an opponent’s defense and breaking it wide open. But she needed to remember she only just met this girl, who would soon be her teammate. Maybe save that for another day. 

“Well, Lindholm. As long as you stay clear of my mech, I don’t see a reason we should have problems working together. What’s your specialty?”

Brigitte perked up at the change of subject.

“Support. Both base level engineering support and in the field. I've got my bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and I’ve been working on Reinhardt’s gear for over a year now. Angela - I mean, Dr. Ziegler, is training me to be certified as a field medic.” 

“Tough job. Think you can handle the gore?”

A wry smile pulled at Brigitte’s lips, her head shaking back and forth in a small, bemused gesture as she placed her hands on her hips. 

“You don’t pull any punches do you, Lieutenant Song?”

D.Va crossed her arms, holding eye contact with Brigitte who matched her gaze with amusement. 

“The best shot caller in the world is just a loud piece of shit if her team isn’t up to the same standard. So yeah, I like to know who has my back and if she can handle herself.”

Brigitte regarded D.Va for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as if chewing on the approach she wanted to take in response.

“I’ve been patching up Reinhardt for a while now. If I’m honest though, I’m scared it’s not going to be enough one day. But that’s not what I need to focus on, and instead I’ll do the best I can to support the people here.”

The plain way Brigitte shared her apprehensions left Hana uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine telling someone out loud she was afraid, especially on her first day. Though in truth, she herself felt scared shitless half the time while doing this work.

Brigitte’s smile was back. Did it ever leave that pretty face? It did suit her though, framed by the freckles and warm brown eyes. If this girl wasn’t built like a literal tank of 6 foot something muscle, Hana might have more apprehension about sending her out to fight Omnics and Talon. 

“Well Lieutenant Song, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time with my intrusion. Fareeha and Winston will be missing me very shortly for the rest of their planned orientation schedule,” Brigitte said as she carefully placed the ratchet she previously picked up back on the workstation, breaking the spell of awkward silence.

D.Va smirked, feeling tension leave her shoulders to match Brigitte’s playful demeanor. 

“Mmm, well now I understand why you were hiding down here.”

“Yes they are indeed quite enthusiastic and thorough with their material.”

She gave a wink and started to walk away, turning briefly to call over her shoulder.

“I noticed there was a small coolant leak under the left fusion cannon. Might get a bit sticky on the left hand.”

“Bye Brigitte, enjoy your 300 page orientation manual quiz.”

Brigitte waved once more and turned around, already so sure and familiar with the layout of the hangar and the base.

She’s just another Overwatch kid, and just another nosey engineer trying to get in my mech.

Hana lingered by her workstation, picking up the ratchet Brigitte had been fiddling with and thinking over their brief encounter again. 

Would this girl be a liability on the battlefield? Brigitte looked strong on the exterior, but then, so did Tokki. If you took away the mecha armor, inside was just a squishy human target bullets and fire could cut through like paper the second she was exposed and vulnerable.

Hana took a deep breath.

She walked around to the left fusion cannon and did indeed see the signs that a coolant leak was backing up inside the casing. Pretty subtle to spot with minimal visible damage to the exterior. 

Not bad, Lindholm.

D.Va pulled her headphones on, turning to her latest loop of pop songs to blast while she went to work removing the panels on the cannon to replace the broken coolant line. The task felt good, and helped her mind drift to thoughts other than her conversation in the hangar.

---

Hana didn’t see much of Brigitte the next few weeks. The new recruit was busy with training and learning mission protocols expected of field agents in addition to shifts with Mercy in the clinic to  fulfill the certifications Brigitte was required to complete. Hana would see her sometimes at dinner, often in a spirited conversation with Reinhardt or Lena. It seemed to take Brigitte no time at all to fit in amongst the old guard, but it seemed that’s what being the favorite niece of pretty much every person here would get you. 

Hana would half listen to their stories, always feeling awkward and out of place amongst their banter. Overwatch was like a family, but she was more like the stranger invited as someone’s plus one. Everyone seemed to have an ingrained familiarity with each other. A single word could trigger a whole series of anecdotes every person around had some personal insight to add on to. 

Remember this! 

Oh how is so and so?  

Damn, that was 5 years ago already? 

Even on her squad in Korea, she never had what they people here seemed to have. Dae-hyun was a close childhood friend and followed her into the MEKA squad, but the other pilots were a different story. There was always a bit of friction and distance with the rest of her teammates because of their history as pro-gamer competitors forced into an arrangement as teammates. It never really gelled beyond cordial coworker relationships. Hana’s celebrity status didn’t help either, only adding another barrier between herself and the others. The fame of D.Va closed her off in access to most people unless they were on the other side of a screen, and then they only saw a polished up version of herself. 

Not exactly the best way to get close to people.

Sometimes she was curious to learn more when she heard the Overwatch stories, but she always stopped herself before saying anything. It was easier to pull out her phone and queue up a game. Easy to pull back and ignore them, and usually they left her alone to do it.

She was okay with that. She was okay with keeping Hana and D.Va separate. She was okay with only polite greetings and trite platitudes. She didn’t need to know about the times from before, or what her Overwatch teammates did on the weekends. She just needed them to listen to her in the field and leave her room to make her plays. Like every time she started a new game, she didn’t have to focus on the past, or what others thought, she just had to focus on the objective in front of her. It’s what got the job done and what kept her alive.

---

Brigitte kept her word to stay out of Hana’s mech. She set up her own work station on the other side of the hangar where she worked on Reinhardt’s gear as well as her own. Hana would sometimes see the blue flash of a shield out of the corner of her eye over the hum of diagnostic scans or smell the burn of sparks from welding. 

One day curiosity got the best of her when she heard the loud, repetitive pounding of a hammer on metal and she wandered across the hangar. 

“You’re doing that by hand?”

Brigitte stopped working when she heard the voice behind her, the deafening echo silenced on the metal shoulder guard she was beating against.

“On this armor I do. Reinhardt’s gear is special from the time it was made. It has to be maintained with some older techniques.”

“Why?”

Brigitte looked at her surprised for a moment then laughed, loud and warm. 

“You know, I wondered the same at first. It’s a bit of the way this armor is made, modern techniques can be too harsh on it, interestingly enough. Too precise and it becomes too fragile.”

“That doesn’t sound true,” D.va said.

“Oh, questioning my methods huh? Well, maybe the truth is more I didn’t originally have the right gear out in the field, and Reinhardt didn’t have much modern tech either, so the only way to do it was by hand. But it’s nice actually to keep doing it this way, I like getting my hands dirty with it. Helps me relax.”

“See that I believe.”

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, Lieutenant Song.”

D.Va rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

“I told you before, you can just call me Hana. Although, I do like the respect of authority.”

“Lieutenant suits you.”

Hana smirked a little at the complement, turning to pick something up on a nearby table. She picked up one of Brigitte’s gauntlets, slipping it on her hand. Her arm sagged under the weight, the glove coming up well above her elbow.

“Is it exhausting wearing all this armor? How do you run around with it on? I can barely lift this thing.”

“There’s movement assist when the unit is turned on. But I mean, I think I can handle it.” 

Brigitte smirked as she made a show of flexing her well defined arms, and Hana couldn’t help but gawk a bit before she turned back to fiddling with the glove. 

“Um, yeah I uh, noticed you seem to be in good shape.”

“Oh yeah?” Brigitte was smirking, clearly enjoying the slight fluster she was causing in her new teammate. Hana put the glove back on the table and gave Brigitte a light shove on the arm.

“Oh give me a break, you know you’re buff. Do you even own a shirt with sleeves?”

“I’m very familiar with OW 2.0’s handbook, and the dress code is quite lax about on-base personal attire. But, mostly I just like hearing you complement me.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re strong enough to move your ass around in this armor so you can protect my blindspots while I’m doing all the real heavy lifting.”

Brigitte laughed again. Hana couldn’t help but smile too at the warm sound. Brigitte’s whole face lit up, and her eyes crinkled around the edges. No wonder she was the favorite niece.

“Fair. I’ve seen your battle footage and some news clips when you were back in Korea. You’re so strong, I doubt you even need me.”

“Ah, another fan of D.Va. Well, who can blame you,” Hana said with a flick of her hair. She continued to walk around Brigitte’s workstation, picking up random pieces of armor. Brigitte didn’t seem to mind.

“Actually Reinhardt was the real die hard D.Va fan. We used to always have a stash of the instant noodles with your face on them in our rig. Great shelf life. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you for an autograph yet.”

“Well he’s one to talk! Did you know, when I was a kid there was a Reinhardt special edition line of noodles? I remember I tried them once and they had such a weird flavor. It was like ketchup and curry powder or something. He had a pretty big fanbase in Korea actually.”

“Hah! I didn’t know that, but I’d believe it. There’s been so much Overwatch merchandise over the years, I’ve lost track. They were such celebrities back in the day.”

“Yeah.”

Hana knew a thing or two about having her image used for propaganda. She wondered for a moment what it was like for Brigitte, growing up amongst the same environment, but removed from the center of it. An image of her laughing in the cafeteria with the old guard flashed through her mind. She decided it must have not been too bad, and refrained from asking the question.

“Okay well, I’ll leave you to your meditative, hammer time. I need to get back to my mech anyway, I’ve got a mission tomorrow morning,” Hana said, turning to leave. Brigitte let out a long sigh, slumping into a chair. 

“Oh, it must be nice to leave the base.”

Hana stopped in her tracks, curious again, hearing such an outburst from Brigitte. She turned around and poked one of Brigitte’s large muscles near her shoulder.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be done with your training block soon. Fareeha is just, really particular before she lets anyone out on a mission. It took almost two months, and me breaking every score in the simulators for her to let me out in the field.”

“I know, I know. It just sucks sometimes feeling like everyone is being overprotective of me. I can handle myself, I’m not a little kid.”

Hana couldn’t help but give a little hmphf sound, her lips pulling down at the corners. 

“Yeah, I get that feeling. You can’t speed up time though, you just have to grind it out.”

Hana wasn’t normally one for listening to whining, but she thought Brigitte looked quite cute while she pouted, her arms crossed tight against her torso and her lip jutted out. It was hard not to laugh at the sight a bit, but Hana held her tongue. She really did know how it felt to want to prove yourself.

“Hey come on, there’s plenty of work you’re doing here that’s valuable. And when you’re ready, you’ll get called up and out there with the rest of us.”

Brigitte took a deep breath, seeming to blow out the negative feelings in one dramatic sigh. When she straightened up in her chair she seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at Hana again.

“You probably know better than anyone how to do that. Thanks Lieutenant, I’ll try. Let me know if my hammering gets too distracting. I can always go find something else to do.”

“It’s fine. I hardly noticed.”

“Well in that case, I’ll just be over here until dinner time.”

---

A few days later Hana almost threw her computer across the hangar. 

“Why is this piece of shit so useless!”

The MEKA diagnostic program she used to keep Tokki up to date was crashing every five minutes when she tried to run a scan of the system. It had slowly been degrading the last few weeks and after the latest mission it apparently decided it had enough. She tried every trick she knew, both from working on the mech for years and everything she could think of on her personal gaming rig, but she only had rudimentary coding skills and was vastly out of her depth.

“Everything okay?”

Brigitte’s gentle voice called out from a few feet away as she had stopped her own work to come see D.Va’s meltdown.

“Everything’s fine. Except I’m going to have to go throw this piece of crap, and then myself, in the ocean.”

“Sounds like a costly solution. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She could feel Brigitte’s sympathetic look burning into her cheek and hated it.

“Okay no problem. I’m around though, just let me know if you want an extra set of eyes.”

Hana stared at the email she had sent to Dae-Hyun the day before that still had no response. She knew her mech’s hardware inside and out, but he was the one who really handled all the intense computer program internals. She was out of her depth here and needed him to call her so she could get this thing working again, but he wasn’t answering. Maybe he was deployed somewhere or too busy with a social life now that she was gone. 

She had decided to come here for Overwatch. So maybe she should trust Overwatch.

“Brigitte, wait a minute.”

The other girl paused and turned, only having walked a few feet away from D.Va’s workstation.

“I could probably use some help here, if you’re still offering?”

Brigitte smiled, but it was more muted than her usual mega watt grin. Hana appreciated that she wasn’t making a big deal about it. 

God, why is this girl so nice.

“Definitely.”

Brigitte walked around the workbench where Hana set up her computer station and listened to the general description of the problems. As Hana started clicking through screens to show the protocol she usual ran, Brigitte held up a hand to make her stop.

“I understand what you’re saying, but looking at the text, I can’t read Korean. Does it have a translation setting?” “I doubt it. This thing was only meant to be used by the Korean MEKA squad.” Hana felt her stomach drop at how quick her hopes of getting this programming running were already dashed.

“Well lucky for us, Overwatch has some very robust translation tech we can utilize.” “Really? It’s not the AI is it? I’ve been so resistant to letting her in my computer.”

“That would be one possibility, but there are some more localized options we have. I’ve had to do this once or twice on one of my papa’s projects.”

“How long will it take?” “Don’t know! Could take a while, I’m not going to lie to you, especially with your program already acting buggy. But don’t worry Lieutenant, we’ll sort you out.”

Hana groaned, already having major doubts about letting Brigitte mess with her tech. But she didn’t have a lot of options, and this was probably the least embarrassing choice on the table at the moment. 

Brigitte moved back and forth between D.Va’s workstation and her own across the hangar, gathering cables and a laptop she would use to debug the system. Hana watched over Brigitte’s shoulder for a while, monitoring her work to get the translation program working on the MEKA diagnostic software. 

“Where’d you learn to do this type of thing?”

“Back in college. I had to learn a certain amount of coding for my major, but I helped out Winston some in his lab on campus and he taught me a lot of tricks too.”

“Jesus, is there literally anyone on this fucking base you don’t have some personal connection with?” 

Hana stepped away from the computer and dropped down into an empty chair with a huff, spinning the chair on its axis in erratic circles.

Brigitte stopped typing and watched Hana’s tantrum. “It bothers you that I’ve got a close connection to Overwatch?”

Hana did not reply, but crossed her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Brigitte’s gaze held her for a moment but eventually shifted back to the computer screen as she seemed to weigh her thoughts on how to respond.

“Why did you leave the MEKA squad to join Overwatch?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t have the best history as an organization, you know.”

Hana stopped spinning to look at the side of Brigitte’s face, who’s eyes were still trained on the laptop screen. “Well it’s better to actually be in a fight than on the sidelines.”

Brigitte stopped what she was doing and turned to face D.va. “You’re the best pilot in the MEKA program. Why would you be sidelined?”

Hana let out a bitter laugh. “Best pilot? I was more than that. I was the face of the fucking Korean army! Which eventually meant I was too valuable to be an actual soldier.” Hana stood up walking to the end of the workbench, reaching out to touch one of her mecha’s guns. She couldn’t see Brigitte, but she could feel the other girl watching her.

“I got real banged up in a fight with the Gwishin. Like, probably should have died kind of banged up. I was out of action for months. After that, the army realized they couldn’t let the poster girl for their success stories die in an actual fight. So they moved me off the Busan base and deployed me to lead baby fights happening inland, but whose sole purpose was really just a photo op.”

Hana balled her fist in anger at her side, remembering how awful it hurt seeing images of herself on television in all those epic battle sequences, reporters singing praises of heroism, only to know the real truth that it was all a fabricated lie. She couldn’t stand it.

“So when Winston and Lena came to my apartment and asked me to join the new Overwatch, it was a no brainer. My piloting skills are too valuable to just be sidelined in a studio with a green screen.”

The MEKA squad team was fairly understanding when she told them. The same couldn’t be said for her commanding officers, but as D.Va, the amount of influence and money at her disposal proved sufficient for a smooth enough transition.

“I believed this was my shot to get back in the fight. So even if there’s some bad history there, this is a new chance for me, and I am ready to deal with any fallout.” 

Text whizzed by in the background of the computer screen as the console spat out a continuous stream of logs from the program Brigitte fired off as she listened in silence. 

“I never liked Overwatch. I still don’t,” Brigitte finally said.

Hana turned to face her, very confused. 

“Really? But, you’re like, one of the legacy kids.”

“All that means is I know more of the gritty details and seen firsthand the way people I love were chewed up by this place.”

Hana’s brow furrowed in thought, crossing her arms as she focused on Brigitte. Hana had been so taken in by all the happy scenes in the mess hall and around the base, she hadn’t even thought about the implications and complications that must have been a part of Brigitte’s life. She was so good at always putting on a bright face, how could she have known? 

Brigitte took a deep breath, looking weary as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. 

“When I was a kid, it was like I was one of those audience members you talked about. I was told all the best stories about heroes and villains, and it so happened that my family were literally starring as those heroes. But when I was a little older, I started learning more about history, and the other side of things. The PETRAS act. In fighting and war crimes. Blackwatch. Angela’s medical tech weaponized against her wishes, by my own father it turns out. Winston and Tracer buried under so much red tape, I’m honestly surprised they were ever allowed to leave a military base of their own free will. And Reinhardt... He’s a lot like you, I think. Brave, loyal, too stubborn to be just the face of a movement without putting his own skin on the line. Not when there’s something bigger than himself he believes in.”

A deep sigh, and an almost painful expression crossed her face.

“So no, I don’t like Overwatch. But I also can’t sit on the sidelines while they risk their lives, knowing I can help them. They’re my family. So here I am. Family can be complicated, ya know?” 

Before Hana could come up with something to say, the computer dinged behind them. Brigitte tapped on the keys, reading quickly when a smile crossed her lips. 

“Look at that, perfectly legible Swedish.”

“It’s fixed?” Hana hurried over to look at the computer screen.

“Well, the translation program is running. Now I need to actually debug your diagnostics program.”

“Ughhhh, I’m never going to leave this place.”

Brigitte chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. Feel free to go get some dinner if you want. This will take a while.”

“No way I’m going to leave you here all alone!”

“I promise I won’t touch Tokki.”

“It’s not...it’s not that, Brigitte. I just don’t feel right strolling off to dinner while you’re stuck here fixing my shit.”

Brigitte smiled.

“Okay. I definitely don’t mind the company.”

---

Hana tried to keep up with what Brigitte was talking about as she debugged the code. And she could follow along, for a while. Eventually she was way too lost to feel useful, and didn’t want to distract Brigitte while she was fixing the issues, so she retreated to a nearby futon against a wall. It was well past midnight, and Hana’s eyes were starting to droop. Brigitte drank one of the Dva branded nano cola energy drinks a while ago and seemed to be completely in the zone. 

The next thing Hana knew there was a strip of bright light in her eyes as the sun started to stream in through a window in the hangar. Hana stretched to pull out the discomfort her back protested with from not being in her bed, but it was really not that unfamiliar, considering some of the positions she’d fallen asleep at her gaming computer before. A blanket was draped across her body she didn’t remember picking up when laid down on the futon. She was all alone in the hangar and her watch told her it was just after 5am. 

“Brigitte?”

No one answered.

She sat up, noticing an unopened water bottle and energy bar laid out on the ground beside her futon with a little sticky note.

“Give it a go, Lt - Brig”

Hana scooped up the rations and dropped in front of the dark screen of her laptop. When she started up the terminal screen, her diagnostic programming kicked off like it normally did. All in Korean. 

The screen showed exactly where an electric circuit was tripping in the defense matrix grid of the mech, which had been glitching in the field the last few days. Hana noticed the parts and tools needed to complete the fix laid out on the workbench neatly, but when she poked her head in the mech, it remained untouched.

She smiled to herself.

“Kept her word to stay out of Tokki. These Overwatch kids are too much sometimes.”

D.Va pulled the panel off her mech and got to work.

----

At dinner that night, Hana spotted Brigitte in the mess hall with Reinhardt, Tracer and Winston. Brigitte gave her a wink when she noticed her. Hana got her meal and sat beside her, leaving her phone in her pocket for once.

“Thanks for the help with Tokki, Brigitte. Works like a charm now.”

“It was my pleasure, Lieutenant Song.” Brigitte’s smile was kind, her expression gentle and warm. Hana noticed this close up Brigitte’s eyes were lighter around the edges, and she had a few more freckles on her left cheek than the right.

“Did I just ‘ear you call ‘ana Lieutenant?” Lena cut in. “She’s ‘Lieutenant’, but I can’ get none of you to call me Captain? Double standards round ‘ere, I tell ya what.”.

“Well, Hana was a more recent officer in her respective position, while you have been discharged from the RAF for several years now.”

“Who’s side you on Win!? Those ranks don’t expire!”

Brigitte chuckled, whipping her head around to look at Tracer’s shaking her hand dramatically in the air, eyes downcast in an over acted, scandalized look. Hana also let out a small giggle.

“Your rank on the flight simulator scoreboard sure did,” Hana said, poking her tongue out with a playful smirk at Tracer. Brigitte, Reinhardt and Winston all laughed.

“She’s got you there, Lena,” Brigitte said.

“The youth of today. Ruthless.” Tracer grabbed a fist over her heart as if shot in the chest by a bullet.

“You know, back in my days of Overwatch…”

Reinhardt started in on one of his specially tailored stories for whatever situation was at hand, this case a very detailed recount of the first time he granted a field promotion in the Crusaders. Brigitte sighed, correcting inaccuracies she heard along the way, giving a wink to Hana when Brigitte’s presence in the story was pulled into the story much later on.

Lena took up the torch after that, remembering a time she accidentally flew into restricted airspace and managed to sweet talk her way out of being shot down. They all took turns sharing more elaborate one ups from their time before Overwatch. Hana even volunteered a story, sharing the time she convinced Dae-hyun to set Tokki up to stream a battle with the omnics. She broke her single day subscriber count in under one hour.

They all laughed well into the night, and for the first time Hana really started to feel like part of the team.

---

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

[luxekook]

when fire meets frost | kth

as part of the christmas with bangtan: secret santa collab

❅ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

❅ genre: second chance romance, exes to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

❅ summary: just like a bad holiday song, you gave taehyung your heart last christmas. only in this scenario, he broke it eight months later. now you’re both back at that same damn holiday party where you first met one year ago and you’re just praying for you and your heart to leave in one piece.

❅ word count: 5.8k

❅ warnings: 18+, cursing, suggestive comments, drinking, DIY mistletoe, light violence, random ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ references, drunk tae (TM), break-up flashbacks, weird humor, hella tension, hella groveling, making out, smut [oral (m to f)], the fluffiest of fluff (borderline cheese...actually...full-on cheese)

❅ banner by: the almighty and powerful maggie @kimtaehyunq​ - who also is the collab host!

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 8:00PM

Taehyung is staring at you. Again. Though you're facing slightly away from him, you know that if you give even the slightest glance over, your suspicions will all but be confirmed. The heated gaze you feel skimming over your body continues as you take a much needed sip of your mulled wine and pray that you get out of his line of vision soon with your dignity still intact.

Seokjin, your best friend and current partner in conversation, notices your predicament and scoffs, “You really should just put that boy out of his misery, (y/n). Scrooge himself would be down to have a foursome with the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future if he was around all this pent-up sexual tension.”

Your red-painted lips curl in a surely unattractive manner that resembles something between a grimace and a grin. You’ve heard variations of this argument about a dozen times from just as many sources, but Seokjin’s might just be the most absurd.

“I don’t know how or why your brain went right to a ghost-fucking analogy, but I’ve long since given up trying to understand your thought processes.”

Seokjin’s chest puffs up at your words like they incite something he should feel proud of. You sigh and shake your head at him, feeling a mix of exasperation and endearment - a constant haze of comfort you feel around your best friend.

“I’m just saying,” Seokjin continues, completely undeterred by your attempts to divert the conversation onto him, “He’s hot. You’re hot. He’s still into you. You’re still into him. I don’t see the problem.”

“I never said–!” You cut yourself off. He’s baiting you. “You son of a nutcracker. You know full well what the problem is. I’ve told you more times than Yoongi has yelled at someone for getting too close to his precious sound system.

At your words, you both look over to your left where Yoongi is currently chewing out a sheepish Namjoon with a death-grip on his expensive ass speakers.

“And I’ve told you that your reasons are shaky at best, (y/n),” Seokjin sighs, placing his chin in his palm and leaning over to you. He continues with a conspiring whisper, “Just because you’re scared you’ll get hurt again doesn’t mean you should never put yourself back out there.”

“Oh yeah,” You scowl, “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never been dumped by the boy you love because he ‘wants to explore other options’. And then have to keep being around said-boy because you’re in the same friend group. And then fast forward a few months to when that same boy shows up drunk at your doorstep asking for you to take him back because you’re ‘the only one for him’. Spoiler alert: that’s fucking bullshit. And then–”

Seokjin slaps a palm over your mouth, effectively cutting you off mid-rant. “Babe, you have to stop rehashing this. Taehyung clearly is still in love with you. He looks at you like he wants to fucking eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Besides, Tae hasn’t even hooked up with anyone since he asked for another chance.”

“That we know of,” You mumble darkly behind Seokjin’s palm - your words only a barely audible jumble of syllables.

“Are you accosting my date, Jin?” The voice of your co-worker and close friend Felix meets your ears as you shove Seokjin’s hand off of you. When you invited Felix to come to Jimin’s annual holiday party, you briefed him on the situation - like any good friend would. You needed him there as an extra buffer. While you love Seokjin, he definitely can get swept up into petty drama - namely baseless arguments with Jungkook.

As your closest work friend, Felix knows all about you and Taehyung, and therefore he agreed to be your “date” in exchange for your help in getting him a date with Alicia, the new accountant in your office. You’ve spent countless hours sitting next to each other as desk neighbors and coworkers. Felix is quiet, cute and respectful - not to mention his voice is to die for.

Felix’s hand settles on the middle of your back in completely friendly territory, but you can’t help but feel the eyes on you have ramped up in intensity. You wonder if Felix can feel his hand burning from the heat and almost think he does when Felix drops his hand a second later.

It’s one thing to make you uncomfortable. You’ve learned to stomach that. But it’s another thing to make your friends uncomfortable. And for that you turn and level a glare at that beautiful asshole, sitting at a nearby table with Jimin and still looking at you with those goddamn eyes.

Taehyung shamelessly stares back at you as Jimin prattles on about something in his ear before noticing Tae’s mind is elsewhere. Following his gaze to you, Jimin groans and shoves Taehyung’s shoulder before strutting away towards the kitchen. You watch as Jimin saunters by and roll your eyes when he winks at you when your eyes meet. That one has always been trouble.

When you turn back around, Taehyung is still staring at you. No, this time he’s staring at your body - namely, your ass. You ignore the burst of heat that runs through you and make a face somewhere between a scowl and a glare. He looks up at you without the least bit of remorse.

Your eyes narrow. Your ass isn’t even out! Your green ugly Christmas sweater adorned with real ornaments basically falls to your knees. But then again, Taehyung has always had a vivid imagination - and an even better memory. His mind is like a goddamn vault.

You tug your attention away from your ex and back to the current conversation. But your thoughts wander. You still feel that pull towards Taehyung - that same damn pull that’s been there since you first met him. And that scares the shit out of you.

Flashback: The First Meeting, Last Christmas

You’re perched on the arm of Namjoon’s black pleather sofa (“It doesn’t stain! Can you believe that?” ���Namjoon, it’s ripped in seven places.”). Surveying the flurry of friends scattered throughout the cozy apartment, you only see a few people that you don’t know. But something feels different tonight, and you just can’t figure out why.

Did Namjoon rearrange his plants? Did Jimin part his hair differently? Did Hoseok change his outfit - again?  

“A-yo, (y/n)!” Seokjin yells over to you from clear across the room. You’re always baffled at how clueless that boy is to social cues. “Come meet Taehyung!” Your friend continues to yell, practically pinwheeling his arms to beckon you over to his side of the room. You can vaguely make out an unknown figure standing with their back to you, facing Seokjin in conversation.

You sigh. Might as well get this over with before Seokjin decides to start pretending to lasso you over to his side of the room. Or worse - get his actual lasso that he has for some unknown reason. A natural performer that boy is. Getting to your feet, you cross the room. Your heartbeat thuds in your chest and you rub a hand over your heart absentmindedly.

What is wrong with you? Meeting new people always brings nerves, but you never usually feel this out of sorts. You step into Seokjin’s outstretched arm and into the embrace of your best friend. And then you look up at the newcomer.

Hooded dark eyes. Curly black hair. Perfect pink lips. Jawline chiseled by the gods.

Your breath catches in your throat. Words buzz in the air around you but you can't distinguish one from the next. You’re pretty sure Seokjin is making some sort of joke because his sides start to shake and the beautiful stranger looks exasperatedly amused. Yet, his eyes never stray from yours.

His lips part like his breath is caught in his throat.

“Taehyung-ie, don’t be rude! Say hi!” Seokjin shoves Taehyung, jolting you both out of your little staring contest.

“Hi,” Taehyung repeats. Your stomach flips at the depth of his voice. “I’m Taehyung. Kim Taehyung. You can call me Tae. Or V. Or just Taehyung.”

Your smile widens at his ramblings and the rising color of his cheeks. “Hi, Tae,” You can't help but grin up at the adorable, beautiful boy. He really looks angelic under the kitchen lights. His halo of curls frames his face in such a way that makes you want to curl your finger around one and tug.

Vaguely, you can tell that Seokjin is shooting rapid looks between you and Taehyung, looking like some sort of bobblehead in 100mph winds. Suddenly, a Grinch-like grin takes over his face. “Why don’t you crazy kids get some more wine? I need to talk to Yoongi...” Seokjin slips away.

In hindsight, you should have immediately been tipped off that Seokjin was up to no good. Seokjin seeking out Yoongi? Nothing good ever comes from that.

And you were right. Not twenty minutes later, you and Taehyung are both stuttering messes underneath a hastily tapped up branch of mistletoe - at least that’s what Seokjin’s calling it. You think it looks like a clump of grass with a grape thrown in there.

Just as you start to tell Taehyung that he doesn’t have to feel pressured by your lame friends, he cups your face in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Fucking magic.

There aren’t fireworks or sparks. There’s a whole blazing inferno between the two of you.

Your hands slide up his back, tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. Taehyung lets out a small gasp as your fingers tug on his locks, and you slowly slide your tongue across his lower lip.

“Uh, okay… Hello? Hey, guys!”

Finally, Yoongi slams together two pans from the kitchen, jolting you both away from each other in fright.

“Break that shit up,” Yoongi shoots a glare at a grinning Seokjin. “I did not sign up for that level of PDA, Jin.”

“I can’t predict love, Yoongi-ah. I can only bring lovers together,” Jin sighs, clasping his hands over his heart dramatically. Yoongi pinches Seokjin in the side, immediately instigating a fight.

Taehyung reclaims your attention, shyly intertwining his pinky with yours. In the midst of all the chaos around you, he just looks at you like you are the only thing that matters.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 9:02PM

“I don’t know how you survive when he looks at you like that. I’m practically melting just being in proximity of the two of you.”

Your friend Ciana’s comment pulls your attention away from your demon of an ex as he strides by, leveling you with a calculated smolder.

It’s a look that says he’s going to fuck you up in the best way - the way that used to leave you weak in the knees and covered in hickies. Taehyung’s fuck me eyes are your kryptonite. He knows it. You know it. The whole party knows it. Hence, it makes sense how he’s shamelessly using them any fucking chance he can just to mess with you.

It’s practically a fulltime job pretending it doesn't affect you. And it's a job you are failing at miserably.

You sigh and take a big sip of your drink. “Oh, I'm not surviving,” You confess, “This is just a hologram image of me. I’m practically clear across the country by now.”

Ciana laughs, “Girl, I don't blame you, but I have to say… He looks like he would follow you anywhere.”

You scoff. There was a time where you would wholeheartedly agree. Since your first meeting, Tae made you feel like you were the center of his universe.

After talking all night at Seokjin’s party, you exchanged numbers and within a few days Tae asked you out.

Your first date was to an art gallery. The two of you spent hours there, studying art and exchanging soft murmured interpretations. You would often catch Taehyung staring at you instead of at the paintings decorating the walls, and it made you feel all warm and fuzzy.

The dates continued until Taehyung managed to gather up the courage to ask you to be exclusive - his words, not yours. You hadn’t believed that he could ever have doubted your answer. But in hindsight, you probably should have doubted him.

Things were great for a while. No - they were better than great. They were the best eight months of your fucking life. Until they weren’t.

“Why did y’all break up again?” Ciana asks, pulling your attention to her once more.

You let a bitter laugh escape. “You’ll have to ask him that.”

Flashback: The Break-Up, August

“I want to see other people.”

The words strike you like a serrated blade. The plate you’re washing falls into the sink with a clatter. Your heart stills in your chest.

“What?” For a second you believe that you must have misheard him. Only he crushes that hope into dust within seconds.

“I said I want to see other people.” Taehyung repeats, a bit louder.

“You mean like taking a break?” You refuse to turn around and face him. You refuse to believe that your relationship is crumbling down. Your mind tries to grasp at straws. “Or trying ethical non-monogamy?”

“No, (y/n),” Taehyung sighs, “I mean that I want to break up.”

“But why? I don’t understand.” The tears begin to sting your eyes as you blink rapidly, trying to make sense of the blindside that Taehyung just threw at you. “What did I do? How can I fix this?”

“You can’t, okay?” The exasperation in his voice is palpable. “I’m bored here. I feel tied down. We’re both so young... How can we know we’re right for each other when there’s so many other people out there?”

“Where the hell is this coming from?” You seethe, finally whirling to face him. Taehyung flinches when he sees your tearstained face but you persevere and continue, “I bore you? That’s sure not what it seemed like two days ago when you were fucking me against the wall of that club bathroom.”

“Things change,” Taehyung scowls, “I need to explore other options, (y/n), and I think you should, too.”

Your heart is breaking, a fissure splitting it right down the middle. “You want to explore other options,” You repeat, in a deadpan voice. “Do you already have someone in mind?”

The split second pause Taehyung takes is all you need to know the answer to that.

“Get out.”

“(Y/n), it wasn’t the only reason!” Taehyung scrambles to explain. “We haven’t even done anything yet!”

“Oh, you’re a ‘we’ already? Fuck you, Kim Taehyung.”

“No! That’s not what I meant!”

“Well, I hope you’re happy with them. I hope they don’t bore you or tie you down. I hope you’re right for each other. I hope youre fucking happy with yourself and your decision.”

“Can’t we still be friends?”

You don’t deem that question worthy enough of an answer and slam your front door in the face of the person who ten minutes ago had been the love of your life.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 10:21PM

The amount of love in the room is making your stomach turn. You watch as your coupled up friends exchange presents and kisses. You’re so happy for each and every one of them, don’t get you wrong. You just can’t help but feel increasingly alone with each passing minute.

Felix notices the dip in your mood and nudges you, “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” You snuggle deeper into his side. Thank god for Felix. “Thanks for coming with me to this shindig. It would have been hard to be alone this year.”

“No worries, babe. Besides, how else am I gonna get Alicia to go out with me?”

You laugh at Felix’s words. The boy was oblivious to the fact that Alicia had already approached you to ask if he was single. Sometimes you enjoy your diabolical mind. “Oh, she’ll definitely go out with you,” You reply, pinching his cheek, “Who could resist this face?”

“You did. Three years ago,” Felix whines, shoving your hand away from him playfully.

“Sadly you’re not my type, pretty boy,” You sigh. It truly was sad. Felix is the nicest human you know - besides Seokjin. The fact that you're not interested just reinforces the idea that you have terrible taste in men.

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know who you could possibly be referring to,” You sniff, turning away.

“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe the guy that hasn’t stopped circling you like a fucking shark in water since we got here?”

“He has not,” You retort, rolling your eyes.

“A-ha! So you do know exactly who I’m referring to, you little liar!”

“Goddamnit,” You laugh. “I need another drink to put up with you. You want a refill?” You gesture towards his cup.

“Nah, I’m good,” Felix shakes his head. You nod and head over to the kitchen, thankfully seeing no sign of ‘Shark Boy’.

But you spoke too soon, because just as you’re reaching up for a new mug you feel him.

“Is that little boy out there your boyfriend? I didn’t think you were dating anyone,” A rough voice growls from entirely too close to your ear.

You turn your head and shoot your best side-eye at the asshole who’s heated stare is aimed straight down at you. You internally curse at the unfortunate fact that Kim Taehyung somehow still can manage to look gorgeous in a bright red sweater with a whole-ass Santa beard stitched to its collar. You have never hated him more given that you look like a hot mess of a Christmas tree that no one wants to climb.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business, Kim,” You retort, turning around again and grabbing a glass from the cabinet. You can feel his warmth surrounding you as he grabs the mug for you instead, his body pushed up against yours.

“Move,” You order, your voice shaking slightly. But instead of listening, Tae grabs your hips and turns you around, caging you in between his arms.

“See, you’re wrong, (y/n),” His eyes dart from your own to your lips, “Everything that concerns you is my business. It has since the moment I met you, and it hasn’t stopped since.”

The incredulous snort escapes you before you can attempt to rein it in, “Taehyung, you broke up with me! I’m pretty sure that means you consider me old news and - above all - none of your fucking business.”

“And I told you I made a mistake!” Taehyung leans closer, his jaw ticking.

“You were drunk!” You stab a finger into his admittedly toned chest that you can feel even through that abominable Santa beard, “And it took you two fucking months to say that, only to never bring it up again. So excuse me if I find your argument lacking.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung curses softly, running a hand through his mess of curls, “I miss that smart mouth.”

“Yeah?” Your response flies out too fast for your brain to check your words, “Well I miss being enough for you.”

Taehyung looks stricken. “Baby…” He reaches for you but you duck past him and beeline straight for Jimin’s bathroom. Locking yourself inside, you slide to the floor and contemplate your chances of sneaking out the tiny bathroom window just like you did that night some months ago.

Flashback: A Streetcar Named WTF, October

A harsh banging sound jolts you awake. “What the fuck,” You mumble, fumbling around blindly trying to find your phone amidst the blankets and pillows surrounding you.

Finally, your hand locates the small metal device and you switch your screen on. Your eyes immediately shut at the brightness and you muster up the will to peek at the time.

3:12AM.

Who the hell dares to pound on your door at this hour? What is this - A Streetcar Named Desire? Well, slap your ass and call you Blanche because this asshole is about to feel your wrath.

Stomping over to your door, you swing it open and say, “There’s no Stella here, Stanley. Fuck off.”

While you don’t find a drunk Marlon Brando on your doorstep, you do find a drunk Taehyung.

“Who the fuck’s Stanley?” Tae glares, trying to cross his arms but failing somehow.

“Good lord, Taehyung,” You groan, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside your apartment, “You smell like a whole goddamn brewery. How did you even end up here?”

“Walked,” He says proudly while smiling down at your hand on his arm like an idiot. “Who’s Stamplee? I mean, Stangfree.”

You pinch your nose with your free hand. This boy… Ignoring his idiocy completely, you question, “You walked?” You push him down onto your couch and head into your kitchen to grab him some water.

“Yup! All by myself! Are you proud of me? Sandflea could never!”

You jump. Somehow Tae still managed to sneak up behind you while drunk out of his mind.

“Kim Taehyung, sit your drunk ass down.” You jab a finger in the direction of the couch he just vacated.

“But you’re so far away when I sit all the way over there, baby,” He pouts, giving you puppy dog eyes. “And I’m not drunk!”

You don’t dignify his words with a response. Handing the glass of water to the problem currently sprawled out on your couch, you sigh. What are you going to do with him? He can’t stay here… But he’s in no shape to walk back to wherever the fuck he came from.

“Tell me, Kim, why did you think that walking to my apartment of all places was a good idea? I could have moved!” Disdain drips from every syllable, “Is anything going on in that brain of yours? If so, it’s clearly not making any sense.”

“I beg to differ,” Taehyung has the audacity to grin up at you as he continues, “My brain makes perfect sense, baby. You plus me equals three.” His eyebrows wiggle up and down as he swings his hands out, showering you with the glass of water you just handed him.

“Maybe I’ll call you a math tutor along with your Uber,” You mumble as you fight the urge to laugh at the mess of a boy staring up at you from your couch. Grabbing a kitchen towel, you dab the water off of you as best you can. Glancing back down at Tae, you notice his attention has fallen to your chest, where the water he practically threw at you has plastered your tanktop to your skin.

“Hey, eyes up here,” You slap his arm with the damp towel, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“One more minute,” He says, absentmindedly rubbing his arm.

His attention gives you butterflies for a split second before you lock that shit down. You aren’t a fool; you’re fully aware that Taehyung’s the farthest thing from available, but he’s still hot as hell with his muscular stature, his wicked brown eyes, and his full pink lips. And that deep voice… it has shamefully been the fuel of your fantasies for the past few weeks. But that is neither here nor there.

So while his undivided attention always did make you feel fucking incredible, now he’s just a drunk boy who’s acting like he’s never seen nipples before.

“I’m calling you an Uber, okay?” You finally say, grabbing your phone and pulling up the app.

“Can’t I stay here?” Taehyung pouts, “Or will Surley get mad?”

“His name is Stanley,” You automatically reply and then curse as Taehyung lurches to his feet.

“I knew it! Where is he? Where is my replacement? I challenge him to a duel!”

“A duel?” You can’t help but laugh, “On what grounds?”

“For your hand, of course!” Taehyung rapidly glances around your apartment before his eyes land on the broom tucked in the corner of your kitchen. “There’s my sword!”

Before he can take a step towards his ‘sword’, you grab his arm and push him back down onto your couch.

“Wow, you’re strong!” Tae stares up at you adoringly, “And so-o cute. Wanna date?”

“You’re drunk, Tae. Don’t say things like that.” God, he’s going to give you a complex. You had just started getting over him and now he does this? Why is life deadset on fucking you over?

“But I do wanna date you!” Taehyung insists, “Don’t you miss me? Miss us? I still love you. I never stopped.”

“Tae, please stop.”

“I made a mistake, baby, and I wanna fix it. Can you give me a chance? Please?” His brown eyes blink up at you slowly. His lids practically fight to stay open as his words slur together.

The boy is falling asleep. Sighing, you close the Uber app. Looks like you’re housing your ex for the evening.

“I wanna marry you,” He mumbles, “Bought the ring last week. If you can just love me again I’ll be the luckiest…” His words get more and more inaudible. Mumbles about Stanley and revenge and kisses and altars filter through as you place a blanket over his form.

“Goodnight, Tae.” You can’t resist brushing your fingers through his hair. Your heart stutters as he practically leans into your touch like a cat, smiling contentedly.

“We’ll see if you remember this in the morning,” You mutter, setting another glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the coffee table for him when he wakes up.

After making sure Taehyung’s on his side with a bucket for potential incidents, you head back to bed.

When you wake up, he’s nowhere to be found.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 10:23PM

“(y/n)... baby, please let me in.”

The underlying meaning of those six words is not lost on you. Could you let him in again? Taehyung once held your heart and then he basically smashed it on concrete and backed over it with his car - twice.

“Go away.” Your words sound weak even to your own ears.

“No, I need to talk to you… Please.” His voice breaks on the last word and you cave. Standing you unlock the door and back up. You could have a logical and reasonable discussion with Tae and get some closure, leaving all feelings out of it. Maybe...

“Two minutes,” You declare, “Nothing more.”

“But–”

You cut him off, “1:55…” You tap your foot and smile as Taehyung shoots you a look.

“Fine,” He rubs the back of his neck, peeking up at you under his lashes. “I got scared, okay?”

Your disbelief must show all over your face because he continues.

“Yeah, I was scared - fucking terrified of how much I feel for you. How in love with you I am. How can it be that easy to find your soulmate? It didn’t make any sense to me. And then Pia began to show an interest in me and I convinced myself it was a good idea to distance myself from you. To see other people. To try to make sense of my feelings.”

You hold up a hand. “So, you’re saying that you broke up with me because you were ‘too in love with me?’ What the fuck kind of selfish bullshit is that, Taehyung? You broke my fucking heart for someone you didn’t even like because you were scared I was your soulmate? Don’t you see how that just makes me feel like shit?”

Taehyung sinks to his knees. “(Y/n), baby, please. I am so sorry. I fucked up in the worst, most selfish way possible. It kills me that I broke your heart.”

“Ugh, get up, you drama king.” You pull him to his feet, continuing, “Why did you leave after that night? You said all those things when you were drunk and then just left.”

“Yeah, I kind of don’t remember what I said or how I even ended up at your place.” A blush takes over his face, “It’s so embarrassing you had to see me like that and I kind of just wanted to forget it happened. And I really hoped that you forgot it did, too. I didn’t expect you to just keep acting like you forgot my existence altogether.”

“What does that mean? I see you all the time, Tae! We’re in the same friend group for god’s sakes. We’re around each other all the time… Maybe even too much.” You mumble the last few words, but he catches them.

“Too much? You avoid me at all costs! You don’t smile at me anymore. You don’t even look at me most times! It kills me that all I get from you now is ice, when I know you have so much fire.”

His words confuse you. So he does want you back? Your friends weren’t exaggerating? A small burst of hope swells inside you, but the memory of the break-up outweighs it. “You don’t even know me though, Taehyung. Not anymore.”

“No. You’re wrong,” Taehyung leans closer to you, and you take a step back. Your back bumps up against the sink, your plastic ornaments adorning your sweater clinking awkwardly.

Tae brushes a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes begging you to listen, “I do know you. I know that you still take your coffee black with caramel. I know that you started doing yoga but are too proud to admit you hate it. I know that you came to my art show last month but left before I could talk to you alone. I know that you–”

“Stop,” Your voice trembles, “Please, I can’t. Taehyung, you hurt me so fucking much. Don’t you get that? I just started feeling whole again. So if I let you back in and you hurt me, I might shatter completely.”

His hands cup your face gently, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I won’t ever hurt you again, baby. Please give me one more chance. That’s all I need. I want to keep you forever, (y/n)... I bought you a ring, did I tell you that when I was drunk? I think I did. I still have it. It’s yours - just like my heart.”

“God, you’re still so fucking cheesy,” You can’t hold back your smile even though more tears are falling down your cheeks.

And then his lips are on yours.

Taehyung kisses you like you're the most precious thing in the universe. Like you might break in the palm of his hand if he’s not careful enough. And maybe you will. But for right now, you melt into him.

He tastes like home.

Taehyung’s touch is tentative at first. His hands slide into your hair, tugging you even closer. You feel like you might burst, feeling so many emotions. Love. Fear. Confusion. Hope. You hook your leg around him, wanting him pressed against you everywhere.

Taehyung groans and one of his hands drops down to grab your thigh, wrapping it more securely around his waist. “Jump, baby,” He mumbles into your lips, and you listen automatically.

He perches you on the edge of the sink, kisses you deeply, and then sinks back down to his knees.

“Tae–” You protest, as he runs his hands slowly up your calves.

“I haven’t tasted you in so long, baby,” His dark eyes burn into yours, “Please don’t let me go another minute without you on my tongue.”

Fuck. Well, you can’t argue with that. When Tae sees you open your legs a bit more, he grins up at you and places a quick kiss on the inside of your knee.

His touch becomes more frantic as he moves up, his mouth placing hot kisses higher and higher.

When he sees the lacy red panties you have on, he snaps, lunging forward and hitching your thigh over his shoulder. Pushing your underwear to the side, his hot mouth is on you, closing over your clit without warning. You gasp as he sucks your bud into his mouth, lapping at it with his tongue.

Your hand winds its way into his curls, pushing him harder against you. He moans into your pussy. “So fucking wet for me, baby. God, I love you.”

Taehyung places a soft kiss on your inner thigh before his tongue returns to lick at your pussy, up and down. His tongue sinks into you, making your hips buck against his face. His hand shoots up to steady you as his tongue continues to flick in and out of you.

The sight of the boy you never stopped loving tongue deep in your pussy almost pushes you over the edge already. “Ta-ae,” You moan, hand tugging at his hair, “Harder, baby, please.”

Your words have their desired effect as he replaces his tongue with two of his fingers and places his mouth back on your clit. You moan as his fingers curl inside you, brushing your walls.

The first few strokes of his fingers are slow. Too slow for your liking, “Taehyung, fuck me with your fingers.”

A rumble moves up his chest as he obeys, pushing another finger deep inside of you. “Fuck, baby,” He curses and begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your pussy, “You feel even better than I remember, so goddamn wet.”

His mouth finally returns to your clit, his tongue flicking over it every so often. You’re hurtling towards your orgasm as his long fingers continue to pound into you and his mouth continues to lick at your pussy.

You feel the heat building up and you come with a gasp. Taehyung continues to fuck you with his fingers and his mouth, carrying you through your orgasm until you slump back against the mirror above the sink.

Taehyung grins up at you, licking up everything you gave him. Finally, you gently push him off you. Still licking his fingers clean, Taehyung’s eyes sparkle up at you, “Well? Wanna get married?”

“Oh my god,” You burst out laughing, hopping off the sink onto shaky legs. “Why don’t you start by wooing me? We’ll go from there.”

“Challenge accepted.”

You blink.

Taehyung smiles. His wild dark curls are sticking up in random places - courtesy of your hands. His eyes are full of their usual sinful promises, but this time they also hold excitement and a tiny spark of hope. “Prepare to be wooed, wifey.”

“Fuck off,” You laugh, quickly fixing your hair in the mirror before smoothing down your sweater dress.

Nodding at your semi-acceptable reflection, you swing the door open to reveal just about every person from the party collectively gathered just outside.

“I knew it!” Seokjin shrieks. “Where’s my mistletoe?”

“My poor bathroom!” Jimin cries, “Defiled! Desecrated!”

“Why am I friends with you all?” Yoongi asks no one in particular.

“Well,” Tae whispers in your ear, “At least we won’t have to tell them, right?”

You smile despite the embarrassing situation and nod. This Christmas might just be your best yet.

a/n: sorry that this is late and severely unedited LOL plz be kind, this is my first fic back and YA GIRL IS RUSTY

© luxekook do not repost, edit or translate as protected under this license

[parkers-gal]

OMG!!! for angst you should do one where Harry finally gets a girl and everyone’s used to choosing tom over him and the reader is just naturally close to tom and he accuses her of cheating on him w T and it’s really angsty

requests are open

wc: 1.8k

—

It was a force of habit. Everybody knew, but nobody mentioned. Nobody knew the full extent of it, nobody cared to ask how much it bothered him. In hindsight, it probably isn't even that obvious. Not unless you open your eyes, not unless somebody confides in you, plants the idea in your head so you can’t see it differently

You had been going out with Harry for a good two months by the time you’d finally met the rest of his family. You and Tom had met previously before, having been introduced and together for only a day before both of your jobs drove you in opposite directions. When you rejoiced, you were naturally close, reconnecting that bond that was cut off too shortly.

Harry didn’t mind at first. He liked that you got along with his family. It made him happy to know you fit so well into his lifestyle. But it wasn’t until people started whispering around, joking that they always thought you and Tom would end up together. It was all fun and games, you knew that, of course. You’d never thought of Tom that way, despite everyone forcing the idea onto you. It was a mutual agreement, that the two of you would never cause problems between your relationship with Harry. And that your relationship with Harry would never splinter your friendship with Tom.

It was just after a dinner with Harry’s family. You were talking with Tom while Harry talked to Sam, when somebody made another joke about how you should be with Tom instead. You laughed it off, as you always did, but Harry couldn’t do the same. He excused himself as Nikki brought a few dishes out. You noticed his hostile and closed off walk, so you, too, excused yourself before following him out of the dining room and all the way upstairs to where he’d hid off to.

You knocked with the knuckles of your right hand. “Har?” The door creaked open as you nudged it slightly, stepping into the room. “You okay?” He grumbled something inaudible and you stepped closer. “What was that?”

“I said no, I’m not.” “What’s wrong, hun?” You carefully sat yourself next to him, naturally leaning into his side.

“It seems like everyone just thinks you’re dating my brother! I mean, at this point, I’m starting to wonder if there’s something else going on.” You back track, sitting up and separating from his side with furrowed brows. “What?” He didn’t answer, merely turning to look the other way, leaning his elbows on his knees as he sighed. “Harry you know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” He’s angry, and you finally notice just how much.

“Harry… you know we’re just friends. We’ve always been this close.”

“Yeah well maybe you’re too close.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not like that with anyone else.” “I’m like that with everyone else! Everyone except you.” You huff, defending yourself but keeping your voice calm.

“What makes me so damn different, then, huh?”

“You’re my boyfriend, Harry! Of course you’re different!”

“Yeah well I can’t see the difference between how you treat boyfriends and how you treat best friends, anymore.”

“What?” You sit back a bit, shock running through your veins at his confession.

“Really, though! It’s a bit fishy, if you ask me.” He’s still speaking sternly, angrily. He’s frustrated, but now so are you.

“I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you are, Harry.” You’re just as angry now. You’re warning him, hoping he won’t jump off that ledge into the irreversible.

“I think you know exactly what I’m suggesting.” He takes the leap.

“You know I’m not that kind of person. You know your brother, Harry. He’d never do something like that to you.” You’re trying to reach an empathetic approach, not quite ready to burst unless he’s absolute about this.

“No but I know that everyone else is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” “That means everyone else chooses my brother over me. I’m used to it.”

“You’re not implying that I’m one of those people, are you?” You gaze into his eyes, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth. He swallows thickly.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m not angry if you are with him. I just wish you’d told me before cheating.”

“What the fuck, Harry,” You mutter it, exhaling angrily. “I’m not cheating!”

“I’m telling you I’m not angry that you are!”

“If you weren’t angry, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“So you admit you’re cheating on me? That I should be angry?”

“Fuck you, Harry.” You jab a finger in his direction. “You know that’s not what I said or what I meant.”

“I mean, you don’t even need to say it.” He chuckles bitterly.

“What does that mean?” You’re raising your voice, anger thickening the tension in the room.

“I mean, take one look at you and Tom together in a room and you already look like you’re in love.”

“Fuck that, Harry. He’s my friend. I’m allowed to have friends, y’know.”

“I never said otherwise!”

“What are you even on, right now?” You stand angrily, looking at him. He looks at you with a mirrored expression.

“I’m just asking for the truth, here!”

“No, you’re jealous.” He swallows, nostrils flaring. You know you’ve hit a weak spot, a sensitive area. He’s angry as ever, now. He stands. “Harry, I’m s-”

“You’re in love with someone else.”

Tears fall from your eyes as you try to compose yourself. You’re just as angry. You’ve taken the blow, fired your own canons. You’re not sure how much longer you can battle in the field.

“Fuck you, Harry.”

“No, fuck you!”

“You’re jealous and have the audacity to say I’m ‘in love with someone else!’” You spit out your words bitterly.

“I’m not fucking jealous! I’m fucking hurt! You’re cheating!”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at the pettiness of the argument. You know there's a reason behind his unreasonableness, but he doesn’t have the right to hurt you with his words.

He’s blinded by anger, though. He doesn’t have boundaries when something takes what he loves. He’s hurt, obviously, but he was too insecure to truly confide in the real reason for his distress. Now he’s angered the both of you, now he’s crumbled the foundation. He’s pulled the relationship apart at the seams, breaking the promise and splintering one relationship after another. He knows, in some way, though, that he’s right. He knows because if he weren’t then he wouldn’t be as hurt as he is.

“You’re a fucking child, Harry.” You cross your arms, grabbing your bag that was sitting on the chair in the corner. “Find me when you grow the fuck up.” You open the door of the bedroom, slamming it and marching down the stairs angrily.

You’ve caught the attention of the rest of his family. The two of you were up there for a good twenty minutes; you’d left Tom wondering what was happening and if things were okay. He could see now that things weren’t. He could also see that you were crying and he moved over to comfort you but you shoved him off, declining his embrace, knowing it would only make you feel worse because of what Harry had said.

You put your free hand up, gesturing for him to stop and back off. You’re gripping your bag tightly as you pull out your keys. You hold yourself back from slamming the front door, knowing you didn’t want to make an entire scene at Nikki’s house.

They watch from the doorway. They watch you slam your car door, burst into tears once you start the car. They watch as you drive off. The minute your car is out of view, Tom marches upstairs, ready to get to the bottom of what happened and why you’re so hurt. He doesn’t bother knocking on Harry’s door.

“What the fuck, man?” Harry exasperates, looking to his brother with wild eyes.

“I should be asking you that,” He slams the door. “What did you do to Y/N?” Harry scoffs, rolling his eyes in irritation. “Of course that’s why you’re here.”

“I’m here because she just ran out crying and I deserve to know why!” “You don’t deserve anything from me, Tom.” Harry spits out. They’re yelling at each other. He wishes things were different.

“Fuck that, Harry. You know I’m her best friend. I deserve to know.”

“Why are you her best friend?” He screams out. Tom goes quiet at the question, wanting to hear more, wanting to understand where he was coming from. “My entire life, I spent in your shadow. I had to normalize girls automatically wanting you more than me. An-and the minute I get something that’s finally mine- some thing that actually wanted me for once, you question why I’m angry about her also wanting you? No, fuck you, Tom.” His words are clear and crisp and his eyes are drowning in salty tears. He wants to swallow his feelings, push them away and blink his tears gone. But he can’t. “I thought finding someone was about falling in love and growing into soulmates or some shit. That’s all she ever talked about when we first started dating! It was always ‘best friends to lovers makes for the best couple’ and ‘falling in love with your best friend is the best thing in the world.’ And at first, I actually had the nerve to think she was talking about me. But now I know I’m just her boyfriend- I’m not her best friend, because that position is already filled.”

He eyes Tom up and down as his face loses its tense expression. He struggles to get a breath, gasping as more tears come out. Tom is silent and Harry assumes the conversation is over. He shoves past Tom, knocking into his shoulder as he runs out, slamming the door and trapping himself into the bathroom. He can barely breathe, barely see clearly through the waterworks.

Tom realizes why Harry lashed out, why he grew insecure. But he can’t place who’s in the wrong, who should make the first move and apologize first. He also realizes Harry is so upset about this because he loves you so much. He’d never seen his brother feel so strongly for someone. He realizes he might’ve taken that away from him.

And suddenly, he realizes neither of you are in the wrong. You’re both right in your own ways. He realizes he’s been in the wrong this whole time. He realizes he’s making this love story about himself. He’s torn his beloved brother up, questioned what was supposed to be set in stone.

Maybe Harry was right; maybe he didn’t deserve anything from Harry. Maybe Harry was the one who deserved the explanation.

Why did you get what’s his?

[stellocchia]

I was rewatching the stream where Tommy got locked up in prison with Dream (Tommy Gets Locked In Prison with Dream) and there are just a few quotes that I want to drop here for everyone:

"What's up Dream?" "Nothing much. I lost my clock since the last time you came" "That almost... if you take the 'L' out of that word then it's... it's a different word and that's funny..." "That's the Tommy I know!"

It's just so damn uncomfortable from the get-go. Because keep in mind that Tommy went in there with the idea of getting closure. In hindsight, not the best idea, but it's not like he knew how to deal with what he went through any better.

But no, what makes it so absurdly uncomfortable it's how Dream just effortlessly steps back into the "friend" role. Immediately trying to go back to their old banter and all. And, like, Tommy didn't fall for it entirely. He was clearly uncomfortable as soon as Dream said the last line, immediately going on the defensive again, but it doesn't change that there is a part of him that still had (and possibly still has) a tendency to fall back on that as well.

"I'm glad you came to visit me, you know? It's been a while... I- I wish you'd visit me more"

Like... rewatching it I'm fairly sure that either Dream doesn't understand that Tommy doesn't, in fact, see him as a friend or he's simply very willing to ignore that fact because he's just that desperate to have him around.

"This is my last visit Dream" "Like e...? Y-y..." "Yeah. Yeah... I'm- this is my last visit seeing you" "You're- like... forever?" "Yeah. Yeah I think so" "Well... forever is a long time"

Maybe desperate then. I completely forgot how genuinely shocked he was at the news that Tommy didn't want to ever go back. I'm fairly certain that this is the first time he's left completely with no words and no idea on how to react.

Also, Dream "forever is a long time" Wastaken having absolutely no qualms as long as it's him and Tommy spending that forever together. This man really needs some new hobbies. Maybe a potted plant or something.

"...you know what? there's nothing you can fu- This is my last time visiting you. So anything you wanna say to me now you can- you have to say to me now. Uhm, 'cause I'm not gonna see you again" "Why?" "Are you fucking-"

See... that's what I mean! Like, yes, he lies and manipulates and all of that, but there could be actual confusion here. Like, I do think that Dream understands exactly how fucked up everything he did to Tommy was. I don't think he's ignorant about that at all. I do think that he may not understand why that would be enough for Tommy to want to stop "their game".

Like, he obviously knows that Tommy has a shitload of trauma from what he put him through, but that's part of the fun for Dream isn't it? So does he actually understand that that "fun" is exactly why Tommy doesn't want to be around him anymore?

"I've been suffering from success while you weren't here" "Me too... except for without the 'success' part, just suffering"

Imagine abusing someone for months and then trying to get them to pity you once you end up in jail, what a f*cking looser! Also, Tommy definitely stumbling with the response because he's just very empathetic even towards Dream. Like, he repeats to himself a few times that Dream did deserve being in jail and that he did do bad things which feels much more like a reminder for himself on why he shouldn't pity him more so than a reminder for Dream.

"You had all this shit coming!" "I did... but... you know? I don't know. Maybe one day, right?" "No! No, have you seen the prison? It's kinda the most secure thing ever! Dude, you're not- you're not leaving here! sam's name still there, okay, thank god" "I'm just saying, like, maybe one day, you know?" "I- I don't-" "Eventually" "Maybe if you have extreme therapy" "Maybe one day I'll just walk out of here. Like-" "No, I don't-" "I feel like I've already been changing since I came here"

It's interesting just how quickly Dream managed to regain control of the situation though. Trying to harp on Tommy's tendency to empathize with people.

"This is my last time here. I might- I kinda- I don't wanna-" "But why?"

He asks a second time? Is he actually just that dense? Like, I get the trying to fish for sympathy aspect. He was trying to get something useful to get out of there and whatnot. But man... that's the guy he literally abused. Did he actually expect it to work? Was he just heavily relying on Tommy's empathy to pull this off or does he actually just not understand Tommy's view on their relationship at all?

"I don't wanna know you" "I mean exile it wasn't too bad, right?" "You fu-" "I mean you still- you had, you know? I mean we hang out and stuff" "I fu- you fucking- you bastard Dream!"

Honestly hear Dream talk about exile is always fascinating. Also, a gentle reminder that Dream was well aware about Tommy being suicidal during the whole duration of the exile. And yet he still defines it as "not too bad" because they were spending time together. Just... that... something alright.

"Listen, when I'm around you my brain feels like I'm fucking conditioned to be your friend but also when I have a knife I wanna just plunge it into your heart man it's like I don't- you don't make me a good person Dream, you make me bad, alright? All this shit that's happened has been because of you and I don't- I'm moving onto bigger and better things now bitch. I- I'm done. I'm done" "But isn't- what if- what if you just- like once a month or something?" "No. No, I don't- I don't wanna know you in my life anymore. This is done"

I simply couldn't not include this. I'm too much of an inniter for that. But also Dream is STILL insisting after that speech. He still didn't give up on getting Tommy to visit him more. It may be that he was just stalling for time until the explosions now that I think about it, but still, wow.

"You're a terrible man, alright?" "I did bad things-" "You're a bad guy. You're a wronging'" "Well, everyone thinks they're right from their perspective that's why I-" "That's not true. That's not true!" "Well, I think I'm right. I did bad things but I did them for good reasons, but-" "What do you mean good reasons? You're a psychopath" "I've learned. Yeah I did bad things but I've learned that I shouldn't have done them"

See, this is what I mean when I say that c!Dream apologists parrot c!Dream's rhetoric completely. Like, the whole idea that Dream had "good reasons" for his actions and that somehow that makes them okay didn't come out of nowhere, but it's sure recontextualized a lot when you understand that Dream is spouting this kind of bullshit just to convince his abuse victim to continue spending time with him. Like, when you actually look at how Dream uses his rhetoric instead of taking it as gospel it becomes pretty interesting to see how manipulative he can get.

"No what- what good reasons? No please, please enlighten us. Please enlighten me!" "I just wanted to- I just wanted to bring the server together. Have it be a happy family, you know?" "Bri- bring the server to- you fu-"

It's incredible how he was able to say that to Tommy of all people. After Tommy just mentioned moments priors how Dream tried to kill Tubbo. After he mentioned that he has trauma related to plain biomes because of Dream towards the beginning. Tommy does immediately call out the bullshit though and that's so satisfying...

"You ruined my past Dream, but you will not ruin my future" "I'm not- I- I- Tommy! I'm trying- I'm trying to change, to be better and not be the same person I was and you- it- it doesn't- y- you can visit me. Like, every now and then, right? It'll help! It'll help! Right? It'll help- it'll help me... be better" "Fuck off mate"

This was honestly the reason I rewatched the stream in the first place. I was looking for this specific quote because I thought I remembered it from somewhere and then I got distracted...

But yeah, the reason I was looking for it is that this is possibly the single slimiest f*cking move on Dream's side. If anyone is confused on the why, it's because, once again, this is emotional manipulation pure and simple. Dream putting the baggage of getting better on Tommy and appealing at his empathic nature to keep him into this f*cking abusive relationship. And also he's doing this while clearly panicked and grasping as straws. Because he does know that Tommy is not going for it right now, it's very obvious.

It's just... slimy...

[supercorp-hosie]

My thoughts for Legacies 316: (here we go again😂)

(I’m combining after thoughts with live thoughts)

1) The soundtracks for this episode are amazing, they fit very well even for Finsie that I heard that a lot of people were complaining on Reddit.

2) I finally get my team Sowanby! I just feel so much from them! They kind of make a great team, but please, do not go on another heist again. You both sucks at that! The holes are, the museum don’t have a fucking alarm for Leonardo DaVinci’s work? Are you kidding me? And Landon beating the shit out of the guard but not putting him out first is so dumb. The worst is Cleo calling Landon’s name so loud, I can’t😂😂😂😂😂😂 you don’t want people to be on your back when you have the Malivore threat going on guys! And ha! You guys are on the headline! That’s why I really feel like these supernaturals are so outdated and solidified from modern technology, even in 2030! Are you going to tell me everything technology will still be the same like now?? Come on, there’ll be cameras watching everywhere. Like they can see Cleo using magic! I need my Trimini (or bridge) coven and Hope starting to integrate the supernatural world with the modern world. About Trimini and Hope future career, click here.

3) the line about “many who shaped it are never acknowledged” I stand! After that, about the key card my random thoughts were about Landon being the one that stole the key card😂 just out of the blue and I’m proven wrong though.

4) Landon bonding with Cleo!!!! They thought the same way, and “I can promise that anyone that have to get to you, they have to get to me” is so strong! But the scene after, is the moment I started really doubting Landon, the look is too alarming. But there are still Sowanby scenes😭😭😭 and the melted heart mud... I mean I genuinely believed that the spell didn’t work because Landon is also mud himself. But in hindsight it is horrific, like the serial killer is just standing next to you but and the signs are right in front of you.

5) Malivore mud being artistically friendly! I can’t haha! Oh and when Holarke walked on Sowanby inspiring moment🤣🤣🤣I can’t, they act like both of them are cheating on one another it’s hilarious. Thank you for acknowledging each other Holarke and Sowanby🤣. By now, I should have known that’s MaliLandon. It’s humiliating because Holarke and Sowanby got me so happy that I didn’t see the clues lmao! Because there’s this line: “Following the footstep of the Renaissance greatest man? ” but this thing, Cleo only did it with Leonardo, with whom she slept with......

6) And damn, after that, I felt like a FOOL, CLOWN, WHATEVER after that! All I have for team Sowanby is fake 🙃🙃🙃🤡🤡🤡 Anyway we still have to admit that the promise still stand true right, cuz it’s literal.🤣🤣🤣 MaliLandon fulfills his promise by eating Cleo. TYPICAL.

7) Holarke! Clarke is still handsome as ever😍. We can see his presence is clearly affecting Josie and making Hope giving him information. Can we talk about how cute is he sleeping soundly here?

8) Lizzie being the only unaffected queen here. AND IT’S FINALLY LIZZIE’S TURN FOR “AD SONNUM” I can totally see her pleasantness in doing that to somebody after being on the receiving end🤣🤣🤣 Josie and Hope had done it before so now we actually see her doing it. I somehow feel completed.

9) The look Hope and Josie shared. Hosie!

10) Josie is going to be the death of me! I like her look. And how the camera moving upward gosh! And I’m totally digressing here, what is a razzleberry? And what is a slush? I have no idea what they are, I just feel like tasting what she tasting now. Lizzie’s line, crashing and splashing😂 Am I colour blind? Cuz I really can’t tell whether Hope is wearing dark blue or dark green 😅 if it’s green, then the traffic lights colour are back again lol. If blue, then Hosie matching clothes! Did Finsie ever have matching colours? I’m just wondering.

11) Hosie scene! They talked about how seeing Clarke traumatised Josie~~ damn and Josie says traumatised is her permanent resting state. I mean even on her birthday she was buried alive lmao. And Hope wants to help Josie stop the traumas by sacrificing herself to defeat Malivore, like by literally dying. Which she didn’t want because she didn’t want to live forever.

12) Holarke scene again! I love all those banters and their dynamics😂😂 how Hope is the only one that trusts Clarke now. The mimic spell! It’s their thing😍😍. Oh it totally surprised me that Clarke isn’t mud man anymore. I’m really happy for him, because he finally break himself out of the abuse! It seems like triad is totally gone?? But I still kind of think that there may be something more? And Clarke’s reaction to Hope opening the artefact! 🤣🤣🤣 and the way that Clarke sensed the familiarity with Cleo! Yea boy, she’s the inspiration to the creation of you.

13) Clarke keeps calling Hope and Landon kids🤣 how’s the feeling of getting kid!Hope kicking your ass and saving you😂😂😂 oh she’s totally your equal. Frenemies at best! YES! I love Holarke bonding. And the fact that Clarke being Hope inspiration to believe in friendship and her family now can help her to defeat Malivore, I Stan! Don’t lose sight of the corner! Josie! Lizzie! Clarke! Yes you have them! I’m glad that Clarke didn’t die, I’ll be so mad because the writer would be bringing him back for nothing. Oh the incendia is painful, affecting me more than the fake looking MaliLandon eating Cleo. The height difference again🤣 with Holarke this time.

14) I love Maleb clothes, not really shipping them just short form for their bromance😂 but I do enjoy if there suggests shipping cuz it’s fun! Love that them being supportive of each other, superheroing, and the hero name🤣🤣they’re clueless too. Poor Kaleb and Cleo. I really need his backstory 😫

15) about hero names, I’m still having playback of “blursome and essential” in my mind. MG is looking at the mask longer than Kaleb, I feel like he’s missing Ethan, like a lot. Another thing is, since we see the effect of someone else being compelled so clearly, but we never seen Ethan’s compelling effects. Or it’s a budget matter? They must be kidding right? So maybe Ethan is really faking it? So that leads us to Lethan....

16) if my suspicion is true, then damn, Ethan is using Lizzie to get into SBS? I’m worried for Lizzie’s wellbeing. Also the look on Josie when Ethan drives near tight after she said like some eligible will fall out of the sky🤣🤣🤣 the timing is impeccable lmao. For real, Lizzie wanting Ethan to be Hope’s rebound after her kiss with him in the trio imagination, is ....so the trio is now sharing guys now? Jandon is still there in the history! It’ll be like a very messing love multi-triangle😌😌😌

17) the way Lizzie talked about how Hope is perfect the whole way and judging by the day when they arrived at SBS? That’s very long! Lmao, Lizzie are you sure you’re not in love with Hope? Hizzie rights! (I don’t even know when I started to ship Hizzie, it’s a mystery🤣) I think I can only talk like that about my love. Why don’t you make you and your sister Hope’s rebound? I’ll be happy with what I get🤣

18) The decision to bring Ethan on a tour, is so bad. What if ethan ended up enrolling SBS and Alaric can’t deny the application? Did she ever think of that?? And Josie and Mg is going to face the consequences in the near future🤣 dreadful! From there I already felt the cliche sweetness that when you’re trying to be a wingwoman and ended up “selling” yourself out🤣🤣 fuck CW for cutting the scenes of Lizzie’s epic facial expression when she was slapped with her own words😂😂😂anyway, it’s no way she can refuse the ask out after 315 where Lizzie still thinks that she can’t be the chosen one when Hope is there, but someone actually chooses her even after all the Hope is perfect speech. As much as I mourn for Methan and Mizzie, I’m happy that she got someone to tell her that. But I think they’re destined to backfire😅

19) so does the Mizzie “will they won’t they?” officially end here? I’m confused. Btw it’s really a way to mention Sebastian’s death being relocated permanently 🤣 oh wait...she knew that that prison world is destroyed forever right????? Someone save me.

20) okay I have to go back before Ethan picked the twins up: while Lizzie is actually worrying about themselves being stranded, Josie is just more concerned about Hope? Hosie! Poor Josie, she never sees that she is Hope soft spot and can totally make Hope happy too. Look at your dumb joke at 103, Hope’s laugh is magnificent too. It’s because of you. And yes I’m with Josie, I just ship Hope with herself and her axe right now, don’t put her with anyone for at least 5 more episode please.

21) The one that doesn’t dissolve into goo! Now is Clarke! And the both of you my dear twins. Btw, the dna thing, where Clarke confirms that dna is still toxic... so it applies to Landon too right? And it’s now just more overwhelmingly apparent that handon sex is without protection. Yea so much for epic love. And this is about the possibility where (hopefully) it’s not MaliLandon when the sex scene happened.

22) Finsie time! I got to say, it’s really improving. Their scene is beautiful, finally. That feeling that they’re nice together is now going on continuous for me. I’m happy for them! They are now stepping up on Hosie, not derogatory, I’m just seeing some parallels from hosie here. The disclose of Ethan broken arm, where Hosie has done, before that there’s Clarke’s traumatising Josie thing with Hosie. Next, the focus on the hand holding, I’m thinking of 207 and others. The “me being here with you”, with hosie 308 “then I’ll be here with you”. The whole thing is very comforting for Josie. The hug is good too. We can see that they finally have some nice scene and the bgm is good for them.

23) I have no idea what is magical agronomy, so I look it up. Again, that shows how Josie love plants, like someone in Reddit said they observed that Josie’s side of room has several plants. And in 307, the herbs, that she remembers. I think it can help a lot if Hope is starting a magical technology company. Josie’s interest in that can come in handy. They’ll make a great team. About TRIMINI INDUSTRIES tap here.

24) we are still missing Jed here. Justice for Jed. We need Jed real first name. Did anyone notice when the super squad faces MaliLandon there’s no werewolf present? They’re really downplaying that huh? But maybe I can be satisfied that they are not making Finch being there but not Jed.

25) We need to address this thing about Handon. It’s like one and a half time that Hope couldn’t recognise that Landon is not Landon right? We still have to give credits to her memories shared with Cleo actually make Cleo kind of recognise the difference? So half a time. I agree with Josie’s words that Landon makes Hope happy. I mean, yes, most of the time they failed in working but there’s still sweet scenes between them. So that’s actually what makes Handon tolerable. They are what makes me only do facepalm rather than skipping them. So yes of course Hope has happy moments with Landon. Just that it doesn’t mean that they’re good together.

26) it’s always Landon’s bros that first find out Landon wasn’t Landon😂 this time is Clarke. It’s Clarke that tell Hope, “Landon will never leave you”. That’s the inconsistency of the writers, not counting MaliLandon’s time, it’s still two times. And there’s time that some will argue that Landon’s feet literally walk away from Hope. So...that’s not true, do not stuff that in our throat anymore. “I always thought you two are destined to be together” is this the writer way of saying they’re not doing Handon anymore or otherwise? Cuz “thought” is past tense and “are” is present tense. I’m tired. It’s normal that Hope still wants Landon to be happy and still love him. But after the breakup, when she still doesn’t know that it’s MaliLandon, the “still dying to get Landon again” is obsession. Girl, it’s derogatory to your self-esteem. “If a mud man like me can beat his fate, maybe you kids can too” yea that’s Handon going on.

27) we shouldn’t need to be told that Handon is epic love multiple times. We should be able to feel them, see them ourselves. Why did I start approving Finsie now, because instead of them being only all talking and no showing, now we see them working well (until now). I have been widely accepting to any other legacies ships and why I never ship Handon? So really these multiple telling us that how good is Landon to Hope, is not working. I’ve never been so frustrated.

28) Let’s appreciate the Handon parallel with 101. It’s interesting that how Landon is inside the cage and Hope is outside the cage again. The meaning of the cage has deep meaning here. Handon first kiss is in the cage, that kind of mean that their love is trapped there. Like how their relationship being so troublesome and bound by these fateful encounters. The lights are quite similar, handon always has this blue lighting for them, which sometimes it’s kind of weird. The first time it is Hope decorating the ceiling with stars for Landon. It’s sweet, but also implying that what Handon has is the false beauty of them and not keeping the cage symbolism in mind. In other way of interpreting it, this is the writer foreshadowing their endgame. Cuz they’re trapped there, no way in no way out.

29) I think I’m not the only one bothered by the mostly lack of real Landon appearance in s3. As we can see how MaliLandon words sits so right about, Landon not belonging to SBS if it weren’t Hope. Then he leaves with Cleo, that’s a thing for Sowanby too, they still don’t have roots with the school, and it’s a great bonding between them, friendship or not. It’s the bond between them that matter. In 314 315, we always see that the students were totally fine without Landon. Like the three trios paralleling? It’s sad that Landon is like bouncing here and there in SBS but never really belong. And now the writers kind of ripped his personal development. So now he has neither his pheonix powers nor fighting skills, great? And even Hope’s growth too. We are seeing her moving to a good direction and the writers have to drag her back in the hell hole. Hope needs to not always looking at Landon for her happiness, it’s not good for the both of them. Like MG said, be your own person.

30) THEORIES regarding Landon: a) It’s MaliLandon all the way? I hope not, it’s reminding me of Lost Girl that one of the characters slept with the father personating the person she loves, and got pregnant. Tell you what was more alarming? When the episode ended, I was recommended to move on to Lost Girl on CW seed. It’s disgusting! Why do you want to help make me hate Handon? I don’t even hate them initially! I’m like struggling to be logical and lean on the positive side here. Why I can’t move on from this possibility: first, I’ve always headcannon that Malivore has partial control over Landon. Like how Landon actually wasn’t lying in 102 103? That’s Malivore. And Handon, as genius as always, doesn’t talk about it. Second, the way that Landon dissolved, he was human back then, but he turns into goo? how does it even work? If he is human, toxic to dna will make him die, not become goo, right? Even if that wasn’t a problem, it can also be MaliLandon trying his luck. Third, Malivore purpose is to make the perfect legacy, he will totally give it a try to make tribrid-Malivore babies. Fourth, during the inspiration from Cleo, MaliLandon has Landon’s memories, enhancing the theories that Malivore has partial control over Landon, so even if it wasn’t MaliLandon, it’s still partial-MaliLandon. Fifth, after the inspiration, MaliLandon said that he doesn’t need Hope to tackle his problem or for his purposes, which means he initially wanted Hope, thinking getting to Hope can help with his purposes. It’s really not a far-fetched.

31) THEORIES regarding Landon: b) it’s real Landon during sex, but Malivore got him in the prison world. While having Landon’s personal growth ripped and Handon still dragging out are not pleasant at all, this is still a more pleasant theory for me. At least Landon did start fighting for himself after sometime, and while the sex is still partial-MaliLandon, at least it’s not MaliLandon. (I’m always using at least for Handon 🙃) maybe we can still have Landon fighting skills? Cuz I was happy for him about this though. But I just don’t think so. The evidence for this theory is, my feeling about Landon in 306 is that it kind of fits Landon personality, but he did start his violence there. Another thing is the letter. There’s care in “to whom it may concern”. However, that can be just me being simp. And there’s also possibilities that the partial control from Malivore is cultivating Landon’s behaviour starting there and slowly taking control. Because making a deal with the devil always has its consequences. It’s either that or Landon was taken after the letter.

32) regarding the picture above, i just want to point out about another interesting point about the structure of the scene, if you scroll back and see sowanby picture with the door and another bonding talk, you can se that there’s always pillar and frames that’s framing or trapping them together. Like Handon. I mean that’s totally MaliLandon, so this pointing out is not mean to be romantic. It’s just a thought about how devastating that Cleo is stuck in something her whole life, especially the picture structure that implies that she’s stuck with MaliLandon again.

33) overall I’m thinking this is a good and disgusting episode. With all the unexpected twist, it’s really good, there’s actually layers in showing us that Landon is not Landon every time. Then those bonding. The soundtrack, the scenes. Disgusting, is about the theory, and how we are all tangled back to Handon again after we finally have some fresh air. Not to mention the always surprisingly convenient that Landon always has an excuse when we see Landon did something bad to Hope. Like he can never be making big mistake while only having little questionable doings that can’t possible tarnish him being the perfect person in the show. The first time he lies, Malivore controlled him. During the pageant competition, he is justified to walk away when he totally chose the wrong timing to ask that question, leaving Hope alone breaking in front of such important event. 207, monsters are coming for him, he’s protecting people by leaving. Musical episode, he needs to cross boundaries because it’s bound to be, without further reasoning it with Hope, when Hope specifically was very respectful of him in 111 about his songs. And now, this. That’s not him, we can’t blame him. He will never be blame for something big because the writers is biased. Very biased in making that Landon is better than anyone else in the show, so he’s the perfect guy for Hope. Like no one can compare with him. He’s almost perfect. Perfect than Hope.

34) Reflect on what Hope did in 308, MG is kind of right, she shouldn’t have touched it without fully prepared. Because it totally let Malivore running out free instead of him being an originally contained problem. It’s for the good view in whole. Heroes make hard decisions. There’s still the hair thing cut from Hope and Golem!Landon.

These pictures is my work, while it’s easy to get it yourself, and not that I’m professional in doing this. But I still did screenshot them one by one and did some editing. So please like or label the sources when you save or use it. ♥️

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

So I watched 10.09 recently, and it has that part where Dean tells a story about him basically being almost roofied as a teen, but somehow it ends up framed as the funny joke and yet another proof that John "did what he could", and I kind of hate this? And it's the same episode in which MoC!Dean killed guys that kidnapped and tried to rape Claire, and you'd think writers would've addressed the parallels and acknowledge that Dean could've been triggered by this situation. 1/2

2/2 But in the end, it's never addressed, and the whole situation is framed as the proof that Dean is evil now. And I'm not even sure what I am trying to say, but with that being the show's approach back in s10, I'm not surprised about the finale anymore. Guess we should've known?

That’s an excellent angle to look at the issue because the Mark of Cain arc is a clear example of how people with different experiences will see the same thing in wildly different ways. There’s this phase of season 10 where everyone is like “oh no Dean is Getting Worse” and when you look at what Dean is doing... you actually go “...good for him”.

Let’s give Caesar what belongs to Caesar. It’s not “the writers” in this case, it’s Dabb. Plenty of other writers don’t fall into this John apologism thing. Just look at how the episode before Lebanon, written by Buckner and Ross Leming, says that sometimes John would temporarily kick Dean out because he was “pissed at him” despite Dean always taking his side to mantain the peace. It almost seems like a statement to sprinkle some salt given what Dabb does in Lebanon, you know? Maybe not, but there is a tension between “John was shitty” writers and “John did his best” writers.

In hindsight, we gave Dabb too much of the benefit of the doubt. We were like, weeell, that’s supposed to be way the characters perceive the truth, which is distorted by the trauma... But now it’s obvious that he truly believed in the John-did-his-best version. He brought him back and got Mary back with him. No matter what happened to the finale, the network didn’t print those pictures of John and Mary to hang on Sam’s wall. He never took Dean’s abuse seriously and it shows.

The “anedocte” of Dean getting drugged and “saved” by John from being raped is obviously there to parallel him with Claire. Which works! It’s so weird because it’s like. You are soooo close to getting the point. Younger Dean was assaulted just like this teenage girl is assaulted and Dean saves her... but apparently John yelling at those people is a good way of dealing with the issue, while murdering child traffickers is an overraction thus bad.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? That Dean’s murder spree is framed as an overreaction. Sam is like “tell me you had to do this! tell me it was you or them!” - the answer to which (by the narrative) is obviously no, it wasn’t self defense, he just killed them because he could. He just murdered those men for no reason except he felt like being murdery. And the audience is supposed to be like “oh no! Dean is murdery for no reason except for murderiness! That’s bad!”.

But it’s a power fantasy, isn’t it? Going on a murder spree on rapists and traffickers. I bet any people who’s been violated like that has fantasized of doing the exact thing Dean does here. Killing them all.

Dean had the physical strength and skill to kill them all, why shouldn’t he kill them? (I mean, in real life I’m against private justice because I’m a fan of the state of law, but the Supernatural universe obviously works on different principles than the state of law. Again, it’s a fictional narrative that plays out as a fantasy for the audience, so.)

So what was Dabb’s intention? I’m afraid it’s the worst one. “John Winchester’s not going to win any Number One Dad awards, you know? But, you know, damn if he wasn’t there when we needed him”. What the fuck, Dabb? It’s been established since season 1 that John WASN’T there when they needed him. Which... I’m afraid... leads us to the Cas-Claire plot in the episode. Cas has fucked off with Jimmy’s body leaving Claire on her own. Parallels how John wasn’t going to win wny Number One Dad awards. But! Cas is there when Claire Really Needs Him i.e. when she’s about to be raped by older men. Parallels how John was there when Dean Really Needed Him i.e. when he was about to be raped by older men.

I think the point is to say, Cas kinda sucked because he took Claire’s dad away but hey! He’s actually a good figure for Claire because he gets there in time to prevent her from being raped. Just like (ew) John kinda sucked as a father because hunting and stuff, but hey! He’s actually a good figure for Dean because he got there in time to prevent him from being raped.

It’s pretty yucky. Literally NOBODY wanted a parallel between Cas and John. But he made one. And he made one to absolve Cas from the guilt he carried for what he did to Claire (Claire’s mother is a mother so who fucking cares about her. She’s basically a Blurry Wife(TM), she’s only a tool for Claire’s arc, Cas apparently only cares about the harm he did the child, not the wife, for some reason.) and to absolve Cas from his guilt it absolves John too. Don’t worry, being a parent is hard. You often screw up. But you can *looks at smudged writing on hand* prevent the kid from being raped by predatory adults and everything’s fine now.

It’s not really important if the child suffered hunger or whatever, the only important thing is that they don’t get raped, because that’s bad, everything else is just a little detail.

All Dabb got with that scene was to paint Sam as extremely unsympathetic because he’s no longer a child, he’s a full adult now and still thinks of that episode at the CBGB as a funny story. That’s not a good look. It almost makes you think that the writer himself saw it as a funny story. Lol teenage boy biting more than he can chew. But then why the Claire parallel? The Claire scene onviously is not supposed to be anything but horrific. I'll give Dabb the benefit of the doubt on this specific thing.

It’s weird, yes, because Dabb wrote Dark Side of the Moon where he establishes that John was a bad husband/father even before tragedy hit the family. But apparently that’s the “not going to win any Number One Dad awards” part, I suppose? I guess he intended to write John as this flawed, ~complex~ figure who was imperfect but still brave and whatever blah blah did his best blah blah. I’m all for flawed complicated characters but a horrible father is a horrible father. A rose by any other name... parental abuse is still parental abuse even if the poor guy was complicated and traumatized and did what he thought he had to do to prepare his sons for a violent world.

Also, the story frames Dean’s escapade as a teenager being stupid. “You know what he got for that? Me whining about how much he embarrassed me. Me telling him that I hated him. But then he stopped and turned around looked at me and said, Son, you don’t like me? That’s fine. It’s not my job to be liked.” “It’s my job to raise you right.” This seems straight from a novel about teenagers doing something stupid that they’re too young to realize that their parents are right to be against them doing. But this isn’t just... a parent walking into a bar to stop their child to drink alcohol. Dean literally describes feeling sick from something that was inside the alcohol.

Sure, it makes sense that he’d lash out to John because of the shame and shock. But the scene is... off. Are we supposed to see this as a typical teenage mistake? Are we supposed to read it as something as horrific as what happened to Claire, literally sold into rape? Or, worse, are we supposed to see what happened to Claire as a teenage mistake, ah silly teenager, blindly trusting shady people, no wonder you end up in a situation where you’d get raped if a father figure didn’t sweep in and save you. I hope that wasn’t the intent.

To get back to Dean’s Mark-of-Cain violence, the writers clearly didn’t intend it to come from the Darkness up to a certain point. It was supposed to an arc about your own inner darkness (consider the Charlie episode, a couple episodes later). Then they came up with the idea of The(TM) Darkness, the suppressed cosmic feminine. While it caused a bit of dissonance in the subtext, it doesn’t really change Dean’s narrative, because his inner darkness is the trauma, and his trauma is inherebtly tied to the “feminine” i.e. the parts of him that don’t fit seamlessly into the scheme of toxic masculinity values. That the violence that comes from the Mark of Cain comes from Dean himself and that’s it, or is connected to the Darkness, it doesn’t change what it means for Dean. Dean and Amara have parallel histories, the feminine principle locked away, the trauma the anger stems from.

In 10x09 we’re still in the Before The (TM) Darkness era, before the suppressed cosmic feminine. The Mark of Cain arc is still about... well, Cain. But the shift is the signal that someone looked at Dean’s arc and said... you know what? “Lucifer gave me this curse so now I’m demonic and murdery” is meh. “Toxic masculinity suppresses the feminine and it creates trauma which rage and violence comes from” is more interesting. I don’t know whose idea it was, but it was a good idea, and surely the idea came from seeing how Dean’s MoC narrative was unfolding.

Dean’s MoC narrative was unfolding in a certain way, in fact, because of a pretty simple reason. There’s a fundamental tension in Dean’s MoC arc. We want him to go murdery, but it’s also our main character, so we don’t want him to do really horrible things because he still needs to be relatable. The audience cannot hate him, so he must NOT do something entirely unforgivable. He still needs to be somewhat relatable, even when demonic or demonic-adjacent.

So he goes on a murder spree... but it’s rapists and child traffickers. He’s demon, but he kills a misogynistic dude that wanted his wife dead for cheating on him. He’s a demon, but beats up dudes that harass women. He does a slaughter, but they’re nazi. He’s off the deep end, but works a case of kidnapped and abused young women...

Speaking of which. 10x23, written by Jeremy Carver. Dean works a case where a girl was killed while dressed scantily and Dean makes some slut-shaming remarks, and we’re supposed to think “whoa Dean, that’s bad”. But later he confronts the girl’s father and what does he say?

I’m just doing my job, Mr. McKinley.

By suggesting my daughter was a slut?

I’ll admit that thought crossed my mind. Then I came here, and I smelled the deceit and the beatings and the shame that pervade this home.

You shut your face right now.

And you know what? I don’t blame Rose anymore. No wonder she put on that skank outfit and went out there looking for validation, right into the arms of the monster that killed her.

Back then the episode was super controversial and everyone hated the case because of the apparent slut-shaming but I loved it! Because it’s not about the girl. It’s about Dean. Dean doesn’t think that a girl gets killed because she dresses in a miniskirt so it’s her fault. Dean is projecting on himself and he’s not actually victim blaming the girl, he’s victim blaming himself. And when he absolves the girl by putting the blame on the father... well, subtextually he’s absolving himself by putting the blame on his father. On the deceit and the beatings and the shame that pervaded his own home. He’s textually not ready to absolve himself, of course, he summons Death to ask him to kill him later, but subtextually he’s on the right path.

Rose McKinley basically did the same mistake Dean did at the CBGB when he trusted some older people who offered him drinks and the same mistake Claire did when she trusted a man who sold her for money because he offered him a place and stability. She trusted the wrong people (in this case, vampires, which adds the whole subtext of vampires and sexuality) who took advantage of her. Except Rose had no one to save her. (Her friend, Crystal, gets rescued by Dean, even if he causes the other hunter Rudy to die in the process.)

Carver’s writing is pretty brutal. The girl made that mistake because was abused at home, so she was desperate for validation and that desperation drove her into the wrong hands. (Rose even has a brother who blames himself for bringing her sister to her future murderers, destructive sibling relationship check.) It doesn’t actually even matter if Dean guessed right about Rose’s family situation, because what matters is what it tells us about Dean. He basically relates to a dead abused girl. Actually all through the season Dean is paralleled to “skanks” “sluts” and sex workers. Obviously this happens kinda all through the show, the whole “the business is based on absent fathers” thing happened much earlier in the story, so it’s not new. But s10 draws a picture of female suffering - abuse, manipulation and death. Season 10 was difficult to go through. In hindsight, it was probably on purpose because it was supposed to be darkest hour of the feminine. Summed with some good old fashioned misogyny, but hey.

The Carver era was wonky but Carver wanted to free the feminine. (I believe that Mary’s comeback, while written by Dabb because of the showrunner shift, was planned before the showrunner shift.) We thought the Dabb era wanted the same, with Mary choosing life and Amara being independent and so on, but it evidently wasn’t the case. Not a single woman arrives at end of the story. It’s hardly ~Bucklemming or ~the network or ~covid because it starts before the very end.

I’m not saying that dead sluts are more feminist than living women, but if the women die or disappear anyway (and they did) I’d rather have an exploration of trauma than nothing. And I definitely prefer a dead slut narrative that calls out parental abuse than a narrative where women live but abuse gets the you-did-your-best treatment.

Whoops! I digressed! But feel free to ask for any clarification or send me any observation or thought.

[dramaqueeenamby]

Waves: Quarantine

A/N: It's been way too long since I've done something for the Wavesverse, and I apologize deeply. I have a few requests related to this series to complete, but I couldn't knock this idea.

Words: 4K

Warnings: None

Tags: @babe-im-bi @notacamelthatsmywife @missyperle @queenoftheworldisdead @tashawar @valkryienymph @letsshamelessqueen-m @hello-therree @mani-lifes @liquorlaughslove @toni9 @koko-michelle @theequeenofcurses @taylortheeshowpony

Waves

Summer placed her phone inside of the mount and made sure that it was secured before she sat back in her bed, getting comfortable with the mass of pillows supporting her back, and smiling tentatively. “Hi, guys.”

Summer!

Someone tell me this isn’t a joke???? Please???

She lives!

Sis, blink twice if you need help.

Summer rolled her eyes. “Ya’ll better stop. I know it’s been a minute since I’ve hopped on live, but it hasn’t been that damn long.”

Summer continued to read the comments where more than a few people pointed out she hadn’t gone live on Instagram in over three months. Her mouth dropped. “Ya’ll lying. It has not been almost six months, has it?” She placed her hand over her mouth when people started dropping dates in the comments. “Okay, I stand corrected. Damn, I’m sorry, guys.”

Don’t be sorry, bestie. Do better!

Damn, ya’ll are so entitled. Celebrities have lives too.

What life? We all been in quarantine.

Rich people quarantine be different from us poor folks, I guess.

“So that’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk about.” Summer cleared her throat. “And I’m going to try really hard to make sure I word what I want to say as clear and as effective as I can, but I know this is still going to end up as a salacious headline. So, it is what it is.”

Oooh, Summer about to drop some tea.

I don’t see her wedding ring, ya’ll…..

I’m scared omg.

Watch this be nothing but a role announcement.

She shrugged and took a deep breath. “Okay, so a few days ago, I did the Buss It challenge, after being harassed by Sanda. And can I just say that filming was a challenge in and of itself? Not necessarily the movements but preparing? I’ve got two kids, twins, who are like the Tasmanian devil. I was literally up at 3 something in the morning trying to record it because my wild children won’t let me be great.” She chuckled. “Kids are something else.”

Summer truly jumped through hoops and was a damn near acrobat trying to figure out when she could not only get herself done up but actually record the challenge. Being the perfectionist that she was didn’t help, but the fact that she couldn’t recall the last time she’d put on makeup and dressed up was a whole other fiasco.

Quarantine definitely brought out her bum side.

“All of that aside, I truly was satisfied and happy with the final product when I posted it. In hindsight, I should have just left it that, but I wake up every day and choose chaos, so I decided to read the comments.” She blew out a breath. “One of the most frequent comments and really, insults, I’ve received my whole career. Primarily, since I was cast as Storm, revolves around how I look. I.e., my weight. I’ve been called fat, obese, out of shape, and so many other things.”

It was 100% true. The minute Marvel announced that she’d been chosen to play Storm, the racists came all out of the woodworks. She was too short, too chubby, too dark, too black. And Summer didn’t care, not a bit.

“Even,—and I’ll tell you guys this, when I first started my SS training, that’s what I call it, SS for Storm Shape, there was a—person who worked for Marvel at the time who came to visit me while I was training.” She smiled thinking back on that day. She could still recall it so clearly. “He basically was pissed because to him, I still looked the same, fat and out of shape.” She adjusted her top and shifted in her bed. “That same day, I deadlifted and bench-pressed over 200lbs” She paused for effect. “What I need for people to stop doing is stop fucking projecting—and I’m going to cuss in this, so if you don’t like it, oh well. I work for Disney, but I’m a grown ass woman, and I’m going to say what I want.”

I am screaming. Summer said we getting alll the tea today!

So, it’s wrong to point out that someone is physically unhealthy now, cool?

The problem is that no one wants to see a fat superhero. It’s not realistic.

^^^^ Tell me you have a small dick without actually telling me you have a small dick.

“I saw Lizzo, whom I adore, post a Tik Tok where she basically said that she workouts to have the body she wants not what ya’ll want, and honestly? Same. She said that her body type is no one’s fucking business, and that’s so true. Ya’ll love to hop on this internet and pick apart people you don’t even know and criticize bodies you don’t even have to live in and move around with. And for what?” She shook her head, slamming her fist into her open palm as she spoke. She was fully invested now. “I know we in quarantine, but damn, pick another hobby cause being a bully is not it, sweetie.”

I really needed to hear this today.

Using Lizzo as a point of reference makes everything you’re saying null and void. Lizzo is clearly overweight and at risk for diabetes, heart disease, just to name a few…..

I been saying this! You can’t look at a person and say they’re unhealthy.

Bodies come in so many forms, and all are beautiful.

“Now, I bring all this up because a lot of people were commenting on my Buss It challenge and pointing out the fact that I’ve gained weight, and guess fucking what? I have, and you know what else?” She leaned over to whisper while covering her mouth with her hands for focused effect. “I don’t care.”

Summer laughed and shook her head. “As others have pointed out as well, yes, we have a gym in our house. I 1000% acknowledge the fact that having the resources that I do as a celebrity and someone who has money puts me in a different category. Hell, my husband has a whole fitness app. I recognize that. If I wanted to keep up with my workouts, emphasis on wanted, I could have. I own up to that, but I just didn’t feel like it, and that’s okay. What’s not okay is to send and leave mean messages calling me all kinds of names.”

Summer had thick skin. She always had. Growing up with her family, who always ensured to feed her self esteem and make sure she knew that she was beautiful, definitely paid off. It was just a combination of quarantine and not having a lot of opportunities to keep herself busy with work that had her feeling some type of way.

“And that’s something else I wanted to bring up.” She blew out another breath and tried to gather her emotions. This was the subject she was almost certain she’d grow teary eyed discussing. “I love my husband to death. My children are everything. Christopher’s family is like my own, but— I haven’t seen my family, like my mom, grandma, brothers, etc in almost a year.” She paused, dwelling on that. Almost an entire year since she’d been able to physically hug and interact with the people who made her who she was. “And I’ve always made it clear how much I fucking love my family. I live in Australia. I can’t do a drive by with grandma so I and my kids can at least see her on the doorstep.” She quieted again, eyes darting off as she quietly cursed. “I’m trying really hard not to cry right now.”

Please don’t cry, bestie.

This is the side of quarantine that people don’t talk about enough.

Has this woman never heard of FaceTime????

I feel her pain. I live in Europe, and my family is in the states. This quarantine has been brutal.

My grandma died from COVID, and I couldn’t even go to the funeral. Summer is bringing up a good point.

“Damn,” Summer chuckled bitterly and wiped at the tears that fell. “I’m okay, I promise. I just bring this up because quarantine has also been very hard for me in that aspect. At certain points, I’ve been down, I’ve been in my head a lot, and I just was not, for the most part, in a space where I felt like I had to keep up my fitness regimen. And that’s okay. I put my mental wellbeing ahead of making sure my body is socially acceptable. Sue me.”

I really appreciate her honesty.

Summer never goes beyond surface level in interviews, so seeing her this vulnerable is really surprising.

Are we supposed to feel bad for her? She’s rich. She can afford whatever help she needed.

These comments are not passing the vibe check.

Ya’ll are all mental health advocates, but when a black woman is opening up about her struggle, it’s discarded?

“And let me make this clear too, I have an amazing husband who is so patient and so kind. He’s one of the best people I can go to when my anxiety hits, so I don’t want this to come across as me complaining that I’ve been alone. I have him and our children. I just miss the rest of my family. That’s all.” She dried her eyes and started to read the comments, unsurprised by the mixed reaction. She expected as such and was unaffected. At least until she saw one comment.

@ChrisEvans: ❤️❤️❤️

“Evans!” Summer wasn’t expecting to see his name pop up. It’d been such a task convincing him to join IG, let alone teaching him how to operate it. “Let’s go live.”

Not my husband and wife in my head about to go live!!!!

Imagine being able to call Chris Evans your best friend

I still say they smashed idc

It’s Christopher Jamal Evans hopping on this live for me.

^^^ I’m so sick of y’all with that shit.

“Let me try to add him,” Summer spoke to herself, scrolling through the comments to find his so she could request him. “Alright, I requested him. Let’s see if he answers.”

She wondered if she should have sent him a text asking if he was available when he appeared on her screen, effectively splitting it with her on the top and him on the bottom.

“Punk.”

“Kid.”

Summer smiled and greeted, “Hi, best friend.”

He chuckled. “How you doing, Summer?”

“Clearly not as good as the people watching,” she chimed. Summer saw nothing but heart eyes and hearts in the comments. “These people really love you. You truly are a manipulative bastard. He’s an asshole, guys.”

“Don’t be jealous, Summer. It’s so unbecoming of you.”

“You can go to hell.”

“Language,” he playfully reprimanded. “Where are the kids?”

“At preschool. Things are finally starting to open back up over here. Thank God.” She clasped her hands together. “Y’all, please wear masks. Don’t be Karen’s.”

Chris laughed, grabbing his chest. “We’re getting there, Summer.”

“The lies you tell,” she countered. “Don’t A Starting Point, me. Ya’ll are far from getting there, and I’m tired of it. I wanna see my family.”

He sighed. “I know, but how are you feeling today?”

“I got rid of the kids, so that’s definitely a weight lifted,” she answered honestly, laughing when she saw judgmental comments in the chat. “Listen, if you’re a parent, you know where I’m coming from. You love your kids, but my god, sometimes you just need some space.”

“As soon as this all blows over, I told you to send em’ by me for a couple of weeks.”

“Best friend, I already purchased their tickets.” He laughed. “As soon as I get the green light, they are all yours. Feel free to keep them.”

“You guys see how she is?” He pointed to Summer, leaning and squinting to read what was being said. “I do love kids, especially the twins, they’re amazing.”

“He is really really great with them, guys,” Summer added. “One thing about Evans, he’s patient as hell and really, just a big kid. Why do you think him and Christopher get along so well? 40 going on 4.”

“I resent that.”

“Is it a lie though?”

He hesitated. “No.” They both laughed.

I’m loving the dynamic between these two so much.

Is it just me or are they flirting with each other…..

Ain’t nothing inappropriate about this conversation. Ya’ll are reaching…

Ya’ll remember that blind item that came out years ago alleging Chris (Evans) was the biological father of the twins? Hmm…..

^^^^^This kind of bullshit is the reason we’re in a global pandemic.

As always, Summer and Evans ignored any foolery that was being dropped in the comments when she caught a comment that didn’t contain some ridiculous rumor.

“Yes, it is true that Evans and Christopher weren’t allowed to do press together anymore. Ya’ll, they literally could not stay serious for more than a minute. I felt so bad for the poor interviewers.”

“Hey, we were not that bad,” Evans protested, his Boston accent more prominent.

She gasped. “You guys were terrible, Evans, and you know it. I was so mad when they put me with ya’ll those few times. I could barely hear the interviewers over your laughing and stupid commentary that literally no one asked for.”

“We did not.”

“There’s deadass video proof, Evans.”

“Fake news.”

She opened her mouth but caught herself. “I was about to say something.”

He laughed and asked, “Do you remember how we all got drunk before the Infinity War premiere?”

“No, ya’ll got drunk. I was big and pregnant, remember?”

“No,” he dismissed. “You were drinking with us.”

“Evans, how was I drinking when I was pregnant?” She challenged and reminded. “I got drunk with ya’ll for the Endgame premiere, not Infinity War.”

“That’s right,” he remembered and chuckled. “You think we’ll get in trouble for saying this?”

She shrugged with one shoulder. “You’re dead, Christopher never gets in trouble for anything, and I do what I want. I think we’re good.”

Kevin Feige watching this live right now like 🥴🥴🥴🥴

I never realized how arrogant she is……

LMAO. Not the whole cast showing up drunk to the biggest premiere of their lives.

Chris Evans is too damn fine to be approaching 40 and still single.

Their friendship is so goals omg

@ChrisHemsworth: Snitches

Summer’s jaw dropped as she caught the last comment, swiping up to click the name and make sure that she was reading correctly. “Christopher, what the hell are you doing on my live?”

Evans brows furrowed. “Hemmy is here? Shouldn’t he be working?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Summer supplied. “And how long have you been watching?”

@ChrisHemsworth: Long enough.

She smiled nervously and looked off to the side. “I feel weird now. I don’t like when he watches my lives.”

“Aren’t you guys married?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up?”

Evans lifted his hands in a defensive manner. “Touchy subject, I see.” They shared another laugh as he cleared his throat. “Why don’t you add him now? I’m supposed to be helping Scott cook.”

“My favorite Evans,” she gushed and furrowed her brows. “You, cooking? Since when?”

“Get out of here.” He waved her off and reminded. “I’m not the one who constantly causes near fires when in the kitchen.”

“So, you really just putting all my business out there like that?”

“Summer, it’s not secret to anyone that you can’t cook for shit.”

“Wow, it really be your own best friends.”

He chuckled. “Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, punk,” she blew a kiss. “I’ll text ya’ later.”

“Alright.” He smiled for the camera. “Thanks for having me everyone.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said jokingly. Evans and Summer said goodbye one last time before he left the live. She blew out a breath and ran her hand through her hair. “Baby, comment something so I can add you. It’s too many comments to wade through.”

Summer adjusted her phone and checked the time on the clock on the wall. It’d been a while since the kids were away at school, and she didn’t want to get so caught up that she was late picking them up.

@ChrisHemsworth: I can’t. I’m too drunk.

Summer released a mixture of a laugh and a snort reading his comment. “You are so damn petty.” She clicked his name and adjusted her outfit while waiting for him to answer. She almost cursed when it seemed like he wasn’t going to join, only for her to smile when his face appeared on her screen.

“Hi,” she greeted in a soft voice with a small smile.

“Hello, Sandcastle.”

“Did you just—I swear to god, it’s always something with you.” Summer rubbed her temples and shook her head. Christopher smiled in response. “Why aren’t you working?”

“I am.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re working, how are you talking to me?” She asked, sassily.

“Umm, a little thing called multitasking, ever heard of it?”

“Wow. You are an asshole.”

“That’s mean.”

“You’re mean.”

“Christopher, you are literally a child.”

“Does a child have muscles like this?” He flexed, and Summer stilled. Christopher stayed in ridiculous shape, but this was another level. He’d never been this massive, and she wasn’t too proud to admit that. Just not aloud.

She faked a yawn. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

They really just be roasting each other all the time, and I’m here for it.

Summer must be legally blind because this man is stupid fine tf

It’s gotta be steroids. That’s not natural.

^^^^^He’s the god of thunder.

Summer rolled her eyes at the typical nature of the comments. These were the reasons she limited her time on social media and especially stayed away from reading the comments. Her attention was redirected to the top of her phone. It was a text from Christopher asking her to call him.

“But we’re—oh, I get it.” She realized he wanted to talk to her, not her and her tens of millions of followers. “Alright, guys, I’m gonna get off here so I can talk to my husband, alone.”

“She just doesn’t want to share me with you all, that’s all.”

“Don’t even start, Christopher,” she lectured while he laughed and got serious, for a minute tops.

“Hope you all are taking care and staying safe,” he spoke honestly. “And we’ll talk to you soon.”

Summer waved and smile. “Bye, guys. Remember to be kind.” Summer offered a final smile before ending the live. Closing up the app, she moved to open FaceTime and called up Christopher. He answered almost immediately. “You know I hate when you watch my Lives. Now, how much did you see?”

“Enough to know you’re coming to see me tonight.”

She laughed aloud. “Funny.”

“I’m serious, Summer.” Focusing on him, she realized that there was no humor in his voice nor his expression. Summer also noticed that he didn’t have the Thor wig on yet, which was probably why he was able to go live with her. He was waiting to get into hair and makeup. “Leave the kids with Liam. It’s not like he’s doing anything.”

“Christopher!”

“What? Is he not a professional unemployed bastard.”

Summer’s smile remained as she shook her head. “You are so mean.”

“I’ll handle the flight arrangements. You, my beautiful wife, just make sure you get on the jet so I can handle you.”

“Christopher, you’re working. People with everyday jobs don’t just up and show up to their spouses workplace because they miss them or need a break from the kids. That’s how folks get fired.”

Christopher started to move around, walking somewhere, she realized. “What are you doing?”

“Hey, Tike.”

Summer’s eyes widened slightly. “Christoper!”

“Sup, man?” Taika asked casually, as Summer laughed again. Taika Waititi was such a character.

“You mind if Summer comes up for a few days?”

“Sure, man,” he replied almost right away. “Bring the kids and chickens too.”

“I am not bringing those damn chickens,” she immediately protested.

Christopher made a sound. “Ha, so you are coming!”

“I didn’t say that.”

Taika joined Christopher so that he was in camera. “Hey, Summer, why don’t you come on join? You can have a cameo. Chickens, too.”

She rubbed her temples. Taika’s and Chris’s friendship would never not make sense to her. They were cut from the same cloth. “One, hey. Two, I was already in Ragnarok. I’m good on the cameos. Three, what is with ya’ll and those creepy looking chickens?”

“Whoa, creepy? What did the chickens ever do?”

“Exist,” Summer answered dryly. She still hadn’t forgiven Evans and Christopher for convincing her to let the kids keep those damn things. Her home was becoming more and more of a farm with each animal that joined the household.

“Tough crowd, that one, ehh?”

“Always,” Christopher agreed.

“I can hear you both,” she reminded and groaned loudly. Summer would love to spend a few days away from the kids. Chris would be working, yes, but she’d at least get some time for herself. Even better, alone adult time with her husband. That had also been a bit tricky during quarantine because of her rambunctious twins. Still, she disliked using her status as a celebrity to gain things, and this would definitely be a case of using status for pull. “I don’t know….”

Deep in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized that Chris had walked away and returned to wherever he was prior to finding Taika, most likely his trailer.

“What if you only stayed a night?” Chris tried to bargain. “The flight is only an hour and a half. That will give you more than enough time to come here, let me fix you dinner, run you a nice bath, maybe get in the good ole’ horizontal tango—”

“You know I hate when you call it that,” she reminded quietly, admitting. “That does sound nice, though.”

“Or, I can come to you—“

“Absolutely not. Christopher, you’re already doing so much back and forth as it is.” One of the good things to come out of quarantine, to Summer at least, was that it forced many people to take a much needed break. Her husband was one of those people. Christopher had been working nonstop since she met him. Project after project, film after film, many of them Marvel films, which put a whole other layer of difficulty what with the strenuous physical requirements. Even now as he shot Thor 4, he was in the best shape he’d ever been, muscles nearly tearing the cotton of his clothes. He looked amazing, but it was what they couldn’t see that she was starting to grow a little concerned over. Christopher wasn’t as young as he once was. He had to slow down, eventually.

Summer realized this would be a perfect chance to have a conversation about just that with him, which all but led her to her final decision.

“Alright,” she conceded, finger up as she made her demands. “Three days, and I stay at the house while you shoot. We may be returning to normal, but we’re still in a pandemic. I won’t go around anyone except you.”

“So I get you all to myself? Hardly consider that a stipulation.”

“And…we talk.”

“After the horizontal tango—“

“I swear to God, if you don’t stop calling it that—“

“What was that, sweetheart? I wasn’t listening.” She saw that he had paused the screen, causing Summer to remember that she hadn’t even consulted with the babysitter. “Making flight arrangements for you.”

“Shit, let me text Liam and make sure he’s available.”

“He gets reception in the box?”

“Christopher! For the last time, your brother is not living in a box.”

“Do you know that for certain?”

“Goodbye, Christopher,” she prepared to end the call before smiling softly. “I love you, Christopher, and thank you.”

He winked. “I’ll always do anything for you, Summer. Anything.” A beat. “Don’t forget to leave the clothes. You won’t need them.”

“Christopher!”

[pbaintthetb]

quick fic

wrote this because i need to write but lack motivation, and I’m not posting it because it’s not neatly wrapped up but anyway

“I’m here to see the Sect Leader,” Xichen tells the Nie disciples who greet him at the gates. He’s greeted with a nod and a fond eye roll, his presence here is not unfamiliar, frequently coming to drag poor little A-Sang out of trouble.

(How much of that had always been a lie? How much had these disciples known it was a lie. Is it all an act? All of them?)

“He’ll meet you in his office,” one of the disciples tells him pleasantly, “Feel free to wait for him there.” In the corner of his eye he can notices a flurry of green, but he nods and walks the familiar path.

A-Sang, A-Yao. It’s too late for Da-ge, Mingjue is gone, and it’s like a gaping hole in his chest, but maybe he can stop the rest of the tragic story playing itself out again. Stop Huaisang from ruining himself.

“Er-ge?” Huaisang says warily as he enters the office to find Xichen standing there. His fan is up over his mouth and his eyes are wide, but this is just how Huaisang had looked in the temple, and it sends eerie chills down Xichen’s spine.

His silly, foolish, lazy, idle little brother is none of those things. At least not anymore, but maybe Xichen can restore it. Now that he’s looking for it, now that he knows it’s there, he can see it in Huaisang’s eyes. A certain sharpness, warily tracking him.

Or maybe Xichen’s imagining it, so desperate for it to be there, for there to be a sign of everything Huaisang was and will be (won’t be, Xichen will fix it) again. But if even A-Yao had never noticed...

There is no point in wasting more time, so he swallows everything down and lays his cards out on the table. Mingjue had always valued forthrightness and honesty and had tried to instill those in Huaisang. Huaisang had hated Jin Guangyao because he had lied. Honestly should work, it has to.

“I know what you’re planning, A-Sang,” Xichen says, doesn’t whisper it, says it bravely and solidly so his confidence doesn’t abandon him. He needs to do this properly, needs to save as much of his brothers as he can. He can’t watch themselves tear themselves apart once more.

“Planning?” Huaisang says after a short pause, “I don’t know what you’re talking about? I really don’t know. I promise Er-ge! What do you mean?”

It was one thing to listen to Huaisang’s frantic denials and confusion when he had thought it real. It had been almost endearing, if sometimes a little worrying or irritating. Now, when he knows it has so much falseness in it, it sends a trickle of ice down his spine. He resists the urge to shudder, but maybe not enough because Huaisang’s eyes go wider still.

Xichen reminds himself that his sword is at his hip and his erhu hangs on his other side. Then he mentally prods himself, because why does his brain think he’d need protection from Huaisang? No matter what, Huaisang, his da-ge’s didi, would never hurt him. And, not to be rude, but Huaisang never had a particualry  strong core.

He shakes himself to get over the silliness and takes the plunge.

“I know about Da-ge and what you’re planning with A-Yao. How you want to destroy him, make sure he could never come back and-” He doesn’t finish his thought before Huaisang interjects.

“Er-ge? Are you okay, what about Da-ge? I don’t know what  you mean?”

“No, Huaisang.” He blocks off once more, he won’t play this game now. He fell for it before, in the temple, and A-Yao had died. He had done unforgivable things, but he hasn’t necessarily done them all yet this time. Maybe he can be saved, and he didn’t deserve to die.

“I have,” he pauses, “certain knowledge, Huaisang. I have seen, some things.” He swallows, and sees Huaisang watching him like a hawk over his fan, but his brow furrowed to keep up the illusion of confusion. A-Yao had said he’d never see through Huaisang’s mask, but Huaisang is still early in his game, and Xichen knows, he thinks he might now.

“San-ge led to Da-ge’s death.” Xichen tells the other man, as though  Huaisang doesn’t already know. “And I know you want to destroy him for it.”

There is no response, just the feeling that every inch of him is being measured and none of it is being deemed good enough.

“But why would San-ge hurt Da-ge?” Huaisang asks him eventually, voice trembling- and was Xichen too early? Has he ruined everything? Would Huaisang never have come for A-Yao? Or maybe this is right, and they can talk it over, and get justice together and without utterly destroying A-Yao in the process.

“Their relationship was very strained by the end,” Xichen acknowledges heavily. It didn’t make it right, but it made it make sense in hindsight. “I think San-ge...” he trails off, unsure how to continue. He shakes his head, this isn’t the point anyway.

“I know what you’re going to do, Huaisang. I’ve seen it. You’re going to trick him, and trap him and kill him. But you’re smart- no, I’ve seen that too. If we work together we could help him.” He swallows, “please, A-Sang.”

There’s an odd laugh.

“The way you talk, Er-ge. You make it sound as if you’re from the future,” Huaisang chuckles lightly again, and it is an absurd thought.

Xichen nods.

“Oh,” Huaisang tells him, ugly and flat, fan snapping shut to reveal a very displeased expression. “So tell me, Zewu-jun, did it hurt, what I did to him?”

Xichen gapes, he hadn’t expected this, at least not this fast.

“I’m not an idiot-” Xichen knows that now, “And I’m guessing, despite everything. Despite probably knowing more than me about what that bastard had done, you’ve still come to me first? He murdered my brother, and you’ve come to me to tell me to stop?!” Huaisang’s voice is full of venom, but no louder than a hiss.

The smaller man stands up loudly and clumsily, knee banging into a desk as he does so.

“Leave, Xichen,” Huaisang tells him, full of anger and rage. Xichen doesn’t know how it went so wrong so fast. “I thought you just didn’t know, and that was damning- but this?” Huaisang spits, such an unrefined action for such a carefully composed and elegant man.

“Huaisang,” Xichen says a little warningly himself, “I don’t think you want to challenge me either. A-Yao needs to be brought to justice, but you want isn’t justice. It’s barely revenge- it’s blood thirsty vengeance and I cannot condone it.”

He thins his lips, deciding whether to say his next sentence as Huaisang glowers at him, knuckles whitening around his fan. He needs to save as much of A-Yao as he can, it’s clear Huaisang is mostly gone, but maybe saving A-Yao will help save A-Sang.

“You don’t want the Lan as an enemy, Huaisang. My reputation is far better than yours, I could say all kind of things and they wouldn’t be lies. Please, leave him alone, let me deal with him.” It only feels a little wrong on his tongue, Xichen can live with it.

He’s met with a spluttering laugh from Huaisang, but his eyes are so very firm and steady and hard. Huaisang really is like Mingjue, but not in sharing honesty.

“If you tell anybody about this, about the Headshaker plotting, Zewu-jun, you think anyone will believe you? The only person who would is Jin Guangyao, and then you’ve signed my death warrant as well. Do you want this on your conscience? Can you live with the deaths of both my and Da-ge on your head?

Xichen steps back, his mind screaming at him, and Huaisang takes that as an opportunity to move around his desk and slither up to his side.

“Come back to me with his head, or don’t come back at all, Er-ge.” Huaisang strides back to his desk. “After all, I think we’ve established that I really don’t need you. Maybe I’ll drip all kinds of poison about you into people’s ears. I’m a terrible gossip, and just really don’t know how to hold my drink after all. Someone really ought to stop Sect Leader Nie from spending so much time in Taverns.”

Xichen suddenly has the nasty feeling that he’s walked into a snake’s den. That he really, should never have come.

“But that won’t be you,” Huaisang continues, “Seeing that you don’t like me anymore? Or do you? In which case then I’m still so useless, and not scheming.” Huasiang throws him a clearly false beam, and Xichen just wants out.

“Nice talking with you, Er-ge, now I’m fed up of watching you squirm.”

Xichen leaves as quickly as he can, not taking his eyes of Huaisang, who locks eye contact the whole time Xichen backs out of the door. He doesn’t even try to lay on a threat or impress for Huaisang not to go after A-Yao once more. He’s said all he can say to Huaisang. Now he’s stuck here, in the past with the sick feeling he’s made everything worse.

“The Sect Leader’s a real character, isn’t he?” one of the Nie disciples on the door comments with a slight laugh as Xichen focuses on not looking like he’s stumbling out. “Can really drive you up the wall.”

Xichen looks at him, and can see nothing but friendliness and banter.

“Well-meaning, but dumb,” the woman on the other side comments. The two disciples laugh together again.

“don’t worry, Zewu-jun, I don’t think he knows what he’s doing.” They snort.

Xichen looks at them both, tries to see if it’s a facade, if it’s real or-

He draws himself up, “You should show your Sect Leader some more respect,” he intones seriously. “The-”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Xichen is interrupted, “We respect Sect Leader Nie. He at least knows when he’s got an enemy in front of him. He’s not totally useless.”

Xichen swallows. He’s not quite sure how. But the only thing he’s certain of is that he’s made everything worse. So much worse.

[all1e23]

Bad Habit [Pt.1]

Pairings: Biker!Steve x Reader

Series warnings:  Drug use. Violence. Smut so 18+ please and thank  – No smut this chapter. Sorry to disappoint

A/N:   Part 1! 800 years later. I’m doing my best to get my wips finished by the end of the year so fingers crossed I actually do so. Un-beta’d. So, uh, yeah. Be prepared for that. 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

Two weeks it’s been since his mystery girl came into his life, and Steve hadn’t seen or heard from her since she bolted out of the clubhouse’s front door before the sun had cleared the trees. At the time, Steve was disappointed. He had plans. There was a burning need for waffles and bacon and syrup covered kisses, the exchange of numbers, or the very least names and a plan for next time. All those wants quickly evaporated along with the dust those tires kicked up during the hasty getaway. In hindsight, it was probably for the best that morning played out as it did. If Bucky had been there to witness a girl running from his room at first light, he would never hear the end of it. Before the day was out, Bucky would have the whole clubhouse believing he ran another girl off. Thankfully, the only person to catch the escape was Sam, and he was doing everything he could to convince Steve to forget about it. Sam told him nothing good came from chasing a girl that didn’t want to be chased, but Steve has this feeling in his gut, this time wasn’t like before. 

Whoever you were, you were different. 

Maybe you had him under some sorta spell, and that was why he couldn't forget you. It would explain a lot. You captivated him from the moment you stepped into the bar, and he still saw stars long after you ran out the front door and out of his life. He never really stood a chance if he was honest with himself; Steve knew he was in trouble from the first glance. Two things were apparent right off the bat, you were going to be a handful, and it would be hard, if not impossible, to earn your love. Still, Steve chased after you like a novice sailor following a siren’s melody. He had no problem admitting he was willing to follow you out to the middle of the ocean only to find himself unable to swim in the dark waters you lived in.

In the past, Steve had a bad habit of falling too fast, loving quick and fierce. You would be his last. He just had a feeling things would go his way this time--if he could find you. 

As much as he wanted to see you again, he didn’t have any idea how to make that happen. He didn’t even know your name and had no idea where to start looking for you. Hell, he didn’t even know if you lived in Brooklyn. For all, he knew this could have been a stop on your way home where you already had someone waiting on you. All he had was the necklace you gave him, and that was a dead-end. It was just a one-night stand. He should toss the chain in a drawer and put that night behind him. Most men like him would. They would move on to the next girl and forget you existed. Steve, though, he’s stubborn (so says Bucky), and it’s a good thing he is because it’s always worked in his favor. 

Steve ran his thumb over the gold pendant resting against his chest and grinned as he watched you move around behind the bar. 

The one place he would have never thought to look. 

"Well, I'll be damned,” Steve whispered to himself, still watching as you talked and laughed with customers. 

Natasha mentioned she hired a new girl he hadn’t met yet a few nights ago, but without knowing his siren’s name, there was no way he could have connected the two. He had no idea that this Y/n was his Y/n. Now that he found you, he only had to get past the high walls you built up around your heart.

Steve parted the worn red leather stools to make room for him to lean against the polished wood, drumming his fingers impatiently along the bar top waiting for you to finish up with the man you were serving at the far end and finally notice him. You gave the stranger in dark brown leather a high squeaky laugh in return for the lousy pick-up line he threw at you. It wasn’t the same laugh, Steve knew. The laughter he memorized was light and airy, your whole body shook when it took hold of you, and it made your eyes sparkle in a way that could steal his breath like nothing else. Steve found that out early in the night when his beard tickled your inner thigh. The memory made him grin. He wanted to hate how fake you sounded right then, but it also meant you let him see a part of you you kept hidden from the rest of the world, and that was enough for hope. 

You turned around and stopped short when you spotted Steve standing there, grinning at you, looking just as pretty as he did the last time you saw him. He trimmed his beard, but it was still thick only cleaned up a bit, and those pretty blond locks tucked behind his ears made him look like a young boy. The tattoos on his forearm peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves and the black leather kutte resting over the snug burgundy Henley reminded you he was no boy. He was trouble, and he was looking to drag you into his mischief. That wasn’t going to happen, no matter how pretty he looked. It took a second for your brain to remind your feet they needed to move. Steve slid around the bar as you made your way towards him. 

"What are you doing here?" You asked quietly, refusing to look up from the IPA bottle you were cracking open. 

"Came to see a friend of mine. His wife owns the place. I have to admit I thought it would be a lot harder to find you." 

Shit. You stopped mid pour and set the glass down, half full of foam. That would need a re-pour. 

No. This wasn't happening. Surely, he didn’t mean… No, no. No. 

"Wait..." You needed to know before you said things you couldn’t take back. "Are you talking about Bucky?" 

Steve tilted his head to the side. Now, that had his curiosity piqued. You could see him processing your question, and you knew exactly what he was thinking: Why did you know that Bucky was Bucky? It was rare that Bucky interfered in Natasha’s business at all. Everyone knew who her husband was and what he was, but it never went beyond James Barnes, Vice President of The Howlers. This sounded like you were… friends? 

You should have kept your mouth shut and walked away the second you saw him. 

"You know, Buck?" 

Buck... Oh, god. 

It suddenly all made so much sense, and you were such an idiot. 

“Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? I’m a decent person, aren't I?” You asked, looking up at the ceiling as if someone from the heavens would answer you. “This is so bad. Why do you have to be you?” 

You groaned and dropped your head to the bar top. Your one night stand was Bucky's best friend. Club president. Your Steve was Steve Rogers. The Howler’s MC President. The man who went on the road for three years and no one knew why, the one who went nomad and only returned home a few weeks ago. This was why you never let tequila make your decisions. You always end up doing something foolish, like charming bikers that will break your heart.

“I think this necklace of yours might be my good luck charm. Led me right to you, firecracker.” 

“Good luck or a curse?” You grumbled against the slick wood top. Steve hummed, clearly amused by the light chuckle that followed. You slowly lifted your head to glare at him, and he simply grinned back.

“Definitely good luck, sweetheart,” Steve assured you with a wink.

You refused to smile, and you certainly weren’t going to be the one that looked away first. You won’t give in to whatever he’s playing at. Steve settled against the wood and stared right back; his bright blue eyes glittered with amusement and something else that made your skin tingle and your inside burn with want. You recognized a young blond man from a night or two spent at Bucky and Natasha’s place strolled by the bar, only slowing down long enough to pat Steve on the back, but Steve didn’t even blink at the distraction. 

Nothing could pull him away from you. 

“Hey, Nomad. You comin’?” 

Nomad? 

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute Clint. I’ve got some business out here first.” 

You could hear Clint cackling as he walked down the long hallway that led to Natasha’s office. You wondered what the club wanted here and how often the club— and Steve— would be hanging around. Natasha said there wasn’t any overlap between the two. There was a moment of uncertainty and fear when she first offered you the job. You didn’t know if you could work for her if her business was mixed up in club business. That was until she assured you the club didn’t interfere in her affairs. That put some of your worries at ease, not all but enough to give you the courage to accept the job. Your last run-in with an MC was why you ended up south Brooklyn begging Natasha for a place to stay and a position. That was how you ended up working at Red Star and sharing a pathetically tiny apartment with your new friend Wanda. 

There was no one else, no other friends to run to if things go south again. This was the only second chance you were getting, and you couldn’t blow it on someone like Steve Rogers. 

“Thought your name was Steve?” 

Steve grinned.

“That’s my given name. These idiots call me Nomad when they aren’t calling me Prez or Cap. Stevie on occasion. Everyone’s got a nickname ‘round here.”

You’ve heard plenty about their nicknames and all the things they’ve done to get them. 

“I think I prefer Charming,” you mumbled, walking down a few stools to finally hand over a fresh, less foamy IPA to the grump at the far end of the bar.

Every time you moved, Steve followed you, dodging the bodies sitting and standing, and there were several times you had to tell your heart to shut up and keep the flutters to herself. It was becoming increasingly evident that Steve wasn’t going to give up easily. Seeing as how he would probably be around often, you needed to put an end to whatever storybook ending he was building up in his head. 

"You can call me whatever you want." 

You rolled your eyes and slipped the neck of two bottles between your fingers on each hand. 

“Can I have your name now?” 

“No.” 

Steve laughed. He just laughed as if there was something funny about what you had said. He didn’t seem annoyed or upset by your callus tone. If anything, he enjoyed it. Once your hands were free, he reached for you and circled his long fingers around your wrist, loose enough you could easily slip free if you wanted to, but you made no move to lose his touch. You didn’t want to draw any more attention towards the two of you than you had already. That was absolutely the only reason you were letting him touch you. It had nothing to do with how much you liked the feel of his warm, calloused hands on your skin.

“I could keep calling you my firecracker.” 

“I’m not your anything,” you were quick to correct him. 

“No, you're not,” Steve said with a grin. “We haven't even gone on a date yet.”

Yet! As if there is a chance it would be happening. He was sadly mistaken if he thought there was going to be another page to your story. You raised a brow, and Steve hung his head in defeat, but the smile on his face hadn’t changed when he finally looked back up. Something about this man made you want to hide in the safety of his arms and stop running long enough to see if fairy-tales were real.

That was why things between you would never work. 

“Why won’t you give me a chance, hm?” 

Because you're just like all the rest, pretty and dangerous, the harsh voice in your head screamed. It was probably better he didn’t know you thought he was pretty. He seemed like the type to focus on the compliment and ignore the rest.

“Mmm, I’ve played with bikers before. The ride is dangerous, dirty, and short-lived. The risk is never worth the reward.” 

That made Steve frown for the first time since he walked into the bar and your heart-clenched at the look of concern on his face. For a second, you thought about taking it back. Telling him he could be different and maybe he was a good guy with a half-decent heart—even if you didn’t believe it. 

“Sounds Like you're playing with the wrong bikers. My rewards are always well worth the ride, babydoll." 

On second thought, with lines like that, maybe you were right from the start. You weren’t about to fall for the same overplayed words he’s used on every other girl to catch his eye. It would take a lot more than a cheap shot to get you back in his bed. You leaned forward, ghosting your lips over his and slowly pulled back, grinning when he chased after you. You were starting to like this game, and that was begging for more trouble than your heart could handle. 

“All you bikers are the same,” you whispered, leaning across the bar practically nose to nose. “Sweet talk to get into a girl's panties, and then you’re over it. You all claim it’s love at first sight, but it never is. It’s about the chase, the high. It’s never about the girl.” 

Steve sighed. It didn’t sound annoyed, genuinely unsettled by your words, but he wasn’t irritated. More importantly, he wasn’t aggravated with you, but you were sure he felt sorry for you, which bothered you more.  When you dropped your gaze, he gently nudged your chin up with his knuckle until you willingly looked up to meet his eyes.“One problem with your theory, firecracker. I’ve already been in those pretty panties of yours, and I’m still chasing you. Did you ever think that maybe I’m not playing with you? That I actually like you?”  

The knot wedged in your throat made it impossible to answer. So you shrugged instead and let your silence speak for itself; no, you didn’t think that, and you didn’t trust him. None of what he said proved anything. It didn’t mean he was different. It just meant his rules were. The high would end once he won your heart, and you would be tossed to the side while he moved onto a newer, prettier skirt. 

Steve would get bored once he finally earned your heart and your trust, and that made him worse than the others. You would know. You pulled your chin away from his hand but stayed close enough to feel the heat from his hand.

"Go to dinner with me." 

"Steve--" 

"Y/n," Steve sighed playfully, grinning at the shock on your face. He knew your name, but he still asked for it? He shrugged, reading the question that was burning in your eyes. Natasha. She must have mentioned the new girl she hired, and Steve was smart enough to put two and two together. You weren’t sure you liked him knowing your name. He was that much closer to knowing all your secrets, and you couldn’t let that happen. 

"Go. To. Dinner. With me. Please." 

You hated how adorable he looked begging and pleading for only a few hours of your time. He was so cute, and you nearly gave in. Your head overruled your heart and reminded you exactly why you weren’t dating men like him. It only led to heartbreak, and you would very much like to avoid spending your nights crying over another beautiful biker who rode off with your heart. 

"I told you, I don't want anything serious. I’m not looking for more than what we had." 

"It doesn't have to be more than dinner, and I swear if you really don’t want to go on a date with this will be the last time I ask you. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, but I am dying to get you back on my bike. Next Saturday night, if you’re up for it. You can even pick the place if you want to. I promise it will be dinner only. No strings." 

"No strings?" you questioned, eyeing him for any signs of deceit as you did. There was none. Just an excitable puppy staring back at you, ready to give you whatever you wanted if you’d let him.

"Yeah, why not? We can be friends with benefits or whatever the kids call it nowadays." 

"Are we friends?" 

"We are if you say yes, darling." 

You could feel yourself giving in, and you already hated yourself for it because Steve was grinning victoriously, eyes bright, and pleading with you to say yes. You held up one finger ready with your conditions, and Steve quickly grabbed your hand, pressing a kiss to the back, lost in the excitement of what he already knew was about to leave your lips. 

“One dinner, and I’m not promising any benefits.”

Steve lowered your hand and tilted his chin an inch, so his lips were brushing yours when he whispered, “Good. I prefer to earn every one of those sweet whimpers.” 

Someone behind you cleared their throat, and you quickly yanked your arm back, bumping into the wall of bottles behind you, causing the glass to rattle against each other. Bucky’s eyes flicked back and forth between you, and it didn’t take long for him to put it together. A slow grin stretched on Bucky’s face, quickly turning smug. He knew about your one-night stand, not in any detail but that you liked your mystery man far more than you should, and you assumed Steve shared his thoughts on that evening.  You narrowed your eyes at the brunet when he opened his mouth, and it quickly snapped shut—grabbing the empty crates at your feet needing something, anything to use as an excuse to get as far away from both of them as you could. The fridge in the basement was the furthest you could get at the moment, and that was precisely where you were headed. 

“Don’t even say it,” you hissed as you pushed past Bucky. 

Bucky watched as Steve’s eyes followed you until you were out of sight, disappearing down the stairs behind the bar. He looked drunk, maybe a little high, and definitely a little lovesick. 

“Gettin’ into trouble again, Stevie?”

“You could say that, Buck,” Steve sighed helplessly. “I’m getting into something. Not sure what just yet.” 

Prologue // next  

[mickstart]

hi bestie, I’m honestly still in shock and disassociated with reality after what happened to lewis and I’m so scared to go on social media and look at news articles cause they’ll be going off about how lewis’ dominance is finally ending and whatnot, so I kinda wanted to rant and maybe get reassurance?? that the king is still rising and he’ll only come back stronger cause as nico said, lewis is scarier when he’s hunting from behind??

what are your thoughts on this, are we seeing a red bull resurgence or is lewis only getting stronger and more able as a driver? I’ve only recently got into f1 but I’ve known lewis for years and he’s only gotten more impressive, especially with how committed he is for the environment and equality. will France see the return of the king?? will we see lewis coming back to take the crown like he did in 2018 I think it was? When he wasn’t even leading until halfway through the season?

so sorry for the massive rant, I just wanted to get this off my chest and get some assurance, especially with how wrecked and heartbroken lewis looked yesterday...

;Hey nothing to be sorry for bestie I completely understand feeling a little Out Of It from this! I honestly haven't been able to look at post race stuff with Lewis bc the way he sounded on the radio is just haunting me. Putting this under a cut because I also needed to do a massive rant about how good Lewis is.

First of all: for sure red bull have massively improved and are the best car this year. The regulations specifically target Merc and no amount of Sky trying to downplay how much better the red bull is magically gives Merc the better car again. Valtteri is not struggling that badly with the car because he's suddenly forgotten how to drive, it is clearly a hard car to drive. Realistically, it was only a matter of time before Max and red bull led the championship at some point this year.

But honestly? In Bahrain the scenario we're in now was so far beyond my best case scenario. I truly expected max to lead the championship from bahrain and be running away with it now whilst lewis and merc tried to sort out their problems. The fact that Lewis led the championship - for MULTIPLE races - is like.... it's insane to me. Going into this season I LIKED Lewis as a person sure, but I wouldn't have said he was one of my top 3 drivers. But every single race this season he's been more impressive. His talent, how hard he works, his mentality as a competitor, it has all just been amazing to watch. It keeps hitting me that this is a seven time world champion in his strongest era. I see absolutely zero loss in Lewis' skill, if anything I think he's either still sitting on his peak or still rising.

I know it sucks right now because Monaco and Baku back to back have been terrible races for Lewis, but recency bias is a huge problem in F1 and we need to look at it in context that this feels worse BECAUSE of monaco. Neither tracks suited the W12 and in Monaco Mercedes were an absolute disaster, as poor Valtteri proves. In Baku Lewis accidentally hit one button and the restart went to hell, other than that he was flawless all race and once again got fucked by a bad mercedes pit stop. Also, Mercedes struggle with softer tyres and I think we all suspect the tyres at Baku were too soft for EVERYONE let alone a team that struggles with the softs.

Two bad calls that are entirely on mercedes, and one accidental button press. When you look at it like that absolutely nothing damns Lewis or suggests he's losing it. Quite the opposite actually. It's just unfortunate they happened one after the other.

So Mercedes need to get their shit together - they can do that - but Lewis? Lewis has been dragging these clowns to glory. Lewis has been the apex predator. This season so far has only proven his skill and regardless of what happens with the championship I think that in 5 years time - with hindsight and such - people are going to look back at this year and say that THIS is the year to watch to see an F1 legend at his peak. Lewis has pulled off miracles this year. Two bad races in a row - at tracks where he has to work the car to its absolute limits - don't diminish that.

So yeah, I think that in France Lewis is going to be back at it again. As you said, Lewis always vibes better with the tracks after mid season and at France Red Bull will lose the flexi-wing advantage. I'm not guaranteeing everything will be perfect and rosy from France onward. This is going to be a tight season, and throughout the year we're going to see this pattern of red bull and mercedes trading bad days and good days and tracks that suit either car. Be prepared for that and remember the big picture. But am I worried that Baku means it's 'over' and Lewis is going to get eaten up by Red Bull? Absolutely not.

This sport is made up on hundredths of seconds. We see singular moments where one thing going wrong reshapes the entire narrative. We live in the moment because you have to live in the moment in F1. Sometimes we need to take a step back and see the bigger picture. Lewis was pushing the car to its limits, he lost positions solely because of the team's bad pit timing, and there were tyres blowing up around him with no warning which is a problem that's haunted him before. The pressure on him was immense, and STILL it wasn't really a mental mistake it was a physical one. Not to quote god himself but "Less button?" is a relevant rant today.

I get feeling bad after that race and I'm right there with you I was just sat there in utter shock for the last two laps. But trust me bestie, Monaco and Baku are outliers and should not be counted. Lewis is at his peak and only getting better and I think that Hamilton Resurgence this year is going to be the sexiest it's ever been. You’re feeling out of it BECAUSE lewis making a mistake is so unheard of. Feeling lost and upset when Lewis makes a mistake is itself reassuring proof that Lewis is THAT bitch who is normally rock solid.

The championship is in a holding pattern, neither Max nor Lewis lost or gained anything. Baku might as well have not happened for either of them, so let's follow that example. Strike Baku from your mind, from the record. We are in the same position we were in after Monaco, except we're going to a track that SHOULD suit us more than Baku.

This isn't the first seven time world champion I've defended from the press whilst a red bull driver was leading the championship and mercedes were being clowns, and 2012 taught me how to bite.

TL;DR - Baku means nothing, this is going to be a tight season and there will be days like this, but Lewis is operating at his peak and whatever bad takes the press have this doesn't change that. Baku is over, it's time for France.

[waka-chan-out]

Heyday Meg! I'm sorry about your headache :(

To aid in your recovery, enjoy the first part of the sequel to the Atsumu Event Fic I mentioned a while back. Forgive any typos this is unrevised and I wrote it in one go.

It's not a dry spell, it's just... it's been a while since you've had sex, okay? You've been busy, you're focused on other things, like work, and... various other things that have kept you from enjoying the pleasures of the flesh.

Who are you kidding, it's a dry spell. The last time you can remember having sex is vague, blurry. You remember some things, a sculpted body, dyed blond hair, a deep drunken laugh, a slurred "let's get married" that made you smile. You remember them fondly but the details have been dulled by alcohol and time.

You remember waking up at his apartment and sneaking off before he woke up. It's not that you regretted it, it's just that you were... nervous? Shy? No, that wasn't it. You just couldn't shake the thought that it had been too perfect. This hot guy and this great sex and this... really really nice apartment, Jesus. It was all too much. You didn't want him to wake up and break the spell. So you left.

You'd never regretted a decision more because now it was months later and the last time a guy made you orgasm you were too drunk to really remember it. You wish you'd stayed. Even if the sex had been bad, it would have been sex. Hindsight was 20/20, its not like you could go back to his apartment and beg him to take you back. "Hi remember me? We fucked in my car a few months ago and I haven't been able to stop thinking about your dick!" It would be a disaster.

You're picturing it now though. You might just be that desperate. It's a funny thought for a moment. What would he say?

"Y/n!"

You can almost hear him saying your name.

"Hey! Y/n!"

You do hear him saying your name. You're not hallucinating (you aren't gagging for it that hard), some guy is actually calling you.

You turn and see him running towards you and you have to blink a few times to confirm but he's just as gorgeous as you remember. Maybe more so, he's wearing g tight jeans and a t-shirt that moves with his heaving chest on every breath.

"Atsumu?"

His face splits into a grin. "It is you! And ya remembered me."

You look at him for a trace of hurt or accusation on his face but he just looks pleased to see you.

"Yeah." You smile, it's hard not to get wrapped up in his enthusiasm. "It's been a while."

He grins and flushes and you get a flash of that same expression, drunk and appreciative and shameless. It's all coming back. You see memory dawn on his face too and your heart breaks a little at the genuine remorse you find written across his face.

Atsumu's hands clasp around one of yours. He holds the hand up between the two of you, almost gentlemanly. "I'm sorry, I just saw ya walking by and I... I had to talk to ya. Sorry. I'll go."

"No." It comes out of your mouth embarrassingly quickly. You see hope light up on his face. He's an open book. You make up your mind. "Walk me to my car?"

He grins again, bright and edged with something smug and knowing. "Where have I heard that before? Up for a repeat performance?"

You roll you eyes. "The asshole act is a little less charming when I'm sober."

"Still pretty damn charming then."

A laugh bursts out of you before you can stop it. You walk in silence for a moment before you feel you have to say something. "I'm sorry too. For leaving, that morning."

He shakes his head. "Ya don't have to apologize for that."

"I do. It didn't have anything to do with you, I swear."

"Ya know 'it's not you, it's me' is not a line of reasoning that works ever, right?" Atsumu laughs.

You groan "I'll figure out another way to word it."

"Ya don't have to, I mean, clearly my performance wasn't the problem." He strikes a silly pose and thats the only way you know he's not 100% serious. He doesn't miss the way your eyes track over his body. He smiles. "Is that how it is?"

You tear your eyes away. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Ya want me, ya don't want me, ya think I'm hot, ya don't think I'm hot. The messages are a little mixed, princess."

"Don't call me that. Who said I thought you were hot?"

"You." He said. "With every part of your body except your mouth." His eyes settle in that particular part of your face. You swallow and watch him follow the motion.

"Is that how it is?" Your voice sounds breathless.

Your car comes into view, the sun setting on the abandoned parking lot. You look at him. He's still looking at you. You lead him to the car and he spreads his arms. "My old friend! Lots of good times in this thing."

You smile and watch his arms move under his t-shirt. You let him catch you watching. He moves closer to you, till there's barely any space between the two of you, your car is warm against your back.

"Why'd ya leave? That day?" His voice is low and soft, vulnerable, but hesitant, like he's ready to go back to joking in a minute.

"I was scared."

"Of me?"

You shake your head. "Of us. Of... this." You gesture between the two of you.

"And now?" There's that hope again, bright and wonderful.

You shrug. "No one... no one has touched me, since that night. Since you."

Something dark and lustful blooms in his eyes. "That so?"

You nod.

He smiles. "Well we can fix that."

He dips down to kiss you. His hands spread across your back and pull you closer to him. His tongue slips into your mouth and his thigh comes up between your legs. You grind down and throw your head back to moan.

"Shh," he says softly into your ear. He lifts you up so that you're sitting on the trunk of your car.

His hand comes down under your waistband and it's so warm.

"So wet, just for me. Did ya think about me? After ya left? Think about me fucking ya in this car, making ya laugh? Making ya come? I did. I couldn't stop thinking about ya."

"Atsumu-" You throw your arms around  Atsumu's shoulders and bury your face in his neck as he fucks his fingers into you, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing slow circles into your clit. "I remember. Ya said I had a pretty smile."

You move back and grab his chin while he gives you that pretty smile. "Atsumu make me come." You plead. "Atsumu make me fucking come."

He picks up the pace and sends you over the edge and it's better than you remember, better sober. You kiss him as it wears off.

When you pull away he grins. "Come home with me."

You nod. "What if it ends up like last time?"

Atsumu pulls you close and shakes his head. "I'm obnoxious. Not an idiot. I'm not letting you slip through my fingers again."

fay………..i can’t even begin to describe how goddamn perfect this is. it feels like you’re living in my brain with how much this aligns with the original story and i don’t even know how to comprehend that. WHY ARE YOU SO GOOD AT THIS. THERE ARE EVEN CALLBACKS TO RANDOM THROWAWAY LINES IN THE ORIGINAL. i feel like i’m losing my mind in the best way possible. i had to take a break and lay on the ground for a while reading this. holy shit.

(for context here is the fic this is a sequel to)

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

tag list: @ohno-otome @curapiikt @brittmg13-blog-blog @stationery-store @tanzaniiite @imbearlythere (don’t mind me adding this after it was already posted. this isn’t my writing but it’s fantastic n based on one of my fics so i figured y’all might want to see it)

want to be added? send me an ask!

[yeah-klave]

Love Batter

Summary: Klaus comes home early and catches Dave up to something in the kitchen.

Genre: Pure, tooth rotting fluff.

A/N: This is set in a Dave Didn’t Die AU. He and Klaus made it back to 2019 (somehow) where they’re now living happily ever after.

Word length: 2.6k

Warning: Some light innuendo.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

*******************************************************

“Oh, umm.”

Klaus closed the front door quietly and stood for a second in the hallway, head on one side, listening.

“Umm… yes.”

Klaus frowned. He heard the smacking of lips, shortly followed by another low groan.

“Yes. That’s good. There we go…”

He could hear movement in the direction of the kitchen. Suddenly, the tone of the noise changed.

“Oh, no! Don’t do that! Oh dear. Oh, that’s not good.”

There was a clatter and then muffled grumbling.

“Oh, no. Why can’t you just…?” There was another clatter. “Oh, oops, oh no! Don’t...”

There was a dull thunk, and Klaus heard Dave say, “owch.”

Klaus dropped his keys in the bowl and walked down the hallway to their kitchen.

He pushed the door open and stopped in the entrance, his eyebrows shooting up.

Dave froze in place. He looked up guiltily, eyes wide, a finger in his mouth and his other hand clutching his foot. He was also wearing a frilly apron.

Dave brought the finger out of his mouth with a wet pop. “I… I… I thought you said you were going to be back late tonight?!” he spluttered.

“I did,” Klaus said bemused.

“But, but…” Still balancing on one foot, Dave waved his free arm wildly. Something gloopy flicked off a finger and landed somewhere near the toaster. “But this isn’t late at all!” he finally said, the tiniest hint of accusation behind the words.

“Allison had to cancel,” Klaus said evenly. “I did text you. But maybe you didn’t notice. I mean, it looks like you’ve been a little busy in here.” He looked around the kitchen, taking in the full scene. “Daaaaavve,” he said finally in a light, sing-song voice, the corner of his mouth curling upwards, a gleeful twinkle in his eyes, “whatcha doin’?”

Dave deflated a little. He let go of his foot and looked glumly at the chaos surrounding him.

“I was,” he started sheepishly, purposefully not catching Klaus’ eye. “I was trying to bake you a cake.”

Klaus’ face lit up even brighter. “Really?!”

“Yeah,” Dave nodded, twisting his face into a rueful grimace. “A surprise cake for your birthday tomorrow. I thought I could make it tonight while you were out and hide it in a cupboard overnight and surprise you in the morning.”

Klaus’ heart clenched and he looked at Dave fondly. “My darling, dearest Dave,” Klaus gently teased, “light of my life, fire of my loins,” he broke off and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Even if Allison hadn’t cancelled, I’d have been back in an hour or so anyway. Did you really think you could finish up and then get our kitchen looking normal again by the time I got back?”

They both looked around. Dirty bowls were strewn across the counters, along with various utensils, eggs shells and empty packets. Cake pans were discarded near the hob, a brown, baked-on crust coating the inside. There was a palette knife on the floor, gloopy icing dripping from the flat blade into a small puddle. Also, a layer of flour and icing sugar seemed to have settled over everything.

“Hmm,” Dave said in a mock solemn voice. “I take your point.”

Klaus laughed.

Dave bent down and picked up a cookery book that was splayed open, upside-down, by his bare feet. Dave’s fingers left sticky marks on the cover as he tried shuffling things around on the counter, looking for somewhere clean to lay it down.

Klaus stepped forwards and took the book from Dave. It was surprisingly heavy in Klaus’ hands. “Did this drop on your foot?” Klaus asked quietly.

“Um, yeah,” Dave reluctantly admitted.

Klaus looked down at the book. His nostrils flared and he suddenly felt an irrational wave of anger wash over him.

“Right,” he said with a hiss, baring his teeth, “well that settles it.” He held the book between a pinched finger and thumb and unceremoniously dropped it in the trash can.

“Klaus!” Dave said shocked.

“It hurt you,” Klaus said simply. “It has no place in our home anymore.”

Dave’s face softened in fond bemusement. Klaus watched his eyebrows crinkle together as he gave an exasperated little shake of his head.

“You know I’m just going to have to go digging though the trash to rescue that now?” His words had no bite.

“Don’t you dare!” Klaus looked scandalised. “It’s dead to me now. Goodbye evil instrument of pain…” He waved his Goodbye hand at the bin, but then looked back up at Dave and grinned.

“You really are something else,” Dave said fondly.

Klaus’ eyes twinkled and he reached out and traced a finger over Dave’s cheek, following a gloopy smear of pink icing.

“Well, sorry to break it to you, but right now, Mr Katz,” he said, “so are you.”

Klaus trailed his eyes down Dave’s body, taking in the floury handprints and unidentifiable smears that covered his clothes. Something pale brown and gloopy was drying in crusty matted clumps in his gloriously mussed curls.

Klaus reached up and tried to pull a bit of the stuff out of Dave’s hair. He raised a questioning eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“Oh, yeah,” Dave said. “I forgot about that.” He glanced up and Klaus followed his gaze to where splattered streaks of cake batter formed a modern art masterpiece on the white paint of their kitchen ceiling.

“How…?” Klaus started.

“I tried to use that mixer Vanya gave us,” Dave explained. “But I guess I didn’t fix the lid on properly.”

Klaus looked around the kitchen again. “What’s that?” he said, pointing at a couple of thin, dense-looking – vaguely cake-shaped – disks, half hidden under an empty bag of flour.

“Oh, that was my first attempt,” Dave grimaced again. “Back when I had high expectations. Apparently there is a difference between plain and self-raising flour.”

“Think the clue’s in the name, babe,” Klaus smiled.

Dave huffed. “I can follow a recipe,” he said indignantly, “but I just forgot about the flour thing.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just wanted to get it right.”

“And did you?” Klaus asked.

“Yes!” Dave nodded vigorously, a little shower of flower falling onto his broad shoulders. But then he paused and pulled a face. “Well,” he clarified, “the cake worked okay… eventually.” He looked over his shoulder and then back to Klaus. “The decorating part, not so much though,” he admitted. He scrunched his nose, contorting his face into an expression of dejected disappointment. Klaus thought he looked positively adorable.

“Can I see?”

“Well, the surprise is ruined now, so might as well,” Dave sighed. He stepped away from the counter, revealing the thing behind him that had previously been shielded by his body.

Klaus looked down. “It’s brilliant,” he said automatically. Then, after a beat, he added gently, “what is it?”

Dave grimaced and scrubbed a hand over his face, but when he brought it down, he was smiling.

“That bad, huh?” he said.

“No,” Klaus corrected himself quickly. “I mean, it looks great! I can see you’ve clearly put a lot of effort into this. I was just wondering…” he paused, “well, it’s very... I was just wondering what the thinking behind it was?”

“I know you never had your own birthday cake,” Dave said slowly. “Because you and your siblings all had the same birthday. I remember you saying Grace used to make one big cake for you all to share. But it’s not like having your own cake, just for you, with your name on it.”

Klaus’ eyes scanned Dave’s face. Dave was determinedly looking at the cake in front of him. Klaus reached over and took hold of his hand – his sticky, messy hand – and squeezed. The corner of Dave’s mouth twitched in a smile and he shook himself slightly.

“So that’s what I tried to do,” Dave carried on, “make you your own cake. Because you deserve a cake of your own, with only your name on it.”

“Is that what’s going on here?” Klaus pointed to an amorphous smear of blue icing that was bleeding into the runny pink icing underneath and then dribbling off the edges and pooling on the plate below.

“Yeah,” Dave sighed. “It was supposed to say Happy Birthday Klaus.”

“Thank you,” Klaus said, squeezing Dave’s hand again. “It’s perfect.”

Dave snorted. “Hardly!” he said. “In hindsight, I think I should have waited for the cake to cool down before trying to ice it. Plus, I think this icing is too runny.”

“No,” Klaus said firmly. “It’s perfect.”

Dave raised an eyebrow. “Klaus,” he said firmly, “you don’t need to humour me. I know it’s pants. I’ve seen how well your cakes turn out and this – most definitely – is nothing like them.”

Klaus frowned. “Firstly,” he said, “you grew up in the 50s! I hardly think it was part of the curriculum. Secondly, you’ve met my mom! There’s no way she wasn’t going to make sure all her kids could bake a mean sponge cake! And thirdly – now brace yourself, because this is going to be as corny as the corniest corn bread – Grace also taught us that the most important ingredient in any great bake is the love you stir in along the way.” Klaus looked down, ran a finger through the dribbled icing, brought it up to his mouth and then licked it off his finger, maintaining eye contact with Dave the whole time. “And it’s clear that this cake, Dave, is positively overflowing with that. So, on that logic, this is the best cake that’s ever been baked.”

Dave’s eyes got a little glossy and he pulled Klaus into his arms, burying his face into the crook of Klaus’ neck.

“I love you,” Dave said. It sounded thick and muffled.

“That’s because I’m so damn lovable,” Klaus joked, running his fingers through Dave’s hair. “At least, that’s the overwhelming feedback I’ve got so far from all the people in my life. Oh, no, wait…” Klaus trailed off, grinning.

Dave pulled back, his hands resting on Klaus’ hips. “Well, I find it exceedingly easy.”

Klaus smiled. He reached up, wiped another smear of icing from Dave’s cheek with his thumb then leaned forwards and kissed the tip of his nose.

Dave blinked and looked down at himself again, then at the flour and sticky streaks he had transferred to Klaus’ clothes during their hug.

“Oh dear,” he said, trying to pull away “I’m sorry, baby, I’ve messed up your outfit.”

“I don’t care,” Klaus replied, pulling him back fiercely. “Do you hear me? I don’t care.” He rested his hands on Dave’s chest, his fingers playing with the collar of his soft tee. “And for the record,” he added, “I never want to hear anyone calling my special, surprise birthday cake pants ever again. My boyfriend made me that and I love it,” he nuzzled the tips of their noses together. “I love every sticky inch of it.” He kissed the frown lines between Dave’s eyes, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You still talking about the cake?” Dave asked, his thumbs gently stroking over the strip of exposed skin at Klaus’ waist, his mouth curling up in a smile.

“I can’t imagine what you mean!” Klaus’ eyes twinkled.

Dave grinned and caught Klaus’ mouth in a kiss, a sweet press of slightly parted lips.

Klaus let out a sigh and pressed forwards, their lips moving in a lazy slide. They broke apart, resting their foreheads together and took a moment, just holding each other and breathing the same air.

“Well,” Klaus said, his lips brushing Dave’s as he spoke. “I think we both know what we need to do now.”

“Umm,” Dave hummed his agreement. He paused, then added, “I’ll fill the sink.”

“Good idea,” Klaus grinned. “I’ll grab a tea-towel.”

Dave huffed a laugh and pulled back, grinning. Then he turned to start filling the washing-up bowl with hot soapy water.

Klaus reached up and, with practiced ease, twisted his hair into a loose bun on the top of his head, securing it with a black glittery scrunchie from his wrist. He flicked the radio on and the room was filled with the soft sound of something light and boppy. Klaus flashed a smile and started dancing around the room, collecting the dirty bowls and utensils between enthusiastic little shimmies and finally stacking them in a pile next to the sink.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, laughing and chatting – Dave elbow deep in sudsy water and Klaus drying the items and placing them on the draining board – they were the very picture of pure domestic bliss.

****************************************************************

“And you’re sure I can’t just use the mop?” Klaus squinted at the ceiling.

“Yes, sugarplum, I’m sure,” Dave looked over at him fondly from where he was putting the cutlery back in the drawer. “As is undoubtedly clear from the way I butchered that cake, I’m hardly a domestic goddess. But even I know you shouldn’t mop your ceiling. I’ll pick up some stepladders from the store tomorrow.”

“Or,” Klaus said, “I could just ask Luther to do it. What’s the point of having a giant for a brother if you can’t ask him to clean cake batter from your ceiling every now and again?”

“A completely normal sentence,” Dave said with a grin. Klaus rolled his eyes.

Dave wandered over to the counter and looked down at the cake.

“I’ll just bin this,” he said.

“What?! No!” Klaus said shocked, hopping down from the counter he’d been sitting on and trotting over to Dave. “Don’t throw away my cake!”

Dave suppressed a little smile, looking down at the sticky mess. “Don’t worry, pumpkin, the love-cake speech was very much appreciated. I got the message loud and clear. But you don’t actually have to eat this, you know.”

But when he looked up, Klaus was already holding out two plates and a knife.

“I’m selfish and impatient and can’t wait until tomorrow,” Klaus said.

Dave snorted, but moved aside.

“Make a wish,” Dave said, as Klaus cut two large slices. Klaus turned his face away slightly, smiling to himself. Dave wasn’t entirely sure, but he though he heard Klaus whisper, “No point, I already have him.”

They took their cake and a couple of forks into the living room and settled onto the sofa, their knees touching.

“Ummm,” Klaus hummed, his mouth full. “This is amazing.”

Dave took a careful bite, considering. “I guess it doesn’t taste too bad,” he said.

Klaus sprayed a mouthful of crumbs in his haste to reply, “It tastes so good!”

He swallowed and added with a grin, “One thing I still want to know, though, is why you decided to do all of this while wearing the apron from my sexy maid costume?”

Dave looked at Klaus and deadpanned, “Well, knowing what that costume’s been through, I didn’t think it would matter if I got a little more love batter on it.” Then he winked.

Klaus let out a cackle of laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Klaus looked over at Dave slumped next to him. Tired and dishevelled and warm and happy and alive. And his.

“Like I said before,” Klaus declared in the most dignified voice he could, while simultaneously trying to lick icing out of his beard. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dave looked back at Klaus fondly, a smile playing around the corner of his mouth, and replied, simply, “I wouldn’t have my cake any other way either.”

[buffskierights]

Prompt by @everyones-favorite-bard

Right now the fic thing I have in my head is one where Jaskier is cursed (or somthing) to be able to read Geralt's mind (Geralt doesn't know) (at least not at first) and it is just a constant stream of words, a lot of which are about the bard to his surprise.

Stupendous, inspiring, wonderful, I ended up writing something so incredibly soft and way less humorous than I thought it would be

“Jaskier.”

Geralt’s exasperated voice filters into his consciousness as he wakes with a groan, his cheek pressed against something cool and hard. It’s much too early to be garnering his friend’s ire already today, especially after the night he had. He doesn’t remember much of it, after the eighth ale everything goes a little fuzzy, but if the pressure in his eyes is anything to go by then Jaskier definitely started crying at some point.

It wouldn’t surprise him, he can become a bit of an emotional drunk past a certain point in the night and he’ll find the nearest willing shoulder to cry on. Usually about the Witcher looming over him, he thinks, as he peels his tired eyes open and sits up with another groan. His spine pops as it realigns from being slumped over a table and his neck aches in a way that it didn’t used to when he was a much younger man.

“We need to get going,” Geralt says quietly, and if Jaskier didn’t know better he’d say his friend was being considerate of the intense hangover he’s sporting.

“Mm, Mhm,” He nods with a yawn as he stands up and stretches, “Give me a moment to get freshened up and I’ll join you at the stables.”

As he’s walking towards the stairs he hears Geralt’s voice again, “I wonder why he drinks so heavily these days. Doesn’t he know it’s not healthy for him?”

Jaskier’s cheeks flare with embarrassment and he pretends he didn’t hear the Witcher’s comment as he hurries upstairs. Maybe he can lay of the drinks a bit, if it worries Geralt so much.

—

When he walks into the stables with his pack over his shoulder and his lute case secured across his chest, he’s surprised by Geralt’s voice sounding relieved, “There he is. Glad he didn’t find trouble in the last fifteen minutes.”

“If you know I’m here, dear Witcher, there’s no need to speak as though I’m not,” Jaskier raises his eyebrow at Geralt as he stops in front of Roach’s stall to see the Witcher tacking her up. Geralt gives him a mildly confused glance before grunting and holding his hand out for the bard’s bag. Jaskier hands it over and as the strap settles into Geralt’s palm he hears the Witcher’s voice again.

“Seems awfully light. Maybe he needs new clothes again. Those silks are pretty but not nearly sturdy enough for travel.”

Jaskier blinks and then squints suspiciously. For starters, Geralt has never once cared about the state of Jaskier’s clothing, other than to complain that it’s too bright or too flimsy. And another thing, he’s quite certain he didn’t see Geralt’s mouth move when he heard his friend’s voice. Now, Jaskier is no idiot, despite what Geralt might think, but he doesn’t want to immediately jump to the conclusion of ‘I’ve been cursed to hear my best friend’s thoughts’. Maybe Witchers are just excellent at ventriloquism; it wouldn’t be the first time Geralt’s had an unusual skill.

“He’s being rather quiet this morning. His hangover must be worse than I thought. I should look for some mint along the path today for him to chew on.”

Jaskier would be quite touched by how caring Geralt’s voice is, if it didn’t confirm that he’s hearing his friend’s thoughts. Fuck, how is he supposed to tell Geralt?

—

He discovers, through some trial and error, that the curse is restricted by distance. It seems that Jaskier has to be within ten feet of Geralt to become privy to the Witcher’s innermost thoughts, and the closer he is the louder Geralt’s mental voice is.

He’s gone from being mildly disturbed by the situation as a whole to being somewhat flustered by how many of Geralt’s thoughts are about him. Sure, Jaskier thinks about Geralt a lot, but that’s because he’s completely arse over heels in love with the man. What’s Geralt’s excuse?

To distract himself from thinking too hard about it, Jaskier has spent the last couple hours deep in thought on how he might have acquired this curse, and how to break it. He tries to stay at least ten feet away from Geralt and Roach, or at least he did once he figured out the distance aspect, but the next thought of Geralt’s had been so sad as he wondered if he did something to upset Jaskier that the bard was powerless to falling back into step with the Witcher.

“Maybe he’s taken ill. His face is looking a bit flushed. Fuck, the last time Jaskier was ill was a disaster. Fucking pneumonia bullshit. Whoever came up with that brilliant idea deserves a kick in the balls.”

Jaskier nearly chokes for what must be the seventh time that day as he forces himself not to laugh. Geralt is even funnier than he is normally in his head and Jaskier’s not sure how much longer he can hide his shaking shoulders.

—

He’s come up with an idea. It’s a horrible idea, really, but it’s one born of remembering his drunken crying upon the shoulder of a silver-eyed man who, in hindsight, was very clearly a mage.

He remembers the mage cooing sympathetically as he spilled his heart upon the sticky floor of the tavern, his last ale listlessly hanging from his fingers, and then promising that Jaskier will be able to figure out whether Geralt’s mixed signals are a sign of desire or not. Well, thank you, secret mage, but Jaskier is even more confused now than before as he sits across a warm fire from the man of his dreams.

Geralt is cleaning some gear that’s been overdue for a good treatment while Jaskier himself sits on a log with his arms crossed atop his lute. Both of them are silent as they listen to the crackling fire, Jaskier’s gaze deep in the flames as he thinks.

“He’s going to ruin his night vision like that. I suppose it’s okay, though, since I’m here.”

Jaskier’s lips twitch downward. Geralt’s thoughts have been filled with sweet shit like that all gods-damned day and it’s driving him crazy. Plus, he has yet to even tell Geralt about the curse! And he knows the longer he waits, the worse Geralt’s reaction will be.

“I wonder if he’s going to play tonight or just use his lute as an armrest. I rather like his songs that aren’t about me. The one he wrote about Eskel and Deirdre is especially beautiful when Jaskier sings it.”

Jaskier groans aloud and drops his head to his lute with a dull thunk, and Geralt’s thoughts become alarmed and concerned.

“Is he okay? Did something happen? Maybe he’s ill after all? Or something magic? My medallion’s been humming slightly all day but I haven’t been able to figure out what could be causing it the only different thing is how quiet Jaskier has been. What if he’s a Doppler? Or a changling? Do faes even take fully grown men? Maybe they would if it’s Jaskier, they seem fond of quality bards. He isn’t moving, oh fuck, I can still hear his heartbeat though so he isn’t dead, thank the gods. I don’t know what I would do if Jaskier-“

“Enough!” Jaskier cries as he sits up again, raking his fingers haphazardly through his hair, “I can’t take it! My gods, you think so fucking much, Geralt, I’ve barely had a thought to myself all gods-damned day!”

“What?”

“What?” Geralt echoes his own thought aloud, a deep frown settling on his face.

“I should have told you, I know I should have, but I thought I could figure out what was happening and fix it and then we wouldn’t have to talk about it at all,” Jaskier rambles. He feels like he probably looks a bit wild right now but he can’t do anything about it, “But then I couldn’t think because of how many of your thoughts I was hearing all fucking day and it was so overwhelming! I mean, I barely get a break from my own mess of a mind, and then I had to figure out a way to not hear yours, too?”

Geralt has gone eerily silent, both internally and externally.

“But, gods, I thought I could figure it out and fix it myself since it’s my fault I got cursed by that damned mage last night when I told him how confused you make me sometimes because I lo-“ he cuts himself off as his mouth shuts with an audible click, swallowing hard and glancing at Geralt with wide eyes.

“Because you, what, Jaskier?” He asks quietly.

Jaskier shakes his head, stroking the strings his his lute with his thumb as he whispers, “I don’t want to lose you if you don’t feel the same.”

Geralt looks at him for a few moments but his mind is quiet, “You’ve been able to hear my thoughts all day?”

“Most of them,” he nods weakly, “Clear ones.”

Geralt hums with a nod before waiting until he catches Jaskier’s eye and holding his gaze, “I love you. And even if I didn’t, you wouldn’t have lost me for loving me.”

Jaskier gapes at him in shock and Geralt smirks slightly before it falters, “Unless... that’s not how you-“

“No! I mean yes! I mean,” Jaskier feels his face start to burn as he scrambles for words, “I-I- you... I mean, we... that is to say— fuck, this isn’t— no, yes, I do love you Geralt, I’ve loved you for years I just... I never thought...”

“That Witchers could feel emotions?” Geralt raises an eyebrow and Jaskier feels a spike of flustered alarm.

“What? No! I’ve never— what makes you think— Geralt, no, I would never think that!” He’s certain he’s as red as a tomato as he watches Geralt’s lips twitch into an amused smile and Jaskier groans, tossing some small pebbles across the fire at the Witcher, “You’re horrible, dear Witcher. You’re going to send me to an early grave.”

“Guess I’ll have to protect you,” Geralt shrugs with a grin, “Can’t have you dying on me, after all. Not right after we finally got our acts together.”

Jaskier tries to groan again but it ends in a laugh as he covers his burning face with his hands. They’ll have time to figure things out and actually talk later; but, for right now, he’s just glad he hasn’t lost his best friend while gaining a suitor.