#I wish I had more than 24 FUCKING FRAMES TO WORK WITH

[awkwardgirlfriends]

Two freaky old men lock eyes from across the room...

They both reach a silent understanding...

It's go time~ 😏

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #24: Bar

She leaned on the railing as the night air swept the smell of smoke out of her hair and the taste of alcohol off of her breath. The chill twinge of autumn rolling in made it bite in a way that was almost uncomfortable, almost enough to make her shiver. She flexed her tired hands as she held her arms close.

Footsteps came up behind her with all the confidence of someone who had figured they would find themselves alone up here. All the confidence of a need to escape the throng of voices and bodies and music- Their halt, too, then being one of shock and surprise. Of hesitation and worry as they found someone in their chosen respite of solitude. Not just someone, even. Rakaso’s long white hair parted just enough for her to tilt her head and allow her tarnished golden gaze to fall on them. The wintry framing, the chill in the air, the dark night just beyond her, an absence of stars on a clouded sky… “Well?” Her voice crept the distance like frost. “There’s room for one more. I don’t bite. Come.” She turned away again as her newfound company took slow steps to join her. Eventually they managed to reach the railing, too, and allowed themself a cautious rest of their weight against it. Unsurety filling the air between them. An expectation, she supposed, of some sort of conversation. Or perhaps the unspoken hope that she would refrain from speaking up at all. Unusual behavior from someone at a bar. Or a show at all, really. But some people did truly prefer to simply hold up the wall. Or simply see the sights. Then to slip away without a word to any else involved. She couldn’t fault the behavior. She could fault someone drilling a hole into her head with their stare, however.

“You… You’re Rakaso, yes?” Their first spoken words. Fantastic- So they were the one breaking the rather amicable silence instead of her. She almost wished she’d told them to fuck off now. “You were on stage earlier.” “That I was.” “Your voice is… a lot calmer than I expected.” She resisted the urge to laugh or roll her eyes at that. It wasn’t the first time someone had made that comment. Wouldn’t be the last. “I have to save my throat somehow. It’s rough straining it for music as a hobby.” “…Hobby?” “…I have a day job, stranger. One which requires me to be professional. And be able to speak.” Another long silence. Her social skills were impeccable as always. So perfectly friendly and capable of sustaining a conversation with someone she didn’t particularly have a reason to speak to. She just hoped she wasn’t coming off as clipped and uninterested as she felt. Please just let them stay quiet.

For whatever blessings it counted for, silence returned between them in a fashion that Rakaso would certainly call comfortable. The stranger wasn’t fidgeting as much as before, they weren’t staring like she was on fire, and it was certainly not a long and odd pause before the next trying-super-hard-to-make-friends question came in. “…Do you work tomorrow, then?” Gods damn it. “I do.” “I assume you start late, given you’re still here?” “…No, I simply don’t sleep much some nights. I’ll be plenty alert when the sun comes.” “Then are you busy for the rest of tonight?” “I’ll be closing out tonight once the main show goes off stage. So I suppose yes, I am.” Another pointed silence. In the corner of her eye she could tell this stranger was trying to seize whatever strength liquid courage had given them. Oh Twelve help her. “Doyouwanttohangaroundabitafterthen?”

She cocked her head as she took that in. As she finally decided to look at this stranger. A hyuran woman who was most definitely averting her gaze at this point. A decently well-kept appearance. Blonde hair that didn’t look like it was matted with dirt from the road. What looked to be stylings of a regular- She had a pin that the bar sold every so often. She even seemed as if she had her wits about her to some degree. The whole of it made the woman’s approach seem less like hesitance of the solitary variety… and more as if she had been working up her courage. Rakaso sighed. “Look.” She watched the woman snap to attention far faster than was decent. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.” “Uh- Wh- I hadn’t even-” “Ma’am. I won’t say I get this a lot. But I know some folks get ideas from the sort of things I sing about. I’m not the sort to take an audience member by the hand for a night after the show. I work. I drink after. Then I wake up for work the next day.” She watched for a moment as she watched her deflate before letting out an exhale that fogged in the chill air. “Sorry for the letdown. But better it happen now than when you’ve worked yourself up too much. Besides-”

Rakaso motioned as if she was putting a cigarette out on the railing before she turned away. Her claws clicked before her words caught up to their meaning. “I’ve someone I’m going home to tonight, anyways.”

[gaytruffonis]

TLDR: My biggest frustration being a late-diagnosed autistic is getting my brain to re-frame any of my behaviors. I’m having trouble figuring out how to help myself.

I was abused growing up, including some medical abuse, but my mom knew I had ADHD and lied to me and convinced me I didn’t. She never got a diagnosis but would ask me questions like “What are you, autistic?” I didn’t really understand what either of these terms meant back in 2012 when I was 13/14. So of course I said no, not even realizing until later that this was a rhetorical question (I am sighing so hard rn).

Fast forward to now, me age 26, being recently diagnosed as a person with ADHD and Autism. I spent my entire life up until now masking but even that feels like a weird word to use because it was never intentional. If I had needs not being met, I would find a way to get them met without talking to anyone or I would ignore them/push them away so that I “didnt have” that need anymore. In social situations, I made a lot of mistakes and found myself being very confused…so I would avoid being social altogether, or I would drill myself relentlessly before and after any social situation…and I mean any social situation. I remember people always criticizing me for “taking the long way” or not taking the most efficient route, but for me the “most efficient” route has never given me the results I wanted. It felt like I was a robot who had to constantly tinker with my own parts, with the goal being that one day I would be able to exist with other people naturally the way they do with each other. Not a robot, a person.

It’s very difficult to wrap my head around this not being a plausible goal anymore. I spent so long doing what was more difficult to mask symptoms I didn’t know I was masking. I spent my entire life operating under the belief that everybody was trying as hard as me to deal with sensory and socialization and all that jazz, it’s just that I was too weak to do it as well as they did. And it didn’t matter because I was doomed to fail.

I’m really working hard to not have such negative beliefs about being neurodivergent but it’s difficult bc in my brain I always hoped that one day I would just suddenly flip a switch and things would be easier. I would understand people and they would understand me. I wouldn’t spend weeks (if not months) obsessing over one singular topic. When I look back on moments where the autism was probably showing, I have all these memories of my parents calling me aggressive/angsty/spoiled/stupid/lazy/sensitive/etc. My stepdad would always say “You can’t be that stupid” and in my head, I would say “Well I guess I fucking am.”

All this to say, I have a lot of trouble now even recognizing when I’m doing a form of “masking” because it is so ingrained in me, and had I not done it, I would have faced worse abuse than I already had been facing. It took me until I was 24 to realize I was wearing a size too small in shoes because I believed a level of discomfort was just always a part of life, for EVERYONE not just me. I recently realized that I am not capable of crying in front of other people, even people I care about and trust, because when I used to cry people would find my reasoning trivial or tell me that I was too sensitive and they would (and I wish I was kidding) laugh or make fun of me. That is a silly thing to make fun of someone for, I know now, but I’m not sure how to change the behavior. I find day after day that there are a million things I’ve been overcompensating for or putting up with that I thought was normal or I thought I needed to do to keep up with everyone else (no wonder I feel so tired all the fucking time damn).

All this to say, I’m not even exactly sure what autistic symptoms I have or how to tackle them or even really how masking works entirely. I feel like I don’t know anything about myself. I don’t know how to help myself. Where do I even start? People keep throwing this “high-functioning” term at me, which I guess is fair, but I also feel like my bones ache at all times and I have constant rapid-fire anxious thoughts filling up my brain and I constantly feel like everyone on the earth is touching me and crowding me, even when I’m alone in my room. So I guess if I can keep pushing myself through those feelings, I’ll be fine and functioning fine but I don’t really think I can do that anymore.

Any advice or reading material would be greatly appreciated. Sorry if I didn’t explain things well. I’m trying my best out here

[abbatoirablaze]

Ex Wive's Club, Chapter 24

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: major angst, mentions of medical situations, implied smut

“J-James…what are you doing here?” she asked nervously, looking at her ex-husband.

“I missed you guys,” he admitted with a sad huff.  He took a step towards Melissa and she put a hand on his chest, stopping him.  His eyes closed and she nervously looked over her shoulder, “I miss you so much, baby…”

“You’re with your new little toy,” she reminded him, resisting every urge within herself to just pull him against her, “James…”

“I don’t care,” he admitted, “she’s not you.  No one is ever going to be you.  I need you, Mel.”

“James…” He took another step forward, and the amount of space between them was almost nonexistent.  She could smell the calming notes in his natural scent and how it mingled perfectly with the cologne he wore, “We-we can’t do this…”

“I know you miss me too,” he reminded her as his large hands wrapped around her waist and he pressed his lower half against hers, “I know there’s only one cock that can stretch you right…make you a quivering mess beneath me…I know you’re not with him anymore because of it...”

Her eyes snapped up to his, and he saw the same love that was always there for him.  He knew that he’d spoken the truth with her, and how on-point he really was. 

“J-Jasper is still up…”

Bucky’s brow quirked, “what?”

“It’s New Years, James…he wanted to stay up…”

“It’s two AM…”

“He’s as stubborn as his father.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smirk at her comment, “yeah…is that such a bad thing though?  I mean…I hear his dad makes up for it in other ways?”

“Oh?” she teased playfully, unable to stay firm with the man she loved, “you think so?”

“Mhmmm,” he nodded, leaning forward a little more until their lips pressed together, “he knows how to really make mommy moan.”

“J-James,” she moaned softly as his hands slid under her shirt and bra until he was cupping her breasts, toying with her hardening nipples.  He pushed her against the door frame ever so slightly, pressing his erection against her abdomen, “oh god…”

“You feel that, baby?” he asked gently, rocking his hips so that she could feel him on her toned stomach, “every bit of that’s for you…he misses you so much…misses being home…”

“We-we have to be quiet,” she said quickly, breaking the kiss.  She took a step back and looked over her shoulder once more, “g-go to my room…I-I’ll get Jas tucked away for the night…”

Bucky couldn’t help as his smirk built for the second time in just the few short minutes, “you’ll let me stay?”

“When I come into my room…you better be naked on my bed waiting for me!” she advised as she took a step back, “and I want everything, James…”

“You have me, baby…”

“Where’s Mel?” Bucky asked as he looked around the room, “Where’s my wife?”

“It’s falling through…” he sighed, shaking his head, “I-I mean…I’m not mad at it or anything…I should have expected it…but it’s still shocking to me…”

“Yeah…”

He looked over at his ex-wife and he sighed, “I-I know I shouldn’t be coming to you with this…I’m sorry Mel…”

“I called you,” she reminded him, the smallest of scoffs leaving her lips, “my engagement blows up in my face and the first person I call was my ex-husband…don’t be mad at yourself for spilling your guts to me when I did the same thing to you.”

“You’re too good for him, Mel.”

“And you’re too good for Talia…” she added, giving him a sad look, “I-I know you probably think that she was some amazing person, and you’re upset because it didn’t work…but who aborts a pregnancy after telling their partner…who does that?”

“She had her reasons, Mel…”

“I never would have done something like that to you, James…”

He gave her a sad frown, “well I wish I could say that I’d never do what that asshole fiancé of yours did…”

“Steve was your problem,” she reminded him as her hand fell to his thigh, “that guy…he had way more issues than Steve…he thought I was fucking around all by himself…”

“Yeah…”

“Kinda funny though,” she laughed, “the one time I’m not fucking you behind a guy’s back is the only time I get accused of it…”

“Hey Mel?”

“Yeah?”

He reached down and took her hand in his own.  She gave their hands a sad look before lacing their fingers, “I still love you, Mel…”

“We can’t keep spinning around on this carousel James…”

“Maybe we were meant to be together though…” he sighed, “I mean…we fucked up a lot…but we always keep coming back to each other…maybe we should try for real.”

“I’m not falling back into that,” she said, shaking her head, “you always get turned around by Steve, and now that he and Cami have the gir-“

“Mel…you and I were meant to love each other…”

“And I always will love you…bu-“

She didn’t get to finish the words, as Bucky’s lips came crashing against hers.  Instead she moaned as his teeth gently tugged on her bottom lip. 

“Let me make you feel good, Mel…” he begged, maneuvering himself so that the was hovering over her on the bed.  He went to pull away, and he got his answer as she pulled him by the fabric of his shirt back to her lips.

“Don’t leave…” she begged softly as her hands worked on his jeans, while her lips captured his once again.

“Never leaving you again, baby!” he promised.

“Mr. Barnes…” a nurse called, bringing him back to reality.  Monte was sleeping soundly in his arms, as though he had no idea what had happened behind the doors he wasn’t able to go through.

“She lost a lot of blood, Bucky…” Dr. Cho said sadly as she looked over father and son, “she-she insisted that we get Monte first…”

“No…” he cried, shaking his head.  A few more tears slipped down his cheeks as he looked at his youngest, “she-we talked about it…they were both going to be okay…Cho…she-“

“If you’d be willing to put Monte down, I’ll take you to her!” she offered sadly. 

Bucky looked between his sleeping son and Cho.  He took a few sad steps over to the bassinet and laid him down before turning back to the doctor, “Wh-where is she?”

“Mom…dad…come take a picture!” Cami called, waving over to her parents from her younger brother’s side, “Come on, let’s get a family picture for Jas’ birthday!”

“YEAH!” Jasper cheered happily, from his spot beside his sister while she held one of the twins, “Mom! DAD!  COME ON!”

“Steve, bring Stephanie over!” Cami smiled, sitting Jamie beside Jasper.  Bucky looked at his ex wife from across the room.  She was in a skin-tight dress that seemed to lick her every curve. 

She was sin incarnate, wearing a paper birthday cone hat. 

“Who’s going to take the picture?” Mel asked, sauntering over to the table where the kids were sat. 

“Steve?” Cami asked hopefully, “I can hold each of the twins from behind and make sure they don’t fall off the bench.”

“Come on, Buck!” Steve nodded, tapping his friend on the chest, “YEAH!  We’ll be right over, bunny!”

“You’re okay with not being in the photo?” Bucky asked his friend, “I mean the girls-“

“I’ve got plenty of time for family photos with the girls…plus, I can always switch out with Mel once you guys get your photo with her in it.”

“Yeah…” Bucky agreed, only half paying attention while he followed his friend over to the table.  Steve sat Stephanie down on the other side of Jasper and reached for his wife’s camera. 

“Mom…dad…you two stand on either side of me.  I’ll be behind Jas!” Cami ordered.

“I don’t mind holding one of the babies…” Mel offered, “if that makes it easier.  You know I love my grandbabies!”

“It’s okay mom…I want them on either side of Jas.”

Jasper smiled wide and wrapped his arms around his nieces before looking to Melissa, “everyone came, mommy.  Just like you promised!”

“I told you!” she smiled, playfully blowing her noisemakers at her son.  Jasper giggled and looked to his father.

“Everyone’s here.”

“Make a wish, buddy!” Bucky smiled, looking at his ex-wife, knowing that later that night he’d be coming back to the house. 

Mel popped her tongue against her cheek, teasing the super and he licked his lips, mouthing, ‘don’t tease me.’

Her eyes flickered down to his jeans, and he had to stop the growl that wanted to make it’s way up his throat.  His own eyes trailed down her body; curves that he had memorized like a roadmap lived in his memories.  All of the times that the two of them were together.  Every kiss upon every inch of her. 

He was almost thrown from his fantasies when he felt the noisemaker brush past his cheek. 

And what normally would have startled him, he only smiled as her melodic giggle filled his head.

“James you’re supposed to look at the camera,” she teased playfully, blowing the noisemaker at him once more.  He chuckled, pulling it from her lips and wrapped his arm around her waist.  She gasped, and he heard her heart race against his chest, “James…”

“I’m putting another one in you, tonight after he goes to bed!” he whispered huskily into her ear. 

A shiver ran down her spine and she pulled away, ever so slightly, looking at him, “Ja-James!”

“My turn for a picture with the birthday boy and the rest of the family!” Steve urged, breaking up the moment between the couple. 

Both of them looked at him, and it was Mel who snapped out of her stupor, “ye-yeah…yeah…I’m sorry Steve.”

“One more picture, mom?” Jasper asked, “please!”

Her eyes met Bucky’s for a moment before she shook her head, “y-you guys should get a picture with Steve.  I-I’ll take it.”

“Stupid Steve!” Jasper grumbled under his breath, “my wish almost worked…”

“Dad?”

Bucky looked up, shocked to see his daughter standing in the hall, “Cami…wh-what are you doing-“

“The nurse came and got me…I-she’s waiting for Jasper to come out of the bathroom…w-why do you look like that?” she asked nervously, “Wh-what happened?  Where’s mom?  Where’s Monte?”

“Dad?” Jasper asked, breaking up the awkward moment.  Bucky’s eyes snapped to his, and it was like he could read his father’s reactions, “Where’s mom?”

“James…wh-what are you doing here?”

He smiled, his charm seemingly filling up the room as he stood in its center, “what’s it look like, baby?  I came to take care of my girls…”

“James…we should-“

“You’re pregnant with our second child,” he teased as he stepped forward a little, his hand already falling to the plush towel that covered his lower half, “I don’t think there’s a rule to what she should and shouldn’t do right now.”

A shiver ran down her spine as he stalked towards her, his towel riding low on his hips.  Her eyes followed it, and he smiled a little more, practically able to smell how aroused she was as he untucked it and allowed the towel to fall to the ground.

“James Buchanan Barnes…”

“Yeah, doll?” he smirked.  His hand trailed down to his erect cock and he began pumping himself.  His eyes caught sight of her thighs clenching together before they closed, “do you want to feel me pounding away at that pretty little pussy?  Want to feel me inside of you?”

“Yes…” she moaned softly. 

His eyes fluttered open and he saw how desperate she was for him.  His confident little exotic dancer was staring at him as though he was a steak and she was a lioness on the prowl.

“Do you want me to cum in you, doll?”

“James…please…”

“Come here!” he ordered softly, wanting her to finish filling the distance between the two of them. 

"Where the hell is my wife, Cho?" Bucky asked, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Chapter 25

Tag List:  @Cjand10, @huntress-artemiss, @lohnes16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @teambarnes72, @elbell20-blog, @sebsgirl71479, @prokey16

[jammie3132]

Fandom: Glee Pairing: Blaine Anderson & Sebastian Smythe Chapter Title: Back to November Chapter Summary: Blaine has no idea what’s going on and everyone keeps telling him it would be better if his memories returned organically. What happens if he never remembers? What happens if he does remember, but not what people want to hear? Chapter Note: I'm not making any more notes about chapters. This is taking a big turn. Think of the previous 6 chapters as set-up. And since this is like a separate fic, I eliminated my "only MCU canon before Endgame" rule. I will not tag which show/movie but still...spoilers. Warnings: Deaths (not by Snap) of canon Glee characters are hinted at but not confirmed 

REPOST 2/20/24: I accidently posted the rough draft 🤬

Hello, Blaine. My name is Sebastian. It’s nice to meet you.

He stared at the beautiful man…Sebastian. Something about him felt so familiar. It made him feel safe. “The little girl called me Daddy.”

“Yeah, I wish that didn’t happen.”

“Why?”

Sebastian chuckled and leaned into the door frame. He seemed to drop his guard (slightly) so he did the same. “I’m going to go make sure the kids’ lessons are ready.”

“I thought you said they were going to Kindergarten?”

“That’s what we call it…no, sorry. We were told, at least in the beginning, to let you try to regain your memories slowly, naturally.”

“Regain my memories?” Yes, he'd realized he had almost no memories from before he awoke, but how did Sebastian and whoever gave him that bullshit advice know he didn't?

“Tea or coffee?”

“Tea or coffee?” Was this a test? What if he said the wrong thing? Would it mean he’d have to wait even longer for someone to tell him what the fuck was going on? “Uh…I feel like I should say coffee, but I’d really like a cup of tea, Earl Grey with a little sugar and, this might sound strange, a splash of cinnamon.”

Something he said brought the beautiful smile back to Sebastian’s beautiful face. He must have answered correctly. “It doesn’t sound strange. One Earl Grey with a little sugar and a splash of cinnamon coming right up.”

Once he was alone, he got out of bed to survey his surroundings. The first thing he saw was a pair of glasses on the nightstand. He put them on and yes, these were definitely his.

The room was nice but plain. It felt more like an unoccupied dorm room than a bedroom in a home. White walls, hardwood floors and beige area rugs. No wall art, tchotchkes, or framed photos. The bedding didn’t have patterns, just grey sheets and a dark blue comforter with red trim. There was a full-length mirror in the corner, so he went to take a look. He was older than he anticipated. His hair was ridiculously curly and he was in need of a shave. The dark blue pajama pants he was wearing were unremarkable, but his t-shirt had Dalton printed across the front.

The shirt was the only thing that brought out any sort of recognition. Whatever Dalton turned out to be was irrelevant. To him, Dalton meant home.

Next to tackle was the dresser, but when he opened the top drawer, everything else came to a stop. There was only one item there. The only item since he woke up this morning that he recognized without an ounce of doubt.

The lightsaber Tony Stark made for him.

He climbed back into bed but sat up against the headboard, clutching his find. It was an anchor within the chaos of his situation. This Tony Stark guy was obviously important to him. So, why could he remember the lightsaber but not the man who made it for him?

He closed his eyes and tried to settle his mind.

“I’ve told you a thousand times, you can’t overthink everything.”

The voice embraced him with love, bringing out his first genuine smile of the day. “But I can sure try.”

Two gasps, one his own, had him opening his eyes. The sight of the person in the doorway confused him even more than why he gasped at what was said. “I know you…but I don’t know how.”

The woman plastered on a smile and set up the breakfast tray she’d been carrying. “It’s ok, Sweetie. Sebastian told me you wanted tea. I thought you might want some toast as well. There’s some…”

“Honey butter.” The woman's smile changed to resemble Sebastian’s when he answered the tea question.

Another test passed?

She sat beside him and gently brushed back his hair. It was if she’d been doing it for years. “Are you my mother?”

“Not biologically but over the past 6 years you and I have adopted each other as family. About 4 years ago you started calling me Mom. Maybe that’s what you’re remembering.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think I can do that, call you Mom, right now.”

The woman smiled again, easing their tension even further. “I understand, Sweetie. My name is Carole.”

(A younger) Carole stood next to a man in a baseball cap. The man reached out for a handshake. “Call me Burt, Kid. Kurt talks about you so much…”

“Dad! You said you wouldn’t embarrass me!”

Kurt? His first impression was one of fondness but then he was hit with feelings of animosity. No, animosity wasn’t enough. He might not remember this Kurt guy, but he really, really hated him. The memory troubled him so much he backed away to the other side of the bed, bringing his lightsaber, his only anchor to reality, with him. “How have we accepted each other as family when I hate your son?”

Carole chalked his statement up to his memories coming back in bits and pieces. At least they seemed to be coming back. That was progress. “You remembered Finn?”

“Kurt”

“Oh, that makes a lot more sense. Kurt isn’t my son. He was my stepson.”

He scooted back to his original spot, willing to once again try trusting the woman with the kind smile. “Was?”

“I was married to Kurt’s father until he died 6 years ago in a plane crash. Kurt disappeared at the same time, and we all thought he'd died as well. About a year and a half ago Kurt showed up out of nowhere. When he found out how my life moved forward, he said he would never forgive me. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Was it because of me? Does he hate me, because I really, really hate him…although I don’t know why.”

“My relationship with you wasn’t the problem. He hated, probably still hates, the man I married and his son.”

“His son?”

“That would be me” Sebastian said from the end of the bed. Next to him was a distinguished-looking gentleman. Both men's eyes were darting back and forth between Carole and the lightsaber. She subtly shook her head as a signal to let it go for the time being.

He pretended he didn’t notice.

The distinguished-looking gentleman ended the awkwardness with his introduction. “And I’m the new husband, Sebastian’s dad, Xavier Smythe.”

Did he say… “Smythe? Your name is Xavier Smythe?”

“Yes. Do you remember me?”

His focus moved from father to son. What he found had him trying to catch his breath. The man from earlier was gone. The person at the end of the bed was a beautiful 16-year-old boy, dressed in a perfectly pressed school uniform.

And when she knows what She wants from her time And when she wakes up And makes up her mind

”Sebastian Smythe.” ”Are you a Freshman?”

Once a Warbler, always a Warbler. Right? He remembered November 8th, 2011 and November 8th, 2012…as well as every moment they shared in between. He remembered November 9th, 2012…waking up, realizing he’d been in love with Sebastian the entire time and minutes later Kurt telling him he was dead. He remembered every second of pain between that moment and November 8th, 2024…the day he traveled back in time. Everything hadn't returned, only his memories of Sebastian and the aftermath of the accident. It didn't matter. His beautiful boy, now beautiful man, was less than 10 feet in front of him.

“Bas”

Sebastian ran from the room. He was devastated but didn't want the others to know. "Guess I failed that test."

Xavier looked to Carole who told him Go, I’ve got this one. Once he was gone, Carole grabbed hold of his hand not grasping his lightsaber. “I’m so sorry, Sweetie. This must be so confusing. But when I came in and told you to stop overthinking…”

“I said But I can sure try. I don’t know why I said that.”

“Because that’s how my Blaine would always answer. That’s how Sebastian’s Blaine would always answer.”

Her Blaine? Sebastian’s Blaine?

He didn’t know what Carole was trying to say but he didn’t care. Something didn’t feel right. He pushed her away and went as far as he could while remaining in the same room “Get out.”

“Sweetie…”

“I’m not your Sweetie. I want to talk to Bas.”

Carole stood and sighed, a signal of surrender. All the goodwill she'd attempted to build was gone. “I’ll tell Seb, but don’t get your hopes up. There’s a change of clothes in the bathroom if you want a shower.” After she pointed out the proper door, she picked up the long-forgotten breakfast tray. “Please stay here for the time being.”

“You can’t keep me prisoner.”

“I…we’re not trying to. However, there are two small children in the house and all they know is something is going on with someone they love. They’re scared enough.”

With everything that happened between the time the children left his room, he’d forgotten them (couldn’t blame the memory loss for that one). “I’ll stay here…for now.”

“That’s all I ask.”

The shower helped. He didn’t want to say it made him feel like himself again because he didn’t know who the hell he was. More specifically, who these people expected him to be. Carole must have returned while he was in the shower because a new breakfast tray of tea and toast was neatly set up on the table next to the window. Although, this time she'd included some eggs and bacon. He appreciated the gesture. As he sat down to eat, he looked outside (why hadn’t he thought of that sooner?). He didn’t need a rush of memories to know he was at Dalton. But this Dalton wasn’t either of his Daltons.

There was more than one Dalton? Why would he believe that? The only Dalton he remembered was the one where he met Sebastian. He was too hungry to obsess about it now, so he turned his attention back to his breakfast. The food was so good, and he was so mentally fried, he didn’t hear someone enter the room.

”You don’t have face hair anymore. You always have face hair.”

”I shaved.”

“Oh, ok. I got this for you, Uncle Blaine.” Sammy, the little boy…not the dog he still had no answers about, was holding a quart of Stark Raving Mad ice cream. “It always makes you feel better.”

He cocked his eyebrow and tried not to smile. “Makes me feel better, huh? Is there a reason I need two spoons to eat it?” The little boy’s face fell, and his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. “Come here.” Sammy ran into his open arms and quickly settled on his lap. “Thank you, I ate my breakfast but I’m still hungry.”

“Grammy Carole says you’re always hungry” Sammy told him between shoveling spoons full of ice cream into his face. “Uncle Seb said you don’t remember us because you bumped your head. Is he right? You promised you’d never lie to me, but I guess you don’t member that.”

WTF? Blaine shifted the boy in his lap. First, the kid was heavier than he looked. His leg was falling asleep. And second, why had Sebastian told Sammy about his memory loss when Carole basically begged him to stay away from the kid and his sister? “Your Uncle Seb told you I bumped my head and lost my memories?”

“No” the boy admitted “I heard him tell Grampy X. He also said you were the other Blaine now, not his B. I don't know what that means.” That bit of information took him from frustrated to completely horrified. How could Sebastian be so reckless to say this where one of the kids could overhear him? His Bas was an impulsive brat (hello, eye surgery) but the things he did stemmed from being a child (teenagers, no matter what they believe, are children). This Sebastian was a late 20-something year old parent. He should know better!

The ice cream was gone (he might've gotten in 3 bites) and Sammy was beginning to doze off. It gave him an idea. “You heard right, I don’t have my memory and my head still kind of hurts. I was going to take a nap. Do you want to join me?"

Sammy wrapped his arms around Blaine’s neck, making it easier to be carried. Once they were settled, the boy began to wiggle and brought something up from underneath the sheet. “Where did you get this cool lightsaber…or you don’t remember?”

How could he have forgotten his lightsaber? Was he losing new memories every time he remembered something from the past? It wasn’t the time for panic…yet. “I found it in a drawer. Someone named Tony made it for me. I don’t remember him, but I know he loved me and always made me feel safe.”

“Like you love me and said you would do anything to keep me safe...when you remembered me.”

“Hey” He lifted the little boy’s chin, so he had to look at him. “I don’t care if I never remember anything else. I will always remember to make sure you and Susie are safe.”

Any tension in Sammy’s body melted as he snuggled even closer. “Uncle Blaine, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For getting scared and thinking the bad space monster would take me away again because you forgot to keep me safe.”

“Take you away?”

“Pepper brought you to Dalton to recover in peace. No one’s looking for Iron Man in bum-fuck Ohio.”

It wasn’t the time for questions. Tony had been through hell. And even though it had been a month, his brain was still dealing with the reality of Infinity Stones and how an alien got ahold of them, snapped his fingers and turned half of all living beings in the universe to dust.

Oh no, no, no. Sammy had been Snapped by Thanos. Blaine rolled to his side and hugged him as tightly as possible. “Never be sorry for being scared. Let’s talk about that…” He didn’t have to finish. The little boy was already sound asleep, clutching the lightsaber. 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

*Blaine continued to love and be loved by Sammy...the hyperactive puppy* Me? You gave me the lightsaber and the rest of the technology I needed to do it!”

Tony walked around the basement of the Dalton he built, inspecting the time portal Blaine, Brittany and Bruce (technically Brittany and Bruce) built out of the material he sent. “I trusted Banner. He should've called off the whole thing knowing those substitute PYM Particles were compromised! And Barton?! I thought you were the little brother he never wanted. He and his whole fake SHIELD family loved you!”

“They do…did, whatever. And Bruce told me…ok, he tried. I still don’t get all the timey-whimey shit.”

“Which you should've before you TIME TRAVELED with defective particles! I understand not going back to Hank Pym for help. The guy has a Stark hate-boner so big I’m amazed he fathered a child.”

“Like yours for Steve Rogers?”

“Hold on…fine, point for the Bow-tied Wonder. But seriously, Banner let you use the damaged particles without seeing what Britt or that Princess in Wakanda could come up with? What about Strange? He was keeper of the Time Stone for fuck sake!”

“Then why didn’t the Avengers include them in the Time Heist?”

“Dr. Weirdo, Princess Kitty-Kat and our lovable but ditzy genius were dust at the time.”

“Don’t say it like that. It took forever for Britt to realize constantly singing Dust in the Wind wasn’t appropriate, especially in front of others who were Blipped.”

“Yet another reason I love that girl. And before you say Wong, we also thought he was dust…Snapped. We were wrong but not our fault. He’d snuck back to the Mystical Monastery of the Mountains and gone off-grid. Oh, and …THANOS DESTROYED THE STONES. Since we didn’t have any extra laying in a drawer somewhere, I, the most brilliant man who ever lived, had to solve time travel.”

“Yeah, I’d forgotten most of that. Not because of the memory loss, I think, but because it made my head hurt to listen to you and Bruce, or Bruce and Britt, talk about it.”

“Again…you didn’t understand and yet decided it was a good idea to TIME TRAVEL! I should tell MIT to take back your degree.”

“You’re dead.”

“Heroically departed, yet here I am…Iron Man.”

“Seriously?”

“How about*overdramatic superhero voice* I am...Dream Master and Gate Keeper to all your memories, so don’t piss me off?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me. And hey! What about Wanda? She’s a witch with super-sized magic courtesy of the mind stone. Did any of you supposedly brilliant idiots think of seeing what she could do to help?”

“Uh…after you left…”

“Heroically departed.”

“After you left, Wanda tried to get Vision’s body from the government to give him a funeral.”

“I don’t know if I’m more offended by the fact the government had Vision’s body and I didn’t know, or Elphaba wanted to put billions of dollars worth of Vibranium…”

“No, Wanda wanted to say goodbye with a funeral for the man?...person?...cybernetic being she loved. When she couldn’t get him back, she went a little Coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs.”

“How little?”

“Mind fucked an entire town, a small town, in New Jersey into believing they were characters in old sitcoms. Manifested a new Vision and a couple of kids. After the government caught on and all hell broke loose, she freed everyone, essentially killing her imaginary family. Last anyone saw of her, she flew off, no airplane necessary, to parts unknown with something called The Book of the Damned.”

For the first time ever, Tony Stark was speechless.

*Lengthy amount of (Dream) Time later* “And you questioned why I wanted Britt kept away from all that shit!?!”

“I didn’t question, per se…”

“Liar…and why didn’t Legolas do anything about the Wicked Witch of New Jersey?”

“Wanda told Clint, and Laura, she was going back to Sokovia to help with rebuilding what the Avengers and Ultron…”

“No need to elaborate. I was there…no comments.”

“So...that’s why they didn’t question her going no contact. It’s not their fault the government was stupid and for some reason didn’t bringing in the man who convinced Wanda to turn her back on Ultron, gave his son her dead brother’s name and freed her from your house arrest.”

"I said no comments!”

“I didn’t say a word about how you were responsible for Ultron, but if the title Avengers Dictator fits…”

“My bad. And while I want answers, you dream-summoned me to help you understand what the hell is happening in your pudding brain. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop yelling about the fact you never should have TIME TRAVELED with faulty particles in the first place! I’m gone for one itty-bitty year…”

*Blaine rose from where he’d been sitting the entire time and Sammy (the dog) ran off* “Tony…” “Ok, ok, I’ll drop it for now but be prepared to be chastised in future dreams.”

“I would expect nothing less from you.”

*Seconds later (because…Dream Time). Tony is now surrounded by all the computers he’d sent to Dalton over the years* “I figured out how badly you all fucked this up without me.”

“Can we postpone the I Told You Sos as well as the yelling?“

“You take the fun out of everything.”*Blaine answered by giving him a middle finger* “See? Was that so difficult?”

*Blaine answered with double middle fingers* “What did you find?”

“The faulty particles sent you to 2011 instead of 2012. Like with Rogers and his trip to finally get laid…”

“Oh, he’d already been laid.”

“...by Peggy Carter. And I’m still angry with you for not sharing your Stucky theories while I was around to use them to my advantage…in a fun way, at least a fun for me way. I would never use information like that against someone, especially after what happened to your platonic apocalypse partner.”

“My what?”

“That Dave guy?”

“Who?”

“Ok, your memory has improved to Swiss Cheese, but one thing at a time. Like I was saying, you went back to 2011 instead of 2012 and physically became that Blaine Anderson. During the Time Heist, we just had to avoid the Battle of New York Avengers.”

“That’s what I expected, hoped, would happen to me. Did you figure out why I physically became 2011 me?”

“No clue.”

“So, you can’t fix it?”

“To send you back to your original timeline? Not a chance. You wanted to be here, so…ta-da!”

“Not helpful.”

“If you want helpful, I can tell you when you are. It’s November 8th, 2024.”

“The day I left?”

“Makes sense. From what I understand, the Centurian lived decades with no memories of his 70 year side trip. Those memories took over when his two timelines intersected. He did eventually wind up with both sets of memories. My highly educated guess is you’ll eventually do the same.”

“I don’t have eventually. Right now, I have a scared little boy to take care of.”

“Yeah, Sammy. Do you realize you haven’t mentioned Sebastian once since you sought my wisdom? When I was alive you wouldn’t shut up about the guy.”

“Fuck you”

“You didn’t get the big Rom-Com reunion you wanted?”

“Not even close.”

“Did you ever consider the fact that for Sebastian, his Blaine essentially died when you woke up this morning? And you? While you saved Sebastian, Bas died November 8th, 2012. Is that something you’re prepared to accept? And what about Sam?”

“Sammy…”

“Not Sammy…Sam.”

I, I will be king And you, you will be queen Though nothing will drive them away We can be Heroes, just for one day We can be us, just for one day

I, I can remember (I remember) Standing, by the wall (by the wall) And the guns shot above our heads (Over our heads) And we kissed, As though nothing could fall (Nothing could fall)

And the shame was on the other side Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever Then we could be Heroes, Just for one day

“Last night there was a major accident on the highway. A big-rig blew a tire causing the truck to flip over. It smashed into several cars before landing on two. Blaine, Sam was in one of those cars…and, and Sebastian was in the other. They didn’t make it. I’m so sorry.”

"Sammy, the little boy…obviously not the dog, is Sam’s son, isn’t he?"

"Yes"

"But Sam…if I saved him, where is he? Why isn’t he with his son?”

“I can’t tell you what happened. That’s Blaine 2.0 territory. However, when you wake up, you can have some more of Bow’s memories. I can do that much."

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. This is your dream.”

*Next thing Blaine knew he was hugging the man he considered his father. In this Dream State he could actually feel Tony’s arms around him* “I miss you so much.”

“Of course, you do. I’m awesome.” *Tony tightened his hold* “I love you, Blaine Anderson.”

“I love you too, Tony Stark.”

“Good, because I want you to do something for me.”

“Of course, you do. What?”

“Go back to your music.”

“But…”

“What was the first thing you thought of when you remembered Sam? *Blaine tries to move away but Tony won’t let him* “You remembered the two of you singing Heroes. It was good…really good. Not hard rock enough to be my theme song, but I would’ve put it on the list.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m Dream Master and Gate Keeper to all your memories, Dumb Ass. Now, about you going back to music…”

“Tony…”

“If I didn’t burden you with hiding Brittany…”

“She wasn’t a burden.”

“Then hiding all my extra toys in the basement at Dalton…”

“That was a burden, a little one. But only when you came to Ohio and (air quotes) played science with my home. It would take days to get Saturday back to working correctly after you left.”

“I always thought if I didn’t uproot your life, you would’ve eventually found your way back to music. You were too good not to.”

“Tony…”

“Bow, just this one time, don’t overthink this and promise me you’ll try.”

*Sigh* “For you? I promise to try.”

Blaine felt movement next to him. It was enough to end his dream but not enough for him to move out of the comfort cocoon he was wrapped in. That was until he heard…

Come on, Big Guy. Time to go.

“Says who?” Blaine asked a startled Sebastian.

“Sammy shouldn’t be here.”

“And you shouldn’t have talked to your father about me without making sure you were alone.” He didn’t regret what he said, but maybe he didn’t have to say it like that.

“He overheard Dad and I…?” Sebastian didn’t need a verbal response. He’d seen that expression thousands of times. “Do you know how much he heard?”

“Enough to come to the conclusion my forgetting him meant the bad space monster was going to take him away again.” He motioned for not-his-Bas to go around to the other side of the bed and join them. Sebastian took the hint and laid down next to the sleeping boy, brushing his hair aside much like Carole had done with him earlier.

It finally dawned on him how much the other man loved this boy and had just been trying to protect him. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Sebastian asked, surprised by the apology.

“That I failed your test. That I’m not who you wanted me to be.”

If Sebastian was surprised before, he was now in full-on shock. “How do you know?”

“You didn’t hide it very well. That, and while I was sleeping, I came to a couple of realizations, like how you lost your husband.” He held up his left hand to show him rubbing the underside of his ring finger with his thumb. “I can’t stop doing this. It’s a muscle memory I have no control over. Susie said something about having a Daddy and a Papa, but this…” he held up his hand again “this is a habit developed over a long period of time.”

“B’s ring belonged to my grandfather. It was always a little big but with everything going on the past few years, getting it resized wasn’t happening. When we finally found someone to do it, B said no, the ring’s perfect the way it is. And you didn’t fail. We knew this would happen. I just hoped…”

Huh? We knew? “How? How the fuck…” Sebastian glared at him until he realized “Oh sh…cra…darn? Guess I need to learn to watch my language.”

“We have a curse jar. You don’t put money in because money doesn’t have any real value right now. The jar has pieces of paper with monthly jobs no one wants to do on them. B usually takes out 10 at the beginning of the month so he can space things out.”

He chuckled quietly, not wanting to wake up Sammy. Obviously, he and the other Blaine would have similarities since they were technically the same person. He never considered his swearing habit would be one of them. “He, your B, has or had…”

“A potty mouth? Yes, but it did get better after Susie’s first word was fuck.”

That was all it took for him to lose it. Whatever came out was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, the problem was it was loud. Sammy smiled waking to see the men he called Uncle on either side of him, until seconds later when sheer panic overtook the boy.

On the other side of the room, sparks had appeared out of nowhere. Fortunately, he remembered what this meant, but how to explain it to a traumatized child was a different story. “Sebastian, how did everyone Tha…the bad space monster took away come back?” he asked, hoping it was at least close to the version he knew. “The Sammy version.”

“Um…Avengers broke the space monster’s curse and everyone just reappeared. No one knows how.”

“What did the Avengers do next?”

“Uh…a big battle with the space monster. They think they’re going to lose when a bunch of people joined them…”

“Awesome! Sammy, I know people who were there when the Avengers fought the space monster. Everyone who joined them? They got there through a magic portal just like that one. Only heroes can go through them.” He tousled the less-scared little boy’s hair before getting out of bed and putting himself between Sebastian and Sammy, and whoever (or whatever) stepped out of the portal.

Not that he was going to stop a magical being or anything, but it felt like the right thing to do.

Any doubt was quashed when their visitor arrived. “Wong? What are you doing here? Wait, how did you get here? The Sorcerer Supreme is a master of time. Yes, I time traveled here but Sebastian and Sammy didn’t. Oh my God! Are we in an alternate universe?” He’s so excited his voice kept getting higher and faster. “I think I finally understand some that timey-whimey shit…stuff Tony, Bruce and Brittany yapped on and on about.”

“Brittany? You said you didn’t know my Mommy.”

He turned so fast he almost knocked himself over. “Brittany is your mommy?” For some reason what Sammy said both made perfect sense and blew his mind. Sadly, this had to wait. “Wong?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re not even close. I thought you were some sort of genius like Stark since he sent you to MIT and then kept all his Iron Man stuff in your basement.”

“You went to MIT?”

He motioned to Sebastian he’d answer the question later. Maybe he should get the others to leave. No, a little late for that. “Wong, just tell me.”

“When I first met you, your Temporal Aura was off, more like wrong, but I was a little busy. Do you know why?”

“Testing me?"

"Yes"

Considering the man could turn him into a frog, he determined it wasn't time for snark. Sammy didn't need to see that. "The first time I met you, you and Pepper brought Morgan to me before the battle at the Avengers Compound.”

“Ok, just checking, you never know with time travel. At Stark’s funeral I pointed your Aura out to Strange and he agreed with me. You were on the wrong timeline.”

“The what now?”

“The wrong timeline. People don’t stay on the wrong timeline. Those things get taken care of.”

“Taken care of?” Well, that didn’t sound good.

“Let’s just say there are more beings affecting time than those possessing an Infinity Time Stone. Lasting almost 30 years in the wrong timeline only to return to the correct one without assistance from any form of timekeeper doesn’t happen…until you. It’s fascinating.”

“Fantastic isn’t the word I would use.” This conversation was getting more confusing (and terrifying) by the minute. “So, what does all of this mean? And please no timey/whimey or magicity/smagickity explanations?”

“It means I need to have a discussion with Strange but I can’t find him. He’s off universe. It’s so frustrating.” Wong waved his arms and another portal began to open. “Maybe you can help. What’s the name of Stark’s other lost boy?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean Spider-Man?”

“I know that. What’s his real name? His identity?”

“I don’t know. He wanted it to remain secret, unlike his mentor.”

“Someone must know.”

“Pepper?”

“None of Team Iron Man. Maybe this has something to do with why I can’t find Strange. Do me a favor…no more time jumping until I get this figured out.”

“I won’t know how.” 

Once he was sure Wong was gone, he turned back around. Sammy was bouncing with excitement. Sebastian…have you ever heard the expression If looks could kill? Neither was a good thing. Like his other self, he should probably get a head start on the curse jar because…FUCK!!!!!

[thoughtcock]

self manifestations for 2023/24 (progress)

[X] rent an better actual apartment, by myself or with someone else: I am currently here now :) sitting by myself in the comfort of my living room, while listening to lofi music on youtube as background. And boy, what an amazing feeling it is. it is merely just over 400 sq ft, a small size by most standards. yet its just enough for me and the bf who comes over.

I used to feel like I don't do well in the ordinary, life had to always be happening or I have to be on some unconventional route (i mean it kinda is but still) to be happy or whatever. But lately, I really do appreciate the peace and the ordinaryness. I now romanticise the chill/hiding away to my safe space. I love doing my silly little home decorating and just feeling present at this apartment. my safe space.

I gradually became a much more neater and organised person. seriously, i started making my own bed more regularly and you could point a gun at me and i would find it so pointless to do it. its just going tog et messy again so who cares? but now.... i see why people do it.

i thought me being messy was just a personality trait of mine and i hoped people around me will accept it. but i dont know... i guess there's this new-found form of respect i have for my space now, and keeping it tidy just makes it so much more pleasant for me. the only issue with that is i spend significantly more time tidying, and my boyfriend still hasnt caught up to speed yet.

But still... I finally get ikea catalogues and how they are always selling this idea of a beautiful home enriching your life. because its true. and i get why people buy picture frames and decorative tissue boxes and carpets and all. to make a space much cozier, which in turn makes u happier and more at peace. And I get why people buy extra practical things like a water filter, storage space for your appliances, a speaker, a standing desk. because why wouldnt you? it boosts your quality of life in different ways.

Yes, its not cheap to rent, but damn I would rather pay with money than with my mental health. for seven years i've lived with the bare minimum. mostly stuck to buying necessary stuff for my home, or barely buying anything at all for fear it will eat up the little space i was allocated to. and now to have the space(!!) and options to buy something just for the aesthetics is suddenly new to me again. for 8 years i've been living in cramped dorms/subdivided rooms/flat share. i am so grateful and i cant wait to make more and get an even bigger space maybe (i still wish for a bigger kitchen, and an actual designated to hang clothes without taking over the living room space).

In the meantime maybe i can start thinking about owning a home. though i still dont feel ready, need to save more haha

[ ] get my first tattoo: still in the works. all the artists i like are either based far away, or i am still undecided and frankly procrastinating. slighly worrying about the fallout with the mother. also there is a bit of inertia to just fuck it and out trust in an artist for a tattoo that im not sure of yet.

[ ] adopt a cat: unlike getting a tattoo, i dont think i can just bite the bullet and bring an animal to my life full-time. since having a family dog, i realised how important it is to consider how I really have to be responsible for a pet. And making space for said pet in your life. my family dog came to us in a "yolo" way of sorts, and while he is amazingggggg, i know if it were up to me i'll do so much more to give him a better life. and so, i would like to carefully consider everything before fostering one. and also because my new apartment is so great as it is, how can an animal live in it well without destroying the space i worked so hard for?

[X] adapt well in new job: giving this an X because so far i've performed better than how i did in my first year. but there's a lot of self-pressure and probably managerial pressure to step up and do even more, learn even more etc. tbh sometimes it feels like my brain is swimming from all these new things i've learnt or am expected to learn. i dont want to disappoint people, but i am also trying to give myself the space/patience to improve and be better. after all im paid much better to live in this nice apartment.

[X] buy fancy decorative stuff for said new apartment (eg. plates, candles, artsy fartsy stuff)

[ ] be reading more: definitely falling back on reading... sometimes its hard to get the attention span to do so. i've been told i should get back on self-help books. so far i've read more autobiographies. there are some books i own that take me back to chaotic times (Eg. 2019) and i'm sure if i even want to touch them for fear of bringing up not so great memories and how this city is quietly turning to shits. well at least i have my nice place as it turns to shit... privilege much?

[ ] continue to choose myself: i feel like its a half-half on this...

[X] be okay with change: something i read recently is how because nothing last forever, its best to appreciate things are they are now before they are gone. the glass is already broken. impermanence makes things more beautiful.

[ ] have more reflective alone times: unfortunately not doing as much of that, but i hope that will change!!!! sometimes i live life on autopilot mode, and i could feel myself living in that mode for months since i've stopped going to therapy. autopilot mode isnt bad, but yeah i know i dont truly reflect on my feelings much if that is so. and i find my thoughts so muddled and messy at times. its like what the fuck do i want sometimes, why am i overthinking this and that, am i doing enough of this and that bla bla,,, but i dont know WHY im thinking like that. sometimes writing this in word vomit mode helps to rationalise and write out all the things in my head which is great... although i feel like a terrible writer because everything is so messy and word vomity

[X] solo travel (either a beach getaway or city gal holiday, or both): my first solo trip coming up soon! a beach getaway is something i always want to do. im not going to plan much or keep everything to a schedule, just see where this trip takes me. im hoping to just chill and be rejuvenated, and yes try to be more reflective

[ X] turn off my brain when work is over: a WIP but i would say i've gone heaps and bounds since leaving my last job. work stops at 6 and i try not to open my emails/messages, but i guess with more responsibilities sometimes i cant help it. but i can safely say i do have more time for other things without feeling like some manager will find me to settle a story or whatever. it feels nice to have no one bug u after work hours!!

[X] maintain close relationships with the people who matter: not sure whether to tick this since i've become a lot more introverted this year. i no longer do big parties or try to organise one anymore. in that sense i do feel more distant from people now, sometimes i dont even know who matters and who doesnt. but this time, i feel perfectly okay with it. i think its the new house effect, i just want to stay home all the time. maybe the person who matters most in my life is me, after all.

[X] restart seriously saving and investing again: getting paid more helps. though i do need to re-evaluate my investing choices. i jsut need to be careful about lifestyle inflation and balance things properly. i started budgeting again this months so hopefully i can stick to it.

[X] stay away from people with bad energy: its actually easier to do that when u have a significant other and u are okay to be alone. no longer interested in clubs or gettign fucked up, or getting on dating apps anymore.

-[X?] feel valued in a workplace/relationship: yes for work, thanks to great managers and great benefits. relationship, i would like to think my friends value me, and as for my boyfriend? i guess he does in his own ways, though i would like to feel more of it.

New goals:

learn diving

solo travel/travel to more unconventional places

romanticising life more

take a chill hobby like coloring

exercise at least 1x a week

[bigwishes]

Hey I am in dire need for some help!

I'm a 6'4 handsome jock, big beefy muscles, a deep baritone voice and got every guy on the team begging to suck my 8.5-incher.

I know this al sounds amazing and fuck yeah it is.. but the last few days I felt weak, not like I was sick or anything, but like my strength started leaving me. I heard a lot about your wishes where people drain their bullies or the jocks of their school. I'm an upstanding person, I have helped go up against bullying even from my teammates, I've helped my younger brother in the gym when he didn't know what he needed to do, even coach thinks I have everything he needs to become state champion this year.

So please save me from loosing all my hard worked size, I don't even know who is doing this to me.

Oh no you're losing muscle?!?!?! well we can't have that. The truth is mate I know exactly what is going on and who is doing it to you. A new student at the college gym always wanted to work out but his parent's never let him, worried it might stunt his growth. He desperately wanted to catch up and asked if I could put everyone in the gym's gains on him for the next week. Nobody noticed but you've got a keen eye and seem to notice what's going on so I tell you what I'll stop this guys wish, tell him to wish for something new and as a reward for being so perceptive I'll make you the new focus of the wish. Get you your gains back from the past few days and give you the gains of everyone who goes to the gym for the next week.

Day 1 was dope as fuck, your muscle felt pumped again, you were no longer tired after lifting and you felt incredibly solid after a workout. You were happy to be yourself again, working towards you goals. As much as you had prided yourself on hard work and being natural you were low key excited for a little magical boost, just a couple pounds of muscle from magic surely would still make you natural, after all the gains being sent your way are still gains worked for, just not gains worked for by you.

Day 2 was even better, whole fuck you were pumped all the time, you probably didn't even need to go to the gym but you wanted to, you loved the gym and didn't want to take the week off because you were getting free gains. After all it was like working double time getting swole, you were excited for the state championships in a few months and to go home and see your brother and show off your gains. The Christmas dinner keeps running in your head of him asking you how you got massive and you just saying diet and exercise. the thought of entering a bodybuilding comp crossed your mind, you were getting huge and its not like you could test positive for roids, and you'd never be tempted by them either.

Day 3 was different, you woke up at 12:01am on the dot and felt an insane pump, it wasn't slow and every lasting like how day 2 was this was fast, like a flood of blood throughout your whole body, like you were being pumped up like a balloon,

You struggled on your bed feeling more and more mass being added to your frame. The growth finally subsided and you passed out.

You struggled driving your car to the campas gym, the seat was uncomfortable and your thighs and swollen up so big you gym shorts felt like they were cutting off the circulation to your legs, maybe you should take the rest of the week off....or maybe ask for the growth to stop now....

Day 4 was a struggle, you had another growth surge in the middle of the night and it really set in just how much mass hundreds of people using the 24 hour gym daily can make. You would be fine to be like this, it'd be awesome and absolute easy win at state championships followed by sponsorships, you could drop out and be paid by supplement companies to simply pose with their products, but you couldn't get bigger than this, anymore size and you wouldn't even be able to get in your car anymore, no, you had to text the genie and ask for it to end early.

Day 5 was hell, you had a growth spurt in the middle of the gym changing room, bringing a whole new meaning to the words "Changing Room" not a single person in there noticed, like the magic was just making everyone thing you were always this big. Your coach had commented on how genetically gifted you were, apparently you had been made to do a random roid test several times and always come back clean, something you had no memory of. Going through old social media posts you saw you were much bigger in high school then you actually were, like the past was changing to accommodate for all this new found size.

Still after today you knew you didn't want anymore, even your best friend stood next to you as your posed your hulking frame in the mirror.

"bro, there is such a thing as too large, slim down for a few months or you'll be off the team for being too slow"

He was right, the new size was impacting your ability to play, one strong and fast you were now just strong, a brick wall no one could get by sure but what was the point it you couldn't chase a guy down or move your arms properly to catch the ball.

Day 6 was spent messaging the genie all day different combinations of "I wish to be smaller" or "please stop the growth now" any phrase you could think of to try to get the genie's attention to stop the growth. What your young mind thought would be cool t first turned into your biggest nightmare, you had outgrown your car and you couldn't even sell it for a new one as last time you got out of it you completely caved in the drivers side by simply shutting the door. You spent an hour walking to the gym, the only thing to clear your mind was lifting weights. During a rest your daily does of growth kicked in, your pecs and traps were swelling so close to your neck you could barely turn your head anymore.

Day 7, the final day of growth. You had become a fucking monster. Lost your place on the team from barely being able to move. You were staving all the time and spent most of your day now shovelling food down your throat as simply waling down the dorm room stairs caused you to burn a whole day's work of calories for any normal guy. You were anxiously awaiting today's growth and spent the whole day locked in your room. Everything around you was destroyed, unable to handle all the strength you had busted most things you touched and your furniture had all collapsed. Cheap college budget furniture could barely hold your weight how you were before all this but now it was just scrap wood and metal on the floor, you couldn't even bend down to pick it up. The whole day passed you buy and you saw the time 11:30pm...any moment now your final growth would happen and then you could figure out how to reverse it, or live with it. You tried to think positively, how awesome it would be to be an absolute monster, how much action you'd get. A deluded lie you told yourself, the truth was after what you did to your care you were terrified to go on a date or out for a hook up, every time you thought about it you could only think about accidently breaking the guys spine, but you'll finally get to figure all this out in just a few minutes, after tonight no more growth, just learning to live with the size. A message appear on your phone, from the genie, maybe he had finally seen your messages, maybe he'll shrink you back to how you were a few days ago, maybe you'd get punished for turning away the gift and turned into a twink....but being a twink would be better than this.

"hey bro, hope you are enjoying all the mass from the guys in the gym, today is gonna be a bit different. I explained what was going on to the original wish maker and he felt shitty and made a new wish, he wanted the nicest guy in the gym to triple in size and well I have decided you're nicest guy! you've been great carrying your team and just being a nice guy in the gym so I dunno how big you are now mate but I hope you always dreamed to be massive. If you've gotten too big from this tell me now and Ill stop the wish but after 11:59pm thats it, it goes through and nothing I can do about it"

You laughed loudly, this was your chance, to get the body from a few days ago, be a massive goliath but not be too big. Thank god. 11:45, still heaps of time. You excitedly went to message back but your phone slipped out you massive hands. Instinctively you went to catch it before it landed on the floor *CRUNCH...you opened your hand to see bits of crushed aluminium and glass slip out your fingers and on to the floor. You stopped, in shock you simply got off your bed and walked to the bathroom mirror. No one had gotten shell shock from breaking their phone before but you just stood in your bathroom, barely big enough for you to fit in and stared at yourself in the mirror. You thought you had become a monster, no, you were a freak, a massive freak of nature but in just a few more minutes, then, then you'd truly become a monster and there was no way for you to stop it now.

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

Morphs in the story done by the incredibly Max Morphs check out their blog and show them some love.

Here:https://www.tumblr.com/maxmorphs

[carbonfiction]

A Jealous!bodyguard!Bucky thought

Tbh this is low-key filth, low-key something off the top of my head. Enjoy!💕

Minors do not interact you will be blocked

Okay so imagine you both dancing around some sort of thick sexual tension that You've both had ever since he had started working for your parents. He’s this hefty, 6ft somthing, statue brought to life, wearing those black shirts that have to be holding on for dear life against his frame.

He’s paid to be with you practically 24/7, to keep you safe, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care for your life more than a paid personal bodyguard should. You both know it’s off limits, that neither of you should harbour the thoughts you have, but somehow that makes it all the more fun. Especially when You’ve got this utterly sinful look in your eye, and he’s so obviously finding it hard to restrain himself.

Even when your staying at your parents vacation home, choosing some time in the sun over what feel like endless mountains of paperwork. But god you've just been a brat since the moment you touched down on the island, choosing to push his buttons, to wear the skimpiest bikinis, all to see just how far you could go before ultimately, he gives in.

And then you decided that there was nothing more you needed than cocktails, and not those made by any staff in the house. Claiming you just needed to get out, to go out for a few drinks at a bar like any normal person does on vacation. Bucky begrudgingly agrees but let's be honest he would need a drink or 5 to deal with you.

Until you get a little too flirty with the bartender. Purposely getting far to touchy and way to slutty. So Bucky doesn’t hesitate, grabbing your bicep and practically dragging you over to an empty bathroom, as his breath puffs out agitated grunts of air. He’s mad, but god does it send a throb down to your clit. And he finally snaps. Lips snarling forward and meeting yours, body pinned to the locked door by his huge frame.

One moment your your being dragged away and then the next your dress is flipped up over your hips, Bucky a cock splitting you into two.

And god the way he would mock when you got too loud and whiny? "Ah ah, you got y'self into this sweetheart, shouldn'ta been such a brat runnin that filthy little mouth and showing off your slutty little body, but it's alright, y'gonna let me fuck it all outta ya hm? Gonna let me fuck ya stupid honey? Calm ya down?

His thrusts only slow briefly to make a point as he speaks again, tightening a hand around your throat as the other drifts down and rubs at your clit. "Yeah, yeah you are. So desperate to get fucked by a big. fuckin. dick. Such a dirty girl all f'me hm?" then the groan he would let out into your ear when you only babble out a sob, hips rutting back towards him, pussy clenching like a vice around his cock in response??

In conclusion.. I wish to be railed by a jealous, mildly possessive Bucky Barnes.

[xoxo-teddybear]

What Have I Done? - Bakugou Katsuki- pt.2

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of suicidal thoughts, fluff, insane behavior, nsfw, noncon! Dubcon!, murder, stalking, abusive behavior, yandere!Bakugou, cursing, blood, lowkey kinda slow burn (meaning the beginning is a little boring BUT IT GETS GOOD I SWEAR😭)

Ep. Warnings: Angst, hitting, cursing, stalking, kidnapping, murder

Summary: It’s been awhile since you’ve left him. Two months actually but it was two months too long. Katsuki was slowly going insane and I guess you could say he officially has because he’s officially snapped. You become his main target, his number one priority, his entire being even though you’re trying to leave him. But Katsuki won’t let you. You’re his..and in the words of Bakugou Katsuki..you always will be.

A/N: ....I made it a yandere story y’all. OH SHI-

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Chapter 1

Twitch, twitch, twitch. That’s all Katsuki’s body been doing. Either his eyes or his fingers, his body is uncomfortably moving. Shit doesn’t feel right for him. And he knows exactly why. You left him.

The first week was horrible. All Katsuki did was cry. He even kept his destroyed home in shambles because he couldn’t find the motivation to do anything. If it wasn’t for Kirishima, Katsuki would have starved himself to death. The second week was just as bad. Nothing but a crying baby being taken care of by his best friend.

The third week is when Katsuki become a drunkard. He made Kirishima and the boys of the Bakusquad constantly take him out whenever. As long as the place served alcohol, he would go. He would go and drink himself to sleep. While he was intoxicated he would cry about how he misses you and how he was a terrible husband. He always said you deserved better but he was too in love with you to let you go. The 4th week was pretty much the same.

After a whole month without you, Katsuki threw himself into depression. For the entirety of the second month, he locked himself within the walls of his home. Thankfully, it was now considered a home environment once again after his dear friends cleaned the place up for him. Katsuki stayed inside all day, drank his soul away every night, and sobbed constantly. Constantly regretting how he neglected you, how he mistreated you, and how he hurt you. He doesn’t even know how he even brought himself to do that. Even though he’s been alone for almost 2 months, he still had hope that you would come back. That things would go back to normal and he would be a better husband to you, just like he promised.

Katsuki felt himself going mad and slipping away, but what pulled the trigger was what Kirishima brought to him on the 6th week.

—

Flashback

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”

Katsuki looked down at the papers in his hands. Kirishima had walked in with a nervous and sad look on his face when he gave Katsuki the papers you had the red head deliver. “Sorry man...”

Katsuki shook as he stared at the divorce papers with wide eyes. He saw you already signed it and all the paper needed was his signature. His face grew dark as something in his mind snapped. Katsuki turned to his friend and instructed him to get out of his home.

“What? Man are you alright?” Kirishima said. He walked to his best friend and when he reached a hand out for him, Katsuki pulled on his arm and pushed him out the door. He slammed it shut and locked it as he looked at the papers.

A scary smile grew on the man’s face. His eyes grew crazy as he laughed maniacally. Hysterically. As if what he held was the most hilarious thing in the world. His palms began to spark as he used his quirk to destroyed the papers. The quick blast made his hair floof around a bit and when it was over, a pile of ashes lay at his feet.

“She-....she thinks she can leave me?” Bakugou began to walk to the framed picture on the coffee table. He picked up the picture of you both on your last anniversary and ran his finger over the image of you. “Poor Princess....you can’t leave me. You need me. Just as much as I need you. I mean..hehe...look at what I mess I’ve been. I can only assume you must be worse. But it’s okay, love...I’ll find you soon enough..and I’ll help you feel better,” he walked to his bedroom and layed down on the soft mattress as he held the frame close to his chest as he stared sinisterly at the ceiling, “and we’ll never be apart again.”

—

The 7th week was when it began. Katsuki took some time off of work. He was gonna be too busy for hero work. He had something much more important to do. He had to bring you home.

Katsuki spent the 7th week looking for information on you. He was up 24/7 reading all he can, talking to as many people as he can, and doing all the digging he could until he found you. Unfortunately for him but luckily for you, he found nothing. It pissed him off. How could you have completely erased your existence? Did you just go into hiding or was he not searching hard enough.

This time, the luck switched. Katsuki was just walking to the store when he looked to the far side and saw you in a cab. He had to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t mistaken but after a good glance and taking a picture for confirmation, he knew it was you. His body almost betrayed him as he almost went in to run after you but luckily his brain stopped him. He had to think. Katsuki hid in an alleyway nearby as he watched you from the side. When the driver continued down the road, that’s when he began to follow you. He used his hero training and quirk to keep up with the car. He followed you for miles until the cab finally stopped at some hotel. He watched you walk in and decided this was far enough.

He knew where you were now. He could wait a little longer before snatching you up. If he did it now in broad daylight, chaos would break out. He had to wait for the perfect moment to get you back. He was okay with waiting. He knew where you’ve been staying, how to get there, and knew what time you got back from wherever that cab picked you up. And then it hit him. The cab.

Katsuki went back to look at the picture he took of you in the cab and checked the license plate. With this information, he went home to find where the vehicle was.

Katsuki busted the door open to his home and ran straight to his in-home office. He went to log onto his work laptop that he used for hero work. The laptop contained the tools and websites that would allow him to find the cab. He finally reached the site he was looking for and went back to the picture. There, he typed in the license plate number.

“よ 57-342” he whispered aloud. Finally, he located the vehicle and went to find it. Katsuki followed the location until he found the house where the driver stayed. He waited in hiding, hoping someone would come out and hoped that the someone would be the driver. He waited and waited until finally, after almost 2 hours of waiting, a man came out. Katsuki quickly pulled up the picture and made sure it was the same person who was driving you, and to his luck, it was.

He quickly ran to the driver before he could get into the cab and pulled him into a dark corner. He slammed the man up against the wall and pulled up a picture of you. “Listen! You dropped this girl off at a hotel, I need to know where you picked her up! Tell me! Now!”

“W-whoa!” The driver exclaimed as he took notice of Katsuki’s identity. “Y-you’re Dynamight!”

Katsuki sucked his teeth at the fact that this guy knew who he was but then again, he wasn’t surprised. He was the number 2 hero after all. “Yeah! I am! Now tell me where you picked up my wife you dog-faced loser!” He screamed.

“Y-you’re wife??” The man looked at the picture and recognized you and the name you gave him. “Oh! M-Miss Y/N! Yes! Uh-..uh- I- she- I- ..I picked her up from a gym!” The man exclaimed.

“What gym?! Tell me!!!” Bakugou shouted at the man.

“I-I’m sorry! I don’t know if I can! She- she said she got divorced so how can I trust you’re her husband?!” The man shouted in fear.

“Are you calling me a liar?! I’m a fucking pro-hero! Why would I pull some bullshit like that! Tell me where my wife was! What?! Gym?!” Bakugou screamed once more. In fear, the man gave Katsuki the information he needed.

“Hosu Gym!” The man shook and Bakugou stared for a minute to scare the poor guy before dropping him to the ground. As he walked away, the man spoke up once more. “D-Dynamight, sir. I-If miss Y/N doesn’t want to see you..and you’re forcing information out of people..I’ll have to tell the authorities..sir.”

“You’re not gonna do a damn thing. You hear me?!” The pro screamed. Bakugou side eyed the man as he watched the driver get up from the ground.

“Sir. From the small conversation we had in the car, Miss Y/N said she was divorced-“

“We aren’t divorced!!” Bakugou said as he made a random explosion to intimidate the man. “We are still together, and she is still my wife, and none of this is any of your business!” Bakugou began to walk away but heard the driver grumble something under his breath that triggered something in his brain.

“I can see why she left a crazed man like you...” the driver mumbled. Katsuki quickly snapped his body to face the man and jumped on him. His burning hand found it’s way around the man’s neck and began to squeeze.

“The hell did you say?! You’re gonna wish you never said that you fucking fool, cuz now those are gonna be your last words!” Bakugou said before he activated an explosion and killed the man. Katsuki took deep breaths before realizing what he did and for some reason, he felt no remorse. And he knows why.

“That idiot should’ve known better than to talk about me and Y/N like that...s’his own fault he died.” Bakugou said before walking away from the gruesome scene. He acted like nothing happened as he made his way to Hosu Gym. He just needed to know what time your got there and when. Then, he could finally go home before continuing his plan for the next day.

—

The blonde decided to wait for some time before he went into the building. It was getting dark and so the gym would be closing soon. He waited and waited until finally, the place was empty. Empty except for the man who worked at the front desk.

Katsuki slipped in right before closing and hid himself in the locker room. He waited 10 minutes before going out and finding the one employee he saw. After exploring the area, Katsuki found the man sitting on a bench. He snuck up behind him, and pounced. He covered the man’s mouth as he tugged him into the back room. Once inside, The blonde threw the man in and locked the door to prevent anyone getting in or out.

“W-What is going on? D-Dynamight, what is happening?” The employee asked in fear. He assumed a threat was going on or some trouble was taking place outside of the gym. He had no idea the trouble was standing right in front of him.

“I need you to tell me when this lady came in.” Bakugou said and pulled up a picture of you. The man looked at the picture and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize-“

“YOU WILL! This woman came in here today and I need to know what time! TELL ME!” Bakugou screamed as he lit sparks in his palm. The man shook in fear at the hero’s booming voice and began to look harder. After a minute, he finally spoke.

“I- I remember. She came in hours ago! Sometime around 12 to 2!” The man said in hopes the yelling would stop. It didn’t.

“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?! There’s a huge space in between! I need to know exactly what time she came in! Don’t you morons have a sign in?!” Bakugou screamed.

“We do! We do sir!” The man nodded his head in fear. Bakugou huffed before walking over to him and dragging him by his collar to seat him on the chair in front of the computer.

“Then get into your data base and FIND MY WIFE!” The blonde screamed. The worker nodded frantically before getting right into it. Bakugou watched his every move and the computer. He kept a sparkling hand right next to the man’s head to keep him intimidated as he worked. Eventually, Bakugou saw your profile picture on the screen when the man scrolled down. “Stop. Her. Check what time she came in.”

The man read the drafts and spoke. “1:30 p.m.”

Bakugou nodded before walking to the door and unlocking it. He turned to the trembling man and gave a quick warning with a sinister smile. “If I ever find out that you told anybody, even your own damn friends or family, about what happened tonight, I won’t hesitate to come back and kill you. Am I clear?”

The man gave a quick and jittery “y-yes sir!” As he watched the pro-hero leave the room. Once Bakugou was gone, the man let out a breath of relief and allowed the few tears he was holding back to fall. Bakugou Katsuki definitely struck fear into those of the lives he met.

With this simple information, Bakugou smirked as he walked out the gym doors. He knows where you live, what gym you go to, what day you go, and what time you arrive. You were always a very punctual person. You had a schedule and you followed it through and through. He completely trusted the fact that when he came back here next week, he would be sure to see you. All he had to do now was wait 7 days.

—

7 days have passed and Katsuki was waiting for your presence in the gym. After finding out you arrived at 1:30, he showed up almost an hour earlier at 12 just in case. He waited and waited for you to show. He was almost out of patience, but after seeing that it was only 1:00, he settled the slightest bit. It wasn’t until he took notice of a familiar figure at the desk.

The man Katsuki had threaten nights ago was shivering and shaking in his boots as he greeted people at the door. He was aware that the pro hero was in the building and after the incident of what went down that night, he was definitely scared for his life. Bakugou began to walk to the man and said man could feel a scary aura coming around. When he turned, he was greeted with the sight of a smirking Katsuki.

“Hey friend,” Bakugou said with his hands in his pockets.

The man jumped at the sound of his voice and his scary presence made his eyes teary. “H-Hello Dynamight.”

“Thought I’d just come by to warn you again. When Y/N walks through those doors, don’t you fucking dare try telling her about me or my presence here. Got that.....” Katsuki said looking down at the man’s name tag. “Hiro Itadori? ‘Cuz if you do, your body goes boom. Understand?”

“Y-Yes Sir!” Hiro said as he looked to the ground with wide eyes as he felt himself break into a cold sweat. Bakugou patted the man’s back, causing him to flinch but when the hero walked away right after, Hiro calmed down. Unfortunately, that only lasted for about a second before you walked in.

“Hello Hiro!” You joyfully said. Your voice reached the ears of your ex-husband. Or more so, your “supposed to be” ex-husband. His ears perked up and he smirked as he hid behind a corner wall, taking the view of you in.

“Y/N.” He whispered to himself. He smiled and a blush bloomed on his porcelain skin as he admired you from afar. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. If anything, your looks seemed to have only gotten better. He watched as the man nervously greeted you and allowed you to go through with your workout. Katsuki smirked as he knew the man gave no hint at him being there, and so he would be able to watch you in peace.

Katsuki wasn’t there to keep tabs on your workout and what exercises you did. He was there just to watch you. Of course, while doing so, he admired you, but he was there to gain selfish intel. He watched you from start to end. Once you finished he followed you to your next location. It was still early and so it was safe to assume you weren’t heading to bed yet. He followed you back to your hotel and waited in another area until you walked out again. Sure enough, you did.

For the rest of the day, Bakugou followed and stalked your every move. He watched where you work, where you spent your free time, he followed you to the new cafe you seemed to enjoy, and then he followed you back to your hotel. Instead of waiting in another area and watching from afar, Bakugou climbed the side of the building and watched you from your hotel balcony through the glass door. He payed attention to your every move and noted what time you went to bed. Satisfied with the day’s revelations, he went back to his own home.

Knowing this information, Katsuki was able to sleep a little more peacefully. For the next few weeks, Katsuki followed this procedure. He became a full time stalker, even going so far as to call out of work for some time to put his full attention in you. He watched you like a hawk. He took note of everywhere you went, where you ate, who you spoke to, and what you did. All of it became engraved into his brain.

Now, Katsuki stood at your balcony for the umpteenth time as he stared at your sleeping form. It was deep into the night and with the moonlight on his back, he found enough courage and craze to open the door. He walked in quietly and shut the door, blocking the chilly air from seeping in to awaken your unconscious state. He approached your bed and crouched down to meet your face.

“Still as perfect as ever,” he whispered as he removed a few strands of hair out of your face. His touch didn’t seem to startle you and Katsuki took it as your body naturally indulging in his familiar touch. He blushed at the feeling of your oh so soft skin as his fingertips grazed your pillowy cheeks. His hand finally cupped the side of your face as his thumb drew circles along your skin. Your head unconsciously nuzzled into his warmth like it used to and Katsuki couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t worry Teddy Bear...I’ll bring you home soon.”

With that, Katsuki leaned down and softly placed a kiss on your lips. This was the lightest kiss he ever bestowed upon you. The pressure and weight was similar to a feather and the blonde struggled to restrain himself once he came in contact. He craved more but his mind knew better. Reluctantly, he pulled away and removed his hand from your face. He walked away, back to the balcony to take his leave but not before turning to look back at you. “Real soon.”

—

You woke up to a sense of familiarity in your room. Although you were alone, you could’ve sworn there was this chilling presence. It was faint but it was there. Taking in a breath and looking around at your surroundings, you reluctantly got out of bed and got ready for the day.

You did the usual. Got ready, got dressed, had breakfast, and went about your day. You went to the market to picked up a few things and ended up staying much longer than you liked. You walked in during daylight and came out when the sun was setting. You sighed in disappointment.

“Guess I can skip the gym this one time. I might as well get back home, read a book or two..” you went on talking to yourself about your schedule. You walked with the groceries in hand as you enjoyed the scenery on your way back, however, even with the shining sun creating it’s golden hour with a beautiful purple sky, you couldn’t help but feel wary of the stillness in the wind.

—

‘Where the fuck is she?!’ Bakugou thought to himself. He waited at the gym all damn day. He waited and waited to see your beautiful face but you never showed. If he had known that you would’ve skipped out on the gym today he wouldn’t have came here and wasted his time. Today was supposed to be the day. The day you came home.

Shaking off his negative thoughts, Bakugou continued with his backup plan. Although it would hurt his soul to bring harm to his precious princess, he reminded himself that he was doing this for her. He’s been so broken for the past months, he could only imagine how destroyed you must be. Hurting you was his way of helping you.

And so, Bakugou made his way to your hotel, where he found himself standing infront of your glass door at your balcony. To his dismay, you weren’t there. He released a huff before climbing down and once again, began to wait. He waited and waited in hiding, constantly on the lookout for you. It’s hard to find you in the city when you don’t follow your daily schedule, but knowing where you currently resided to get your rest made his job much easier.

Finally, after some time, he heard the familiar and comforting sound of your humming voice as you sang a little song to yourself. Bakugou took the sight of you in and blushed at your beauty from afar. He allowed himself to soak in the sound of your pretty voice before making his move. “Sorry Princess.”

—

You finally made it to the hotel. After your long stroll, you couldn’t wait to get some rest. Except, the closer you got, the more tense you became. You could feel the suspenseful aura in the air and your pace soon slowed down. Eventually, you came to a stop as your nerves got the best of you.

“Hello?” You said in the wind. You looked around and saw nothing but the pitch black night illuminated by the street lights and stars.

“Is someone there?” You asked again, turning your head another direction. Nothing but leaves in the wind. You released a sigh and continued your walk but became startled due to the sound of squirrels fighting in the trees.

“Ah!” You screamed and dropped your bag. After taking notice of the two animals going at it, you chuckled to yourself and turned to pick up your bag, unfortunately being startled once again at the sight of shoes in front of you. “AH!”

You jumped back in fear and took a fighting stance before you settled and relax at the sight of your supposed ex-husband. “Bakugou..it’s just you.”

“Mm, nope.” Bakugou said as he bent down to pick up your bag and hand it to you. “It’s Katsuki.”

His words sent your eyes rolling as you took your bag back with a hesistant hand. Something seemed..off.

“Not anymore. Thanks for the help. Bye.” You attempted to walk on to your hotel entrance but his arm stopped you.

“What? That’s it? Thanks? Bye?” Bakugou asked while gently pushing your body back in front of him. “We should talk, Y/N.”

“There’s nothing to talk abou-“

“There is.” Bakugou said with a firm voice, grabbing your full attention. Seeing your doe eyes look at him with caution caused him to settle. Bakugou sighed through his nose and allowed his hands to rest on your waist. “I miss you, Y/N. I want you to come back home.”

You shook your head at the idea and scrunched your eyes as you tried to step out of his hold. “Bakugou..”

“Hear me out, okay? It won’t be like last time, Teddy Bear-“

“You don’t know that-“

“I do. Because I’m going to try harder for you and I’m going to hold onto you and I’m not gonna ruin us for a second time. I still love you Y/N. I always have and I always will.” Bakugou sweetly said. You looked at him with the same eyes of caution before you placed your hands over his, giving him a sign of hope.

“I’m sorry, Bakugou,” you said, pulling his hands off of your waist. “I sent divorce papers. I don’t want to be with you anymore. I don’t love you anymore.”

“You don’t mean that.” Bakugou said with full confidence. Although you pulled his hands away from your waist, you still allowed him to keep a hold on your own hands.

“...I should.” You said looking down. With each word of denial, Bakugou took a step closer, invading your personal space. “You should get going-“

“No, Y/N-“

“Bakugou-“

“Baby. I know you still want me. I know you still love me and I know you’re excited that I’m back. I love you...and you love me. So just admit it.” He said, inches away from your face. You stared in his eyes with a look of longing...and a hint of love. He was right. You did still love him. But after the neglect and harm he’s brought you, you didn’t know if you did want to go back. You didn’t know.

Sensing your hesistation, Bakugou slowly moved in to close the gap between you two. His hands let go off yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His face inched closer to yours and when you didn’t stop him, he continued. Finally, he gently placed his lips upon your own and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel something again. His kisses always brought a comforting feeling of butterflies in your stomach and after a second of feeling his warm lips, you kissed him back. Your hands found way around his neck as you pulled him in deeper and you could feel Bakugou smile into the kiss. It was hot and passionate. You were out in the open but for a moment it felt like no one else in the world existed. You would’ve gotten lost in the kiss had it not been for you remembering the situation you were in with the man.

Reluctantly, you gently pushed Bakugou off of you, but he still managed to press his forehead to your own. “Katsuki...you should go home.”

“Not without you.” He softly said. You shook your head as you completely pushed him off of you and gathered your things.

“Please...just go.” You said and began to walk away but Bakugou held onto your arm to stop you from moving any further.

“I’m not leaving without you, Y/N. Come home.” He stated.

“Bakugou! Just leave!” You shouted as you turned to him. When you faced the blonde man, you were shocked to see a crazed smile decorating his face.

“Too bad. I’m not asking Y/N. I’m telling. You’re coming home with me. Tonight.” He said and you scoffed at him with slight fear.

“You’re crazy!” You said and tried to shake his hold off of you, but of course failed.

“About you? Yes.” He said as he pulled you in closer. You squirmed against his hold until he pressed you in his chest and kept you in his grasp. You continued to fight against him but he grabbed your face with one hand to force you to stop and look at him.

“Let me go!”

“Listen! You either come home with me the easy way..or my way.” He warned. You looked at him with fear laced all around your face as you watched his insane side surface. You began to squirm again and fight once more.

“I’m not going!” You spat. Bakugou just released a simple laugh before caressing the side of your face.

“Yes. You are.” With that, the gentle hand on the side of your face formed into a first as he swung and knocked you out. You dropped unconscious in his hold and Bakugou was quick to carry you princess style and walk away, abandoning your groceries on the sidewalk.

“Shoulda listened. Cant believe you forced me to hurt you like that, baby.” Bakugou spoke to your unconscious state as he walked back home through dead city streets. “Don’t worry though, I’ll take care of you once we make it back. And then, we’ll never be apart again. I promise.”

—

You awoke to chains being locked on your wrist that were tied against a headboard. You layed on a large mattress in a dark room with a dim light. As you looked around, you recognized the familiar place. The place you used to make love for hours with your ex-husband. The place where movie dates and cuddle sessions were a must. The place you locked yourself in before leaving your last relationship. Katsuki’s bedroom.

You tried to jump out of bed but the restraints pulled you back down. You tried to scream and only muffled sounds could be heard. Katsuki taped your mouth shut. You tried using your quirk but it didn’t work. You looked to your restraints and saw the cuffs he used to hold you were quirk restraining cuffs. With nothing else to do, you tossed and turned in the bed as you allowed the muffled sounds to be as loud as they could. Eventually, the ruckus you were making brought the attention of your captor. Katsuki Bakugou.

Hearing all the noise, Bakugou busted opened the door to be met with your frustrated and teary eyes. You glared at him as he smirked at your locked up state. He took the opportunity to walk up to you and caress your face.

“I’m so sorry I had to hit you baby,” he said leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. “But you left me with no choice. All you had to do was come home on your own free will and I wouldn’t have had to do all that.”

You began to tremble with anger and fear as you stared up at the man. Your teary eyes challenged his insane rubies as he sat on the side of the bed.

“How does it feel to be back? Hm?” He asked, ripping off the tape. You groaned at the pain and grew sick as you saw Bakugou pervertedly lick his lips at the sound. You leaned back and huffed with heavy breath before answering him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Let me go!” You screamed. He only looked at you in confusion as another sinister smile took place on his lips.

“Why would I do that, Teddy Bear?” He asked, allowing his thumb to create sweet and soft circles on your cheek.

“I don’t want you anymore Katsuki! I don’t want to be with you!” Bakugou merely raised a brow at your words and continued to listen. “You burned me-“

*SMACK*

You looked at the man in front of you with fear and shock written on your face. Your cheek stung as your face now turned to the side but Bakugou quickly changed that by taking you by your chin to make you face him and wrapped a hand around your neck, chocking you. You gasped for air as Bakugou’s smirk became replaced with a frown and his brows became pointed.

“How dare you?! You’re asking what’s wrong with me but what the hell is wrong with you?! You left me, for months, Y/N. I was heartbroken. I was basically dead with you gone. I did you a fucking favor bringing you back. If I was so fucked, I can only imagine how horrible you must’ve been feeling. You’re lucky I came and save you. Saved us. And now, we can be happy again.” He explained.

“K-...Katsuki-..p-please!” You forced out, trying to beg for air.

“SHUT UP! I saved you, Y/N. So don’t even try to mention the little accident that happened so long ago, baby. Now you can forgive me. And don’t worry..I’m ready to listen to all the apologies you surely have for me...even if I have to choke them out of you.” He seethed with his hand tightening. Your eyes began to pop as the blood flow began to fill your face. Your eyes turned red as you struggled for air.

“I-...I-I’m..K-Katsuki! ...I’m sorry!” You shouted as best as you could. Luckily for you, the second you did, Bakugou’s hand lost its grip and simply rested on your neck. You choked and coughed as you relished in the sweet taste of oxygen. He smiled and leaned down to give your lips a sweet peck to shut you up and tapped your cheek before he walked to the door. Before leaving, he turned around to look at you and give you your official welcome back.

“I’m glad you’re home, baby. Can’t believe you really tried leaving. You’re mine, Y/N. And you always will be....don’t forget it.”

He slammed the door shut, walking away from the room with a smile. And you?

You cried.

A/N: Back by popular demand, we have part 2 to “What Have I Done.” How was it? In my opinion the beginning SUCKED! But I promise it’ll get better! The story will focus on Y/N and Bakugou’s new lives now so stay tuned and I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Tag list: @captainchrisstan @jazzylove @bakugous-trauma @konohahoee @whatdidshesayyy @chibiiichann @lover-of-helios @unicornlover25 @tamakisropebunny @iliketobullydeku @peacchfuz @fairybnha3 @ebiharachan @levimeko @5sos-wdw @naluciosa @anime-weeb-bnha @bakucumsackslut @asteria-obey-me

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Prompt idea: Geralt gets a contract for a monster that has been sighted nearby. When he tracks it down, he is surprised to find mothman!Jaskier who (much like actual mothman) has an ass that won’t quit.

?

I just want you to know that Mothskier now lives in my head rent free 24/7. I love him. I would die for him. This is my new favorite emotional support au.

2k-ish words - please feel free to shove comments through the bars of my enclosure, I would really like that

art by the ever-wonderful @mawbwehownets, whose drawing of Mothskier made me legit cry.

tw: mild injury, brief blood mention, strangers to lovers

---

“So what you’re saying,” Geralt raises an eyebrow slowly, curious, “Is that you need me to catch a monster that’s half man and half moth?”

“Yup.”

“Alright,” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. The frustrated Witcher takes a slow breath to calm and center himself, before he ends up botching the entire contract-writing process. Humans tend to grow attached to the strangest monsters sometimes, and apparently this mysterious local being was no different. “Let me get this totally straight, so there are no mistakes or misunderstandings. You want me to capture this man-moth and get it out of your woods, but you don’t want me to kill it?”

“He’s called the Mothman, and he’s pretty damn stubborn about sticking around,” the aging farmer corrects Geralt with a little frown. Then his expression shifts and he smiles in a way that seems almost apologetic. “We were hoping you could find a way to relocate him without hurting or killing him, Master Witcher.”

“That’s completely possible, if he isn’t attached to this specific patch trees by any magical or biological means. You said his natural habitat is just… the forest?”

“As long as there's an abundance of pine around he seems pretty happy. Before he came to live with us, Mothman lived in a heavily forested area up the coast; or at least that’s what the historical records and local mythology seem to indicate.”

“That’s actually pretty helpful information to have on hand, I’m impressed,” Geralt nods. “Alright, Mr. Stevens. I promise to relocate the poor thing without killing or maiming him, and I’ll be sure to take him somewhere far enough away that your crops won’t be in danger. Thanks for calling me first instead of just going straight to an extermination service.”

“Honestly, Master Witcher,” the farmer sighs and readjusts his dirty baseball hat, “If it weren’t for the mischief he’s been getting into lately, we would have let him stick around until spring. I hate to admit it to a man as strong and stern-faced as yourself, but the poor creature is almost… adorable at times.”

“Well that’s a first,” Geralt chuckles, honestly amused by the situation he’s found himself in. “A monster being referred to as ‘adorable’ rather than ‘terrifying’. I’ve never heard such a thing in my many years of life.”

“Then you’d better prepare yourself, Sir Geralt. He’s got a pair of big blue puppy-dog eyes that’ll knock you on your ass if you aren’t careful. And that’s coming from a man who raised three daughters with dimples.”

“Hmm. Fuck.”

---

Geralt knows enough about moths to come up with a plan he thinks will work.

Before he heads into the woods to find and capture the poor wandering creature, the Witcher takes a detour through the lighting section of the nearest Lowe’s.

---

Unfortunately for Geralt, the farmer was right about the power of Mothman’s puppy dog eyes, which are big and blue and begin to water as soon as the Witcher’s net knocks him to the ground. The creature lies in a whimpering tangle of limbs beneath the heavy, magically enhanced restraints. Geralt takes an opportunity to look at what the locals called "a cryptid".

Mothman has a long, lithe body that's covered in a light layer of grey-brown fur, but his hair resembles that of a human’s, falling over those enormous blue eyes in a lovely chestnut fringe. When Mothman sees the swords on Geralt’s back he cries out in panicked recognition and tries to pull his arms up far enough to shield his face. The lamp Geralt used to lure him into the clearing is still bathing him in a pool of yellow light; it’s almost pretty for a monster, Geralt notes.

As the Witcher takes a step forward, the cryptid squeaks and buries his face against his own shoulder. His entire frame is trembling.

“Hey there, shhhhh,” the Witcher murmurs quietly. He drops into a squat and holds both hands up to show Mothman that they’re weapon free. Tears are now falling freely down the creature’s surprisingly human face; whoever or whatever this is, they are likely some kind of Fae. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to get you back through the veil.”

“Liar,” Mothman huffs. His voice has a surprisingly musical quality to it and Geralt is now sure of his Fae parentage (or grand-parentage).

“I promise I’m not lying,” Geralt reassures him, slowly crawling forward. When he reaches for the nearest corner of the net, he feels all of Mothman’s muscles go tense. “I’m going to lift this up and I am going to restrain you, but I swear that I’m not going to kill you. I wish to cause as little distress as possible. Is that alright, Mothman?”

The creature hisses and yanks his foot back away from where Geralt’s hand had nearly touched it. “Jaskier.”

“Hmm?” Geralt glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“My name is Jaskier,” the Fae repeats, glaring up from between the sections of woven rope that make up the heavy net. “Not Mothman.”

“My apologies, Jaskier,” Geralt bows his head. He words his introduction carefully, in case this thing can manipulate his name like others of his kind: “You may refer to me as Geralt.”

“That’s your real name,” Jaskier states. The Witcher’s head snaps up.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sticks his tongue out as he mimics the sound Geralt made earlier. “Not telli-AH! Stop! Oh go- gods, stop! Please!”

Geralt drops the short section of rope he’s trying untangle from around Jaskier’s ankle and snaps his eyes upwards, already searching for damage. “What’s wrong!?”

“My wing!” Jaskier bawls. His scent spikes out through the clearing, sharp with panic and pain. The creature’s chest begins to shake more violently than before, his shoulders shuddering with the rising force of his sobs, “It’s t-t-torn! Oh gods, my wing! Sir Witcher, p-please!”

Geralt freezes, his gaze settling on the torn section of Jaskier’s large, furry wing. It’s a nasty wound near one of the joints, a faint trickle of barely-luminescent blood has already dried around the edges. Jaskier tries to flutter it a little and screams in agony when the muscles shift too suddenly, shrilly enough that Geralt needs to cover his hypersensitive ears. The Witcher's heart crashes down into his boots; based on the way the shivering Fae has gone pale and silent, the pain is too much for him to process. He’s gone into shock.

A torn wing is exactly the kind of thing Geralt had promised the farmer (and the collective of townspeople he represented) wouldn’t happen to the peaceful moth creature if they hired a Witcher instead of an exterminator. He sighs and gives the strange being another once-over. “Everything's alright, Jaskier. You’re going to be alright. I’m so, so sorry that you've been wounded. We’ll get you out of this net and get you something for the pain, but it’s going to hurt a little to untangle you. Stay still, don’t struggle, and it’ll be over soon.”

“J-Just kill me,” Jaskier pants. He’s continuing to hyperventilate and Geralt needs him to calm down before he passes out. The Fae reaches a hand for the dagger at Geralt's waist and the Witcher twists out of reach with a frown. Jaskier sobs again, fingers still seeking, “I might n-n-never fly a-again so just k-kill me!”

“Breathe with me, Jaskier,” the Witcher instructs, forgoing patience and cutting through the net with that same dagger. He scoops Jaskier up into his arms, ignoring the keening sound at the back of Jaskier’s throat when his wing is jostled, and rushes the Fae to his truck, tucking him into the passenger’s seat and wrapping him in a large, fluffy blanket. “I’m taking you to my friend. She’s an expert at healing magical creatures and I'm certain that she'll get your wing fixed in no time.”

Jaskier doesn’t give an answer. When Geralt looks up into the creature’s face again, the injured Fae has already passed out.

---

Jaskier moves with all the grace of a newborn foal as he explores the room Geralt has provided for him. His wing has been inspected, treated, and bandaged by a rather scary sorceress named Yennefer, who glared at the Witcher the entire time she was caring for him. She had also taken one of Geralt’s old t-shirts and cut an enormous hole in the back for Jaskier’s wings to fit through. The shirt’s bottom hem falls to the middle of his thighs and the thick black material is softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

He hears a knock on the door and calls out, “It’s open!”

Geralt enters slowly, bearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a mug of tea. “I brought you some last minute supplies and - uh… I brought you some tea. Yen always likes some before she goes to sleep and I figured since this was a new place and new places can be scary that I should-”

“Thank you,” Jaskier interrupts, smiling shyly. His antennae twitch happily as he takes the offerings from Geralt's hands and the Witcher watches them with wide eyes. Jaskier carefully sets the pajamas and the tea on the nightstand before turning back to look at Geralt. “I will… see you tomorrow?”

Geralt gives one sharp nod. “Hmm.”

“Goodnight,” Jaskier sing-songs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Geralt exits.

From the other side of the closed door, Jaskier’s superior hearing picks up the Witcher’s final whisper: “Goodnight, Jaskier. I will always be sorry for causing you pain.”

The next morning he meets Geralt at the breakfast table, refreshed and ready to learn about the human world. He’s summoned a glamour in order to hide his more Moth-like traits, the only things that remain of his true nature are his wings and antennae; his fur is gone and he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and that same old shirt. The Witcher offers him a bowl of fruit and mug of something sweet-smelling. Jaskier glares into the mug with a slight pout to his lips before finally asking, “What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Jaskier takes a sip and his antennae flutter, twitching happily as he swallows the best drink he’s ever had in his long life. He eats a strawberry from the bowl and slowly works his way through the hot chocolate, eyeing Geralt warily as the Witcher moves through the familiar kitchen to make his own breakfast.

“Where is Yennefer?”

“She went home,” Geralt shrugs.

“She isn’t your mate?”

“N-No,” Geralt sputters, turning to stare at the nervous young Fae. “Why would you think that?”

“You smell like each other.”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Geralt shrugs again. “Good friends, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier mimics his host for a second time. Rather effectively by the annoyed twitch at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Just wondering.”

“Anything else you’re curious about?”

“Why don’t you have more lights?”

“Huh?”

“Lights,” Jaskier gestures around the minimalistic layout of Geralt’s open-concept kitchen/living room and its distinctive lack of lamps. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward against the dark marble countertop. The pout has gone from 'slight' to 'full-bore' and Geralt is clinging desperately to his braincell with how cute it looks. “It’s no fun.”

“You really like lamps, don’t you?” the Witcher replies, mouth dry. Jaskier huffs and takes another sip of his hot chocolate, antennae flickering back and forth in irritation. Geralt bites his lip to hide a smile; it’s too fucking cute, which is an odd thought for a Witcher to have.

“So what if I do enjoy a nice lamp or five in my living space?” Jaskier argues. "I'm a Moth of taste."

“No matter,” Geralt laughs quietly. “Finish your drink before it gets cold.”

---

Jaskier stays with Geralt for a few weeks while his wing heals, and for a creature whose sole interest seems to be fancy light fixtures, the Fae becomes a source of light in Geralt's own world. They go to a nonhuman friendly second-hand store to find Jaskier some more clothes and Geralt discovers the cryptid's love for oddly patterned shirts in bright colors. Jaskier chooses several to fill out his closet, as well as a sweater two-sizes too large in deep black (Geralt tries his best not to attach any meaning to this choice), a few pairs of pants, and a jean jacket that he declares, "Can be altered."

They watch movies together and make food together - Jaskier is always incredibly impressed by the way the automatic coffee maker works, and how easily Geralt can control the flames of the stove. Jaskier also follows the Witcher along on less dangerous hunts and helps bandage him up after worse ones, always there with a smile and a little kiss over the cleaned-up wound.

“It really is magic,” Jaskier always insists, lips pink and shining from licking them as he concentrates. "It makes you heal faster."

Geralt realizes one night - two weeks into Jaskier’s stay, as he leans against the doorframe and watches the strange creature’s even breathing - that he has gone and done the stupidest thing a Witcher can do: fall in love with a pretty, temperamental young Fae. Head over fuckin’ heels, actually.

So he makes a decision.

---

The next evening, after the dinner dishes have been cleaned and put away, Geralt herds Jaskier down the hall to the guest room. Those entrancing blue eyes blink up at him in obvious confusion. “Bedtime already?”

“No, not quite. I just- I made you… uh…”

“Do you have a surprise for me?” Jaskier asks, used to the Witcher's issues with verbalizing.

Geralt nods, relieved and thankful for the Fae’s steadfast understanding. “Do you want to cover your eyes or should I just open the door and show you?”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Jaskier smiles, covering his eyes with both hands. Geralt finds it adorable, as Jaskier always is, and allows himself a matching grin as he swings the door open. The ceiling light is off but Geralt has built a blanket fort at the center of the room and surrounded it with fairy lights of all colors and sizes. Inside the blanket fort is a mass of blankets and pillows; Jaskier has the odd habit of building nests - Geralt jokingly calls them cocoons - and sleeping in those on the floor instead of on the very comfortable mattress the Witcher has provided.

“Open them,” Geralt urges.

Jaskier pulls his hands away and Geralt watches as his pupils go huge and wide. Jaskier's face breaks out in the sunniest, most blindingly happy smile Geralt has ever seen. He turns and throws his arms around the Witcher, his wings fluttering behind him and his antennae twitching and flicking above his head. He tries desperately to speak but only manages a half-snuffled little “I’m-” before bursting into tears of joy.

Geralt just holds him, letting his arms fold carefully around Jaskier’s waist, just beneath his wings.

"I just wanted you to know that, if you wanted to stay, there would be room for you. Your room, if you want it."

"I do," Jaskier smiles, burying his face in the Witcher's neck. "I'd love to stay. I'd love nothing more than to spend my days going on adventures with you."

"Well then," Geralt gathers all of his courage and presses a soft kiss to the crown of Jaskier's head. He's met with happy spasms from the antennae so he does it again. And again. Moving from the top of the Fae's head to his cheeks and then his mouth - pretty and pink and pouting and so worth the trouble. "I suppose we can get started on our next adventure tomorrow."

[seacottons]

—ateez as boyfriends [ domestic au ]

notes: swearing. suggestive dialogue. fluff. i blame a certain someone for this, not gonna say who. @kireiwoo

— hongjoong

very caring and attentive towards you

so much so, that even his friends have complained how it isn't fair he doesn't scold you like the way he does to them

he enjoys many activities with you, such as

helping him dye his hair an ungodly color every other month

he'll insist you try experimenting with your own tresses

but you only have the courage to dye the very ends of your strands

"i don't think i can pull off that color as well as you do," you'd say.

"that's a load of bull. you'll suit every hair color."

you'll just roll your eyes playfully at his biased behavior.

other activities include getting tiny matching tattoos together.

the tiny flower and butterfly on your wrists was most likely your favorite due to its simplicity in design and the meaning behind it as well.

spontaneous dates are his favorite.

behind closed doors, he loves to constantly shower you with pecks and smooches.

often gets teased by his friends from how whipped he is for you.

randomly books vacations for you two to relax and unwind every so often.

although he enjoys it, he is a big, tired baby when it comes to traveling

always wanting to lean his head against your shoulder

or cuddling you close for warmth due to the airport's air conditioners blasting frigid air.

has written many songs about you

and when he's finally ready, he'll not only ask you to listen to them, but to also spend the rest of your life with him and share his last name as well.

— seonghwa

constant pet names

"darling."

"the sun to my stars."

"the moon to my sun."

"love of my life."

you like to call him mars, mostly.

but he revels when you call him 'twinkle eyes' for some reason.

has a habit of pulling you into his lap.

you'll subconsciously play with the strands of his hair as he does so, him being too distracted bickering with his friends to realize sometimes.

will always give you pleading looks whenever wooyoung or san tease him.

sometimes, you walk in to find wooyoung settling onto your boyfriend's back while he greedily devours the bowl of popcorn entirely by himself.

or other times when both wooyoung and san constrict his limbs with their arms whenever you're near.

"y/n can't save you now, so cut the whining."

you'll only sigh and shake your head in amusement.

"what are you guys doing to my poor boyfriend?"

"he changed the movie we were watching without our permission!"

"because i have no damn clue what's going on, and harry potter is too confusing!"

coffee dates.

loves to sleep with you tucked against his chest.

always has an arm draped around your frame.

butterfly kisses on your neck.

soft touches against the small of your back and waist.

his favorite pastime with you would be stargazing.

"baby, look. it's me, mars-io," he'd say whilst pointing up to the large, bright star in the night sky.

when it's too cloudy outside, or when the weather isn't forgiving, he'll turn on the indoor star projector he bought so the two of you can stargaze in the comfort of your own bed.

— yunho

is the epitome of romantic.

is constantly smothering you in love and affection.

always has heart eyes and admiration in his eyes at whatever small task you do or say.

rant about an ancient dynasty?

heart eyes.

bombard him with useless information about a certain abandoned island.

heart eyes.

gush about the new cute bakery that recently opened up?

heart eyes.

if you had a money jar for every time he says 'i love you', you'd have enough money to buy a plane ticket or two.

always willing to drop everything to help you with whatever it is you need.

will wake up in the middle of the night when you text him to ask if he's awake or not.

willingly stays up to keep you company.

but sometimes, when he's too tired, he'll knock out accidentally and profusely apologize to you in the morning.

very supportive of your life choices.

hates seeing you cry because it makes him want to bawl his eyes out as well.

his hugs are bone-crushing.

but he is a gentle giant nonetheless.

likes to attempt to bake pastries with you.

half of the time, the goods either turn out undercooked or burnt.

"they have love in them, that's all that matters."

will always insist that you can rant to him about anything and everything.

you've never felt so valued in your life before meeting him.

is the most understanding human being you've ever gotten the pleasure of knowing.

"i wish we were vampires," he says one day.

you give him an amused look, lips outstretched into a smile, "why, silly?"

"so we can spend an eternity together."

— yeosang

his heart flutters when you notice the smallest things he does.

it makes him feel appreciated and acknowledged.

like when he changes up his hairstyle or earrings.

or when he wears a new sweater.

a big, big softie when it comes to you.

can and will want to spend all day in your arms on his days off.

quick witted and has a knack for noticing the tiniest detail.

very shy and awkward at first.

but when he gets more comfortable as time passes on, you won't be safe from his snarky little comments anymore.

will constantly bring up the thing you said or did months ago to prove a point.

"oh, you like this flavor? three months ago you told me it tasted like vomit."

"remember that time you woke up in a rush to get to work thinking you were late, only for me to drag you back inside because it was three in the fucking morning?"

you stop mid-chew and peer up from your plate of rice.

"your point, yeosang?"

"oh, nothing this time. i just wanted to tease you."

is the type to have a mid-life crisis when you can't decide on a restaurant.

"but i don't want to eat at the chicken place again," you'll whine.

"it's been thirty minutes, and you still haven't decided what you want!"

"you're rushing me!"

"y/n! just pick!"

loves to cuddle with you, especially in the colder months.

wraps a blanket around your frame and tugs you in closer against his chest.

pretends not to understand your jokes just to spite and tease you.

loves when you cling onto him.

his favorite pastime with you would be just walking around together at night and trying out different types of street food.

or even visiting any of the local beaches for a relaxing walk together.

— san

persistently keen about whenever you feel upset or down.

he reads you better than any open book.

sometimes, it scares you, but you appreciate how he's always so eagle-eyed about your behavior.

loves to hug your head.

you allow wooyoung to crash some of your dates with san sometimes.

other times, san will whine and tell him to go find his own date.

"if y/n accepted you as a boyfriend, then you should've disclosed that i'm part of the deal as well. buy one get one free."

"as what exactly?"

"the hot, clingy best friend."

will take numerous duck-faced selfies of himself because you think they're cute.

often times, he'll ask you to mirror his expression, only for him to press his lips against yours a second before his phone snaps the picture.

likes when you kiss his dimple.

"y/n! it looks like a crater from the amount of times you've kissed it."

he likes to tease you.

a lot.

touchy.

very touchy.

always has an arm around you.

rests his chin against your shoulders.

playfully smacks your rear when you're sassy with him.

or leans in to hold your jaw whilst whispering teasing words into your ear that has you becoming docile and bothered in mere seconds.

has you wrapped around his finger as much as you have him wrapped around your own.

likes to have weekly picnics with you at the park and admires all the dogs running about.

"i should bring byeol next week. maybe she'll like to play fetch too."

"i don't think that's a good idea.."

you often find him fast asleep holding onto a plushie for dear life whenever you're away.

you'll pull it away from his arms, causing him to stir awake groggily.

he'll stare in confusion as you throw the plushie aside, before pulling you in tighter as you wriggle into his arms.

"you're softer than shiber," he'll mumble sleepily against the crown of your head.

— mingi

mingi is sometimes self-conscious around the public eye and others, but when it comes to you, those layers of fear and insecurity get stripped away instantly.

doesn't mind being vulnerable with you.

he craves affection, adores it even, but is insecure about not being able to return it well enough for his liking.

likes when you give him attention.

easily gets jealous when someone else grabs your interest.

reassuring him 24/7.

"yes, mingi. you're the love of my life."

kissing his pouting lips for good measure.

the smallest of gestures has him a blushing mess.

even holding hands in public.

when he's not being a sentimental sap, he'll like teasing you lovingly.

"wow, you have this many photos of me in your phone?"

you'll scrutinize him in confusion.

"are you that obsessed with me, y/n?"

"mingi! you told me to take half of those photos of you!"

"oh, right. i forgot."

a silence weighs down onto the two of you.

"but would you have taken them if i never asked you to?"

constantly laughs about the things you say, although you don't think you're that funny.

always seeks your approval subconsciously.

will always shield you from the rain, playfully yelling at the droplets sometimes.

"you can't make y/n wet! only i can!"

"mingi! we are in public!"

wanted to go strawberry picking because he saw a celebrity try it out on instagram live.

accidentally steps on many berries though.

"it's okay, they'll just make another plant. i did them a favor."

brags about you like no tomorrow.

even for the tiniest, minuscule thing.

"oh, i've already tried the brand of ice cream. y/n always buys that for me."

"i don't need to pay all this money for a measly slice of cake. y/n's cakes are much better."

"no, wooyoung. i'm not jealous of your new shoes." he'll lightly pinch the boy's side, "y/n and i have already bought ourselves matching pairs."

"you two are so fucking cheesy, it hurts."

when he's not bragging about you, he's boasting about himself.

but if that's what helps him raise his confidence levels up, you'll gladly sit down hours on end listening to how he has more 'swag' and 'charisma' than all of his older friends combined.

— wooyoung

teases you like his life depends on it.

says you can't get enough of him, when in reality it's the other way around.

but you let him believe whatever he wants.

but deep down he just really gets satisfied with himself if he raises your mood and makes you smile.

especially when you're not having a great day.

uses way too many emojis when texting you.

"wooyoung, why am i saved as as 'clingy bug' on your contacts?"

he'll squawk indignantly and laugh awkwardly for a second.

"who told you this lie!?"

"seonghwa?"

always wants to show off your love in front of his friends.

"no, i don't want my early birthday gift now. wait until the others show up, and do it front of them."

"but why?"

"so everyone can see how much you love me. can you also cry for good measure?"

"absolutely not."

he enjoys the dates you have in his apartment the most.

the ones where he cooks for you and asks for your help, only for him to pester you about over-seasoning or undersalting something.

"okay, fine! we'll just order take out if it tastes that bad," you pout, flinging a small piece of onion on his face.

his head instantly snaps back to eye you judgingly, fist gripping the poor spatula.

"over my dead body."

"so, y/n. how does my plating look?"

"it's beautiful, wooyoung. you've outdone y-"

"what else is beautiful?" he demands, face leaning over the table to give you a knowing grin.

you shove a piece of meat and rice into his mouth, shrugging nonchalantly.

"me."

he deflates at your answer, spluttering pieces of rice onto your face.

"jung wooyoung, you slob!"

— jongho

is the type of boyfriend to stop you in the middle of the road to tie your shoe for you.

very charming and goofy in his own way.

takes pride in himself and his abilities to cater to your every whim and need.

even when you don't ask for his help.

aggressively opens jars for you when you struggle to pry them open.

"no one messes with my y/n."

"you're fussing at a jar of pickled radish, baby."

the type to cling close to you in public in fear of any of the bicyclists or pedestrians bumping into you and harming you in any way.

sometimes acts like you're made of glass.

while it's endearing occasionally, it is a bit suffocating at other times.

doesn't believe you when you say you're tough and don't need protection.

very selfless and willing to help you with anything you need.

never one to shy away from social gatherings with his friends, always pulling you along with him despite you being shy and clingy most of the night.

also a big tease.

when you help him hold down his legs for sit ups, he asks for a smooch.

pulls away from you when you try to kiss him.

and will laugh at your pouting face as he urges you to try once more.

"stop moving, i just want to kiss you!"

after numerous tries, he finally allows you ( you truly think you over-powered him though ) to kiss his cheeks or lips.

he then proceeds to squawk loudly in retaliation and playful disgust.

although he loves teasing you, when the game is flipped the other way, he'll be a shy mess of embarrassment.

"i don't mumble your name in my sleep."

"you always do, silly."

tucked underneath his macho exterior, you know he's prone to criticism and takes it to heart much more than he likes to show and admit.

so, whenever you get the chance, you always fulfill his need to be appreciated, loved, and taken care of.

is utterly and extremely protective of you.

"who just whistled at you?" he grumbles, "i'll break their jaw like an apple, you know i will."

[teasty]

kiss yourself (03) || h.js

● pairing: han jisung x (female) reader

● genre: angst, smut, (kinda) fluff  ||  fwb to lovers au || college!au || non!idol au

● warnings: | praise + degradation | reader and jisung are not in a relationship at the beginning! | suggestive dialogue | profanity | unprotected sex | softdom!harddom!jisung | reader gets into short fist fight | fingering | hair pulling | slight dumbification |

● words: 10.4k

→ summary: It all started when you and your best friend for life, Han Jisung, got a little bit too tipsy at a party and ended up waking up naked in the same bed. After that unfortunate night, you and Jisung confirmed there be a distinguished “friends with benefits” relationship between the two of you, with a few rules.

Number One: No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.

Number Two: The minute one of the two of you starts a serious relationship with someone, the benefits are cut off immediately.

Number Three: Have to respect the other’s wishes, if one doesn’t want to do it, then there’s no argument.

Number Four: No falling in love.

But, when Jisung starts crushing over your classmate, you start to break the rules. One by one.

a/n: a lot happens in this chapter,, it's pretty fast paced but it is what it is ~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | CHAPTER THREE

“I want you to fuck me dumb, Jisung. I want to think about nothing but you.”

You refused to cry, no matter how bad you wanted to.

You didn’t actually head back to the dorm, deciding you weren’t tired enough to fall asleep fast enough and that you simply wanted to have the comfort of being alone for the time being. You’re so fed up, so irritated and stressed, not even Jisung fucking you over and over again until you’re too weak to even speak could fix it. Neither did you feel like dealing with Jeongja, so you headed straight for the 24/7 cafe a few blocks away from the school. You didn’t go there often, but you went there a few times with Jisung in the mornings. You weren’t as familiar with the place like he was, but you knew for a fact that it was open all day, every week day.

There was only one other person in the cafe. A young, tired looking woman who typed vigorously on her laptop, which was plugged into the wall along with her phone, which she listened to whatever on. She must be a college student, since she had a backpack at her feet and a lanyard hanging from her pocket. You didn’t recognize her, so she was probably your senior. She gave you a subtle glance before turning back to her laptop, and you ignored her. Walking (more limping) up to the cashier.

“Welcome. It’s pretty late,” said a man who didn’t seem too young, but nor too old. Probably in his mid - twenties. He had a small stubble on his chin and his longish hair is tied back, a few rebellious strands framing his decently structured face. You could make out his toned chest and broad shoulders underneath the beige button up he wore, a dusty pink apron around his waist, accompanied by a pair of black slacks. He’s attractive, you couldn’t deny. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too late for a pretty little lady like you to be walking around, alone, in a tee shirt?”

“I’m fine on my own,” you admit, “I’ve been here a few times, but I can’t remember the menu. Mind handing me one?” The man nods, reaching over something to grab a one sided menu, and he hands it to you. After glancing over it, you felt too nauseous to eat, but you needed caffeine, something to keep you going since sleep wasn’t going to be an option for you tonight. “Can I just get an americano? Make it large, please, I need it.”

“Oh, coffee at this hour?” He chuckles.

“This is a coffee shop,” you glance around, a little agitated.

“Yeah, yeah,” the man laughs out, waving a hand as he pressed a few buttons on the cash register, “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart. Is that all you want? An americano, large?”

“No, get me the green tea, too,” you sigh, placing down the menu. It’s not like you to get bitter drinks, let alone two. You’re actually more of a sweets kind of person. But, since you’re not feeling too well, you just want hot, bitter drinks to keep you from going insane.

The man nods, “Hmm, tough night?” You nod slowly, “Surprised you came to a coffee shop. Most people who have rough nights usually hang around at the bar down the road. What made you come here of all places?”

“Well, it’s the first place I thought of,” you shrug a shoulder, “I don’t want a hangover in the morning either. I always know how those go. Never had the best luck when I’m drunk.” You chuckle, smiling wistfully for a moment before it turns into a bitter frown at the thought of your vague first time with Jisung. You shake your head slowly, subtly. It wasn’t a mistake. Not at all. It wasn’t bad luck. But, right now, it kind of feels like it. You’ve gotten more attached to Jisung than you have the years before you both started fucking around. “Plus, my friend used to bring me here. Thought I’d see the place alone.”

“Well, I appreciate you stopping by,” the man smiles down at you, and you give him a brief one back, “What’s your name? What should I put as the name, sorry.”

“(Y/N) (L/N),” you grumble out your name.

“Are you a foreigner?”

“No. My parents just aren’t born here,” you respond, having gotten the question hundreds of times in the past.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/N) (L/N),” the man smiles, and you chuckle softly as he rings up the order, “My name is Jeongguk. I assume you go to the college down the road?” Jeongguk asks as you sit on one of the stools at the counter. You sigh, your shoulders dropping as you nod slowly. Watching as Jeongguk prepares the americano. “Ah, I used to go there. I already graduated.”

“What was your major?” You ask curiously.

“I was a fine arts major. I only have my undergrad, but I’m saving up to go back and get my masters,” Jeongguk says.

“Oh,” your eyes brighten, intrigued by the sudden conversation, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’ll you do with your masters once you get it?”

Jeongguk sighs, his head tilting slightly as he focuses his eyes on the drink in his hand, perfecting it, “I’m not sure, actually. There’s a lot of things I could do. I could just work under a company to make things for ‘em, like designs and shit like that. But, I’m more into painting. Heh, but there’s not much painting can get for you nowadays. I haven’t seen many jobs that take in painters, so I’m reconsidering whether or not painting should be my go - to.”

“Right,” you nod, completely understanding, “It’s an amazing skill to have, though. You could probably start up on social media and sell your works worldwide.”

“Social media’s never been my forte, but it’s a thought,” Jeongguk passes you the americano, and you don’t hesitate to take a sip of the hot drinking, cringing slightly at the bitter taste. But, you soon get used to it. “What’s your major?”

“Political science,” you chuckle.

“Oh - ho! We got a smarty - pants over here, now don’t we?” Jeongguk jokes as he grabs a white, bulky mug from a shelf. You chuckle, a bit flusters. Already feeling better from this conversation with him, “The only person I knew in political science was Chris! You know Chan? Bang Chan?”

“Yeah, he’s on my committee, we’re friends,” you shrug a shoulder.

“Nice. Let him know I said hi, won’t you?” You nod quickly, taking another sip of the coffee, “Is it as much work as they say?”

“Well, with this dumb team I was pressured into, yeah, it’s a lot more than most other people with different majors seem to have,” you answer, and Jeongguk nods slowly, listening intently as he puts a kettle filled with water on a small stovetop. He then turns to you and leans against the bar table separating you both, “It’s fine, though. I’m just doing it to get a job so I can provide myself with enough money to get what I need and a bit more to have what I want. People in that field get lots of money, you know?”

“Yeah, just depends on what you decide to be,” Jeongguk nods.

“I guess you’re right,” you nod slowly, “I’m most likely to graduate with my bachelors, but I’m gonna take law so I can be a lawyer. Either tort or criminal, I don’t mind.”

“Ah, those are tricky fields in law, aren’t they,” Jeongguk chuckles, and you nod slowly, “Well, I wish you the best of luck. By the way, when did you and Chris become friends? I’ve been friends with him for a few years, now, and I don’t recall him being with you.”

“Oh, I only befriended him at the beginning of the year,” you say, and Jeongguk nods, “I went to a party with my friend and met him there. We’re also on the same committee for planning for the school, so we got pretty close.”

“You mean the huge party right before school started up, don’t you?” You nod slowly, “Mm. I know just what party you’re talking about. I think I might’ve seen you. You looked familiar when you walked in, so it’d make sense. Let me guess, were you with one of Chris’s buds? I forget his name, but I think his family name is Han, right?”

Your eyes instantly roll, and you nod, “Yeah. Han Jisung. I went with him.”

“Ouch, what a reaction,” Jeongguk laughs, noting your eyes which rolled sassily, “Did he do something to you?”

“It’s a long story.” You admit. It’s not too long, actually. It could be simplified, but you didn’t want to talk about it to a stranger.

“I have time,” Jeongguk says, smiling brightly.

You raise a brow, “So do I, and I’m going to spend it drinking my coffee.” Jeongguk raises his hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine. Have it your way,” And finally, Jeongguk finished your tea and gave it to you.

You both talked for the remainder of the night (well, morning) until the sun came up. You had about five coffees, trying different kinds that Jeongguk suggested, and another green tea with honey in it. You learned that Jeongguk graduated early, mostly since he didn’t have enough money, but he was also ahead of the rest of the year by a long run, so he privately graduated. He didn’t start working at the coffee shop until a few months ago, and works the night shift and was the only one there. Apparently, no one usually came in during his shift except for travellers passing by or the tired college students, which were more likely to come by and study.

You didn’t even notice it was morning until Jeongguk’s face illuminated with the sunlight over the city’s buildings. You both traded numbers, and you promised to come again during his shift on his days. He said he’d text you, but you weren’t too sure he would. You were at least thankful to not be totally alone that night, since part of you knew that Jisung was going to get to your head, and you’d be either upset or angry. Jeongguk was able to rid your mind of him, even if only for those five or so hours you sat there, talking to him.

But, once you walked into your dorm to change into a quick pair of different clothes, all you could think about is Jisung. Debating your feelings.

You, however, constantly repeated to yourself that you didn’t even like him like that. He’s only a friend. Only a friend. Have it be with or without benefits, he’s only a friend.

You decided to just wear a pair of baggy sweats and an old hoodie, not caring much for your appearance. Although there’s tons of caffeine running through your system, you were still exhausted from the lack of sleep, and your mood had been dropped. You knew there was probably going to be another meeting today with Chunae, but you couldn’t be too sure. You didn’t get any work done last night (obviously), and you don’t know whether or not you’ll hear it from her or not, whether or not she’ll pull you out of class again for a meeting you could care less about.

You didn’t see Jisung for the first few hours of school, per usual. He didn’t try texting you nor calling you, which you were a bit skeptical about, but you tried to ignore it. You’re supposed to be agitated with him. And, you are. You still cared for him, and you still miss him despite it being only one night. But, then again, he probably didn’t miss you the way you missed him.

He would miss you, sure. But he wouldn’t miss the way you kiss him, right? He wouldn’t miss the way you hold him. The way you love him.

But, you’re not in love with him.

You can’t be.

You did see Chris, though. He actually walked up to you during passing hall and pulled you aside, against a wall. He wore a concerned, tired look as he folded his arms. Staring down at you, and rose a brow. It was silent for a moment until you emit a low, “What?”

“What’s going on between you and Jisung?” Christopher says sternly, and your blood runs cold right then and there. Your eyes widen and your brows raise as you stare up at him. Did he know? You’re too scared to answer.

“What… do you mean?” You utter out.

“Jisung called me last night asking if you were at my dorm last night at, like, midnight. Woke me up when I should’ve gotten sleep…” Christopher grumbles, rubbing his temple, “He said he thought you would have run off to my place. Didn’t say shit as to why, though. Didn’t say a damn thing. The boy even asked me to go to your dorm to see if you were there, but no one answered. I figured you were asleep. I just need to know why Jisung had to call me at fucking midnight ‘cause of you.” Christopher’s Australian accent slips into his Korean, which means he’s probably both irritated and tired.

“Oh… I’m sorry. No, I was out at some coffee shop until, like, five in the morning last night,” You answer truthfully, and Christopher sighs, “Oh, and by the way. I talked to Jeongguk there. He said hello.”

“Really, now? Jeon Jeongguk?” Christopher asks, and you shrug a shoulder, “Well, I appreciate it. Tell the guy I miss him. But, that’s not the point. At this point, I’m kind of concerned. I went over my conversation with Jisung last night all morning and yet I can’t find a single reason why you would be running to my dorm like he thought or why he didn’t go see you himself. Did he do something wrong?”

“It’s not that it’s wrong. I’m just upset about it,” you answer, and Christopher nods slowly.

“Do you mind telling me what that is? If you do, it’s a possibility I can help,” Christopher suggests, but you smile and slowly shake your head.

“It’s not something you can help with this time, Chan,” You sigh, “It’s a bit too personal.”

“Okay, now I’m really concerned. I might have been Jisung’s friend longer, but I care about you, too, (Y/N). Please tell me what’s wrong. I know something’s happening between the two of you. And if it’s really that personal, I promise on my life not to tell anybody,” Christopher says.

You sigh and look around before grabbing the man’s hand and pulling him away to somewhere more private. He didn’t argue, but he seemed a bit surprised at how quickly you acted. You pulled him out to the courtyard, not caring much for being tardy, anymore. Your heart thumped in your chest. The rules vividly recite themselves in your mind; “No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.”

Well, here goes one rule flushed down the toilet.

Once you stopped, Christopher shoves his hands in his pocket, shrugging his shoulders at you, “Okay, now what is it?”

You shake your head slightly, debating whether or not to tell him. If Jisung found out, it’d be the death of you. But, you don’t know if you should be excited about that or scared. You’re not sure how he’d react to such news from Christopher.

You know what, fuck it, you thought to yourself.

“Well?”

“We’ve been fucking since the party,” you blurt out, and Christopher’s brows raise in shock. At both the news and how flat toned and blunt you were being. “I got a bit too tipsy and we ended up having sex. We made specific rules, which is so dumb of me to say since one of them is to literally tell nobody. Which means you can’t tell anyone and you can’t let Jisung know that you know this or he will kill me, Chan. Kill me, got it? Whatever, it… he and I had a bit of a fight after doing it last night.”

“But why?” Christopher carefully asks.

“Because he’s after a girl. A girl I’m not too fond of,” you admit.

“Chunae, isn’t it?”

“How’d you know?” You raise a brow, glad he isn’t overreacting to your confession to sleeping around with Jisung.

“Let’s just say that he’s been flirting with her every chance he gets,” Christopher admits, and you sigh softly, looking down in disappointment, but trying your hardest not to make it too obvious about how upset you were, “They share some classes, and he’s apparently been talking to her every chance he gets. Not to mention, Chunae seemed pretty into him, too.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you sigh, tiredness suddenly coming over you, as well as exhaustion, “We fought about it, but I’m the one in the wrong. He has every right to like someone and want to date someone. But… I dunno.”

“Do you love him?” Christopher asks slowly, and you take a seat at the nearest bench, Christopher following behind you and sitting next to you.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully in a small voice, “I really don’t know. One part of me misses him so much whenever I’m without him. One part of me loves him, but the other part just tells me that he’s only my friend and nothing more. But, yeah. He wanted me to stay the night at his dorm, but I didn’t since he only had me over and treated me well because he’s going to cut things off soon.”

“Do you want him to cut things off?”

“No!” You yell, a little too upset with the situation, and Christopher breaths in through his nose. You cover your face with his hands, slightly muffled by your hands, “I don’t! But he says that we will, and I-” you don’t bother to look up, cutting yourself off before you start crying out of nowhere. Your head hurt from the lack of sleep, but your eyes hurt from the need and resistance to cry.

Christopher placed a warm hand on your back, and you breath slowly.

“I don’t want him to leave me, Chris… I really don’t,” you shake your head slightly. Christopher’s hand massages your back and shoulders reassuringly. His warm hand giving you the reassurance you needed.

“I know, (Y/N), I know. It’s alright,” he sighs, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you into a hug. You don’t resist it. In fact, you lift yourself up to let your hands grip onto his shirt to hug him tightly, “If you’ll like, I can talk to Jisung. I won’t tell him that I know about the… benefits… but, I’ll let him know that you just don’t feel comfortable about his relationship with Chunae, alright? How does that sound?” Christopher’s voice is sweet and soft, calming you from your growing tears.

“That sounds perfect, Channie… thank you,” you whisper softly, your head burrowed in his chest.

It’s weird being held by another man. Another man that isn’t Han Jisung. It’s nice, especially since Christopher has such a loving and gentle personality. His hands hug you without any awkwardness, and it’s nice that someone other than Jisung can hug you without being uncomfortable.

But, your comfort was soon taken away when Christopher let’s go of you and shifts in his seat. You look up, and you see someone familiar walking towards you both. At first, your tears — blurred eyes make it impossible to see who it is, but once your eyes are cleared, Han Jisung’s perfect face comes into view. His face is stoic, his lips down turned in a subtle frown. His eyes are focused on you, and you stand up in your spot, clutching your backpack to get ready to leave.

“Don’t you dare move, (Y/N),” Jisung yells loudly, and you freeze at the spot. Christopher’s eyes widening from how aggressive Jisung sounded. Once he’s directly in front of you, he finally looks over to Christopher, and steps towards him, “I asked you to check up on her, Chan. Not do whatever the fuck you guys were doing just now.”

“What, comforting her?” Christopher stands his ground, standing up despite them both being the same height, “Something you should have been doing instead of me?”

Your hand clamps over your mouth. Jisung’s brows furrow, and his fists clench, but he doesn’t do anything, “I asked you a simple favor. To check up on her for me.”

“And that’s what I was doing,” Christopher defends himself, and you watch curiously. Neither of them spare you a glance, both staring at each other, “I’m not trying to pick a fight here, Jisung. But, it’s not my place to take care of her in… your situation.” Christopher looks Jisung up and down, and Jisung wears a disgusted look on his face. “I only asked what the fuck you did for you to think she was running off to me. ‘Cause, she was actually at the fucking coffee shop all damn morning talking to Jeongguk.”

“Jeongguk?” Jisung’s brows furrow, and he looks over to you briefly. You slowly nod, “Did you sleep at all last night?” You slowly shook your head, and Jisung groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. He turns back to Christopher, “Can you leave, Chan? I need to talk to her.”

Christopher looks past Jisung to you, and you shake your head slowly. Somewhat afraid of being alone with Jisung just for what you will talk about. However, Christopher gives you an apologetic look before turning back to Jisung, “Fine. Call me later (Y/N). If you don’t, I’m stopping by your dorm to check up on you.”

“Alright… Bye, Chan…” You mumble loudly back, and Christopher gives Jisung a subtle glance before grabbing his things and walking away.

You sat back down, half expecting Jisung to do the same. But, no, he stood in front of you. Towering over you as you stared at your feet. His hands stuff themselves into his hoodie’s pockets, and there’s a tense silence.

“Jisung…”

“Why did you run off like that last night, (Y/N)?” Jisung immediately cuts you off, and you can’t find yourself having the courage to look him in the eyes. You felt embarrassed for yourself, but you had to stay and talk to him. You don’t know how to answer. You don’t have a straight answer in your tired mind. “Answer me, (Y/N). We’re not going to get anywhere if you keep quiet.”

“I don’t know, Jisung,” you breathe out, gripping the bench below you, “I… Was just irritated.”

“Why?” Jisung crouches down so you can’t avoid his eyes. Unlike how you thought, Jisung’s eyes were more concerned than angry, like you thought they’d be. His hand escapes his pocket to rest on your knee, “I knew you weren’t irritated. You were just fine before I started talking about Chunae.”

Caught red handed. You stared at him like a deer in headlights, and your lips purse, trying your hardest to find an answer.

“I don’t know, Jisung. I really don’t,” you whisper to him pitifully, and Jisung shakes his head.

“No… No, I know you know the answer, (Y/N). I can make everything better if you just talked to me,” Jisung says in a voice you rarely heard. He’s usually joking around or simply has such an upbeat attitude. It’s so rare to see Jisung this serious, it almost makes you want to cry by how it affects you so. The way his voice lowers, relaxing and calming, yet stern. The way his eyes weren’t bright or happy, but not cold or angry.

It was almost scary.

“You say that as if there’s something wrong with me,” you try to chuckle bitterly, dodging his stare. But, his head moves with yours, and his hand that rests on your knee rises to firmly cup your cheek, turning your head to look directly at him with no exceptions.

“Because there is. There’s something you’re not telling me,” Jisung answers.

“Jisung,” your voice hardens, your heartbeat rising as Jisung’s words tug and pull at your heart, “I need to get to class. I’m already very late.”

“No, you’re staying here until we figure this out,” Jisung’s other hand grips your wrist, tugging at it, even though you never moved to get up in the first place. He seemed on edge, and took a brief glance behind him before turning back to you, “You’re my best friend for life, (Y/N). You know that. I care so much for you, and if there’s something wrong with my decisions, then I need you to tell me.”

“I…” your eyes close for a minute, nibbling on your bottom lip before looking up at him, “I don’t want you to cut things off between us, Jisung. I want to keep doing this… whatever this is. It makes me happy, Jisung.”

“Oh, (Y/N)...” Jisung sighs softly, his head dipping for a moment before he looks up at you with a pitiful smile, “Is that why you were mad last night?”

“So what if it is? You won’t do anything about it,” you answer, and Jisung’s brows furrow, “Even if I begged on my knees for you to keep doing this with me, you’d still reject me, wouldn’t you?”

“I — (Y/N), you know that I—“

“Wouldn’t you?” You cut him off, your glossy eyes boring into his. His hand falls from your face, resting on your thigh, and he squeezes it slightly.

“It depends…” Jisung answers truthfully, “On what I’m rejecting you for.” Your frown deepens, upset with his answer. Even so, you would’ve been upset if he said no. “If it’s for something stupid, like someone told me to stop or I had moral changes, hell no. But if it were for something like… like Chunae and I… then yes.”

You don’t answer him. You just stare at him, blinking every so often to try and keep away the growing tears. He would choose Chunae over you. Of course. You should have known. Everyone loved Chunae. Chunae deserved everyone’s love for how pretty, smart and proper she is. Of course Han Jisung would reject the sassy, immature and lazy (Y/N) (L/N) for a perfect woman like Chunae. You’re not a perfect woman. Not at all.

Not for Han Jisung.

It was then, at that moment of thoughts of Chunae and Jisung running through your head that you came to a sudden realization as you stared into Jisung’s worried eyes.

You’re in love with him.

You’re in love with Han Jisung. Your best friend.

“Get away from me,” you mumble.

“What…?” Jisung’s brows furrow.

“I said get away from me,” your broken voice whimpers out, “You make everything so much harder for me. Everything…” You shove away his hands and stand up, but Jisung is quick to scramble up and wrap his arms around your waist, his chest pressed against your back as his face burrows into your neck.

Your heart burns badly. It’s painful, too painful. You feel as though you’re going to collapse from how painful it is.

“Don’t go, yet. Please. You’re confusing me, (Y/N),” Jisung whispers into your neck, his warm breath sending tingles down your spine.

“No. I said get away from me,” you try and push him away, scooping your arms under his to try and push him away. But, Jisung is oddly persistent.

But, you eventually get away, grabbing your things and dashing off.

“No, (Y/N), wait! Please!” Jisung yells after you, but you're already to the building doors, throwing yourself into the building and dashing to the girl’s bathroom to recollect yourself.

And, thankfully, it’s empty. You throw your backpack down and lean against the sink. Finally, you let the tears fall. They fell down your cheeks fast and hot, the aching feeling of relief in your mind allowing you to breath slowly as the tears dripped mercilessly down your face, showing no signs of stopping.

You stared at yourself in the mirror as you cried. You were quiet. Making no sound other than sniffling here and there. You don’t even try to wipe away the tears that stain your face, too bothered and eager to cry to do so. Your eyes grow red and big, your cheeks reddening from the tears and your heart aching badly in your chest.

Once the thought of being in love with Han Jisung enters your mind, you look away from yourself. Your head falling, and you grip your hair. Shaking your head in your arms, Letting out muffled, “No, no, no!”s as you started to weakly, softly sob. Your body trembles with your tears.

You can’t be in love with Han Jisung. It’ll only end in your heartbreak. Jisung will cut things off immediately, and probably push you away once he finds out. You can’t for the life of you let him find out. You’re too scared to tell him yourself, so you have to keep it a secret from anyone who might be able to tell him and have him believe it. It’s too risky, so you’d have to keep this painful secret to yourself, no matter how badly you wanted to babble on and on about how much you hate this feeling and about how good he makes you feel, emotionally and physically.

You didn’t say a word to anyone after your short breakdown in the bathroom. You soon grew too tired to cry, and too stressed to go back to class, so you waited out that period before your lunch hour would come by. You didn’t know where to go. There would be girls hogging the bathroom, and hundreds of other students roaming the campus. You really didn’t want to be around people at this point, but you didn’t have much of a choice in the first place.

So, you went to the courtyard. You called Christopher, telling him about what happened, and he said he was going to be there right away and to meet him by the outdoor canteen. So, you sat at an empty table, waiting.

You scrolled mindlessly through your phone, wearing a blank, stoic expression as nothing was present in your all — too tired mind. Your backpack resting against your leg as you waited.

When you hear loud footsteps coming near, you look up. Not expecting who it was at first. It’s Chunae, and she looks on edge and upset. Her perfectly tinted lips frown darkly at you, and she stops in front of you.

“And where were you last class period?” She asks, and you raise your brow, turning off your phone and resting it on the table.

“Not there? Why do you care?” You scowl back at her, staring up at her with a dark glare. However, she doesn’t seem to back down, only to get angrier.

“I was supposed to give you more papers for people to contact, as well as parents and volunteers,” she throws a stack of papers in front of you. And you gawk at it. She already gave you so much shit to do beforehand, why the hell is she giving you more? You already have enough work, she should know that. She knew as well as the rest how busy political students are. And she had the audacity to throw a stack of papers on your desk and demand you to analyze and contact each person? “I want them done by this weekend, no exceptions.”

“You don’t get to decide that, Chunae,” You scoff, smiling bitterly at her. Your own anger rising, “I already have enough shit from the other stack of documents you thrusted down my throat on top of my school work. I’m not doing all this shit in less than a week!” You nearly yell, but you don’t raise your voice too much. You thrust an angry finger at the stack.

“Listen, (Y/N),” Chunae sighs, “I’m not in the best of moods right now. I don’t want to deal with bullshit right now when we’re on a tight schedule. This event is in danger of being shut down completely if we don’t finish it soon.”

“And does it look like I give two shits?” You sarcastically smile.

“Don’t joke with me, (Y/N), and please control your language. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Oh, boo — hoo,” you roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair, “What do you want? A cookie?”

“Don’t, (Y/N). I swear.” Chunae vaguely threatens, and you smirk.

“You swear what?” You urge, standing up slowly. Taking a step towards her, and she takes a small one back. Her expression doesn’t change. Her dead, yet beautiful brown eyes glaring into yours, “What’ll you do? Give me more paperwork? Tell me off to Daddy? Punch my teeth in?” You glare down at her hand, cocking a snarky brow at it before glaring at her, “I’d like to see you try to lay a finger on me.”

“Like you could do any better,” Chunae snaps, and you’re surprised how she’s snapping back instead of de — escalating the situation. It makes you excited. The urge to punch her only grew, “Your words are louder than your actions, (Y/N). Don’t underestimate me.”

You laugh loudly, “Ha! That’s funny! You… scary? Hey, I give an A- for effort, how about it?” You elbow her arm jokingly before turning back to glare through the paperwork she so selfishly threw your way.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” Chunae snaps.

“You forget who’s older.”

“You forget who has Han Jisung.”

You freeze. The paper falling out of your hand as you turn slowly to see a smirking Chunae. Smiling as though she killed off her worst enemy. Your mouth falls open, and you scoff.

“What… the fuck did you just say?” You grumble darkly, her hands balling into fists at your sides.

“I said… You forget who has Han Jisung,” she repeats slowly.

You had heard her loud and clear. Just like you heard Jisung when he confessed his adoration for Chunae. You were just in shock. You did not expect this out of someone like her. And, just like that, all your respect was lost for the woman. She crossed a border she could never escape. She’s crossed a line she can never retract over. She’s pushed buttons inside you that can’t be fixed.

“I dare you to say that again.” You growl through gritted teeth, and in the corners of your eyes, you can see Christopher walking up. But, a small crowd had started to watch you and Chunae. He stops by them, deciding not to intervene physically.

“(Y/N)?” Christopher yells, and you turn your head to him. “Is…” He grows silent when he sees your angry glare.

You turn back to Chunae, Christopher watching silently, prepared if anything happens. He pulls out his phone, and presses a few buttons before pressing it to his ear. Speaking to the person on the other line under his breath. You could care less, though, and you mainly focused on Chunae.

“I said I dare you to say that again!” You finally yell, and the people in the canteen grow silent. All heads turning to the both of you, and Christopher continues talking on the phone to whoever it is. Your hand flies up, gripping the hem of Chunae’s blouse. Pulling her intimidatingly close. You’re slightly taller than her, so she looked up at you.

Chunae only chuckles softly, “I have Han Jisung… He’s mine, isn’t he?”

As if on cue, your fist, knuckling white from clenching it so hard, comes into contact with Chunae’s cheek right as an out of breath Han Jisung comes running to the scene. But, you’re too busy to pay him any mind.

Of course, like you expected, Chunae flies to the ground. Immediately cupping her face and letting out a brief cry. And, just like that, you’re the bad guy. You sigh and roll your eyes. Shaking off your hand, which aches slightly from the impact on her defined cheekbone. You turn to Christopher and Jisung. Jisung stands there, staring between you and Chunae, who lay on the ground, holding her black and blue face. Christopher just gawks at you.

“What the fuck, (Y/N)?!” Jisung yells.

“Hey, before you overreact, I can explain…”

But, you’re quickly cut off when you feel a yank at your ankle, and you let out a yelp as you get yanked down. Your body yanked down, and the top of your head slams against the table you were sitting out, letting out a loud thunk through the air. And, you can briefly see Jisung trying to run up, but Christopher holds him back briefly.

Your hand flies up to your head, dizziness overtaking you as your mind falls blank for a second. Your head begins to throb, and you hiss through your teeth. However, you’re not gifted with enough time to get over the pain like Chunae did before she towers over you. Her high heels are kicked off, and she presses the ball of her foot into your chest, forbidding airway.

You’re a little too dizzy to think, but you’re conscious enough to react. Your hand flies up on instinct, your hands gripping her ankle and twisting it with your hands, causing her to fall. Before she could have time to get back up, you climb back on top of her and straddle her stomach.

She kicked and struggled, but your hands gripped her wrists (all too familiar with this position with the help of Jisung), pinning them to the ground. Your head aches, throbbing painfully. You’re still dizzy, trying to stay conscious from both the lack of sleep and from your head hitting the table.

“Hey! Hey, calm down. Just, oh fuck, my head. Oh, my god, Chunae, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You grumble as you squeeze your eyes shut, as if that would ease the pain. But, it doesn’t.

Jisung and Christopher eventually come over. Jisung’s arms wrap around you, just below your breasts as he pulls you off. You don’t struggle, but Chunae does. Christopher struggles pulling Chunae away, who still tries to pummel you.

She got a good hit on you. But it wasn’t really her. She just yanked your ankle, which threw your head against the table. You melted into Jisung’s arms, and he helped you to your feet carefully. Every movement made your headache worse. It blistered your head, sending shots of pain through your body. You tried your best to stay conscious, but it was a bit more difficult than one might seem. So, you focused on the way Jisung’s hands held you to try and keep you awake.

You faintly heard a teacher running over, asking about what the hell was going on. Jisung excused him, saying that there was a fight but it’s been handled and he’s taking you to the nurse’s office. So, the professor let you and Chunae go without much argument (probably not wanting to deal with something like this in the middle of the day.

But, Jisung didn’t take you to the nurse’s office. Christopher did, though, dragging a struggling Chunae away to the nurse’s office with no help. Jisung whispered incoherent words to you as one of his hands gripped your waist, the other holding your hand as you stumbled on your own two feet. Your vision blurred and your stomach erupted in pain. You had a concussion, all because Chunae as able to swipe at your ankle.

You were in too much pain to think clearly, hanging onto Jisung, “Ji… my head hurts so fuckin’ bad.” Your words are muffled by the lump in your throat that grew from the pain.

“I know, baby. She got you pretty good, didn’t she,” Jisung’s soft words seem to calm your head a bit, but it goes away the moment your foot plants on the ground to take another step, “It’s alright… I’m sure she wasn’t in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Shut up,” you grumble out, and Jisung sighs softly, squeezing your waist briefly as he walks you through a pair of doors and down a hall.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). Let’s not talk about Chunae right now. Let’s just get you to rest for a bit,” Jisung reassured, and you thanked whatever god is out there that he’ll shut up about Chunae.

“Where’re we goin’?” You look around, squinting through your blurred vision, as if that’d help (news flash; it didn’t).

“Back to my dorm,” Jisung answers, and you turn to him, “Jeongin isn’t back, yet, so don’t worry. Besides, we have better shit than the nurse will give you. She’ll just give you an ice pack and tell you to move on with your day, now won't she?” You think about it for a moment, although nothing goes through your mind. But, you agree with him and nod slowly.

The rest of the walk is silent. Sometimes, you’d nearly trip over your own feet, but with Jisung’s hand on your waist, he always caught you and whispered words of reassurance that never truly got all the way through your brain. Eventually though, you both made it to Jisung’s dorm. He unlocked it with one hand easily and threw the white door open. Not bothering to flick on the light before he walked in, kicking the door closed, and sat you on his bed.

Once you sat down, you felt like you’d been holding the world on your shoulders. You got a bit of relief since you weren’t moving around as much, but it still hurt like a bitch. Your head throbbed, everywhere. Your body twitched in pain. You couldn’t think straight nor could you see especially clearly, and you felt like you were about to throw up all of the coffee and tea you’d had this morning.

Jisung shuffled through one of his drawers before pulling out a first aid kit. He took his chair from his desk and rolled it in front of you, sitting on it and placing the first aid kit in his lap before opening it. “Dad always said to keep it handy. Turns out it’s finally coming to good use. I just need to see if there’s a wound on your head.”

And, so, without struggle, you lay forward, your head resting on Jisung’s knee as he gently moved your hair to the sides, looking for something. He did end up finding a bruise on the top of your head and said that it would be best to leave it alone for the time being before icing it. He gave you a few pills of over the counter medication to help ease the pain. But, he seemed a bit conflicted. It was mostly silent, you didn’t really talk since you didn’t have the strength to nor the will to. Chunae might be pretty weak, but with a blow to your head on the table like that… that’ll fuck you up real good.

Once you’re laying against his pillows, Jisung finally pipes up again.

“Come here.”

“Hmm?” You look up, and Jisung’s legs are spread slightly, one hand on his thigh as he looked over to you. His hair shadowing his eyes slightly.

“I said come here, now don’t be stubborn,” He motions you over with his hand, and you groan and squeeze your eye shut as you sit up and slide off of the bed and walk up to him. Jisung guides you around and slowly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist tightly.

“Jisung?” You mumble softly.

“Shh… This is going to help you with the pain, baby,” Jisung whispers against your ear, and you feel his press a gentle kiss to the back of your ear. You breathe in sharply, somewhat knowing where this is going as Jisung’s hand grips at your shirt. “It’ll make your head feel so much better, baby. I’ll make you feel good, alright?”

“Mm… how would that help?” You sighed out, your head already leaning onto Jisung’s shoulder, your eyes closing in relaxation as Jisung’s hands caressed your stomach, nearing both your breasts and your womanhood, but not daring to go near just yet.

“It’ll make all your muscles relax. It’ll make you feel better,” Jisung whispers into your ear, making you shiver, “Don’t you want that? You want me to touch you, babygirl?”

You can’t think straight. All morality and logic is thrown out your mental window, so you nod quickly without thinking. One your hands swiping up to caress Jisung’s neck as he pressed a few light kisses to your ear. “Alright, (Y/N). My sweet baby. Just relax for me, alright?” The praise makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you nearly forget that he’s only your friend. Your legs spread slightly, your back pressing to his chest. Letting him hold your weight. “That’s my good girl. My perfect (Y/N).”

His. His perfect (Y/N). Those words made you happy, oh so happy. Even if a thought couldn’t bear to finish in your head, you still enjoyed such words. It’s a break from the name calling and the dirty talk. It made you feel like the only girl in the world. Like Chunae was never a part of the picture to begin with.

Jisung’s hands slowly unbutton your jeans, his lips still pressing kisses to the side of your neck and your ear. Occasionally whispering short sentences like, “Good girl… That’s right… Oh, baby…” It makes you squirm in his grasp as he undoes your jeans and pushes them off of you. You weakly lift up your hips to help him a little bit as Jisung lets your pants fall to the ground with a low thud. You press your ass against Jisung, your leg spreading a bit more at the feeling of the cold air of the dorm meeting your clothed womanhood, which got wetter by the second.

You let your head lift, resting your head against Jisung’s cheek to let it rest, but you wanted to watch his hands as they softly caressed your thighs. Sending calming chills through your legs and your gut as his warm hands touched your thighs and hips ever so intimately. You melted into his touch, your lips parting to allow your low breaths to become audible. You could feel Jisung’s breath against your ear and your neck, and your neck craned slightly to feel more of it.

“You’re so beautiful, (Y/N), you know that?” Jisung’s low, sudden voice sent butterflies exploding in your stomach. You whimpered softly in response, not knowing how to respond to such praise, since Jisung was quite the degrader. He’d usually call you all sorts of dirty things. He’s probably taking pity on you since you’re hurt, but it doesn’t matter. It still makes you feel so happy and so turned on. “My beautiful baby…” Jisung whispers, seemingly to himself as his fingers brush over your clothed cunt.

“Jisunggie… don’t talk nonsense,” you utter out, sharply gasping when you feel the base of his fingers press against your clothed labia.

“What nonsense?” Jisung chuckles deeply, his fingers rubbing slowly circles, making your eyes close in bliss and your head rest against Jisung’s shoulder, your hands gripping the arms of the desk chair as Jisung’s other hand squeezes your inner thigh. “Don’t say that it’s nonsense. You’re only lying to yourself.”

You didn’t respond, basking in the pleasure and praise as Jisung’s experienced fingers rubbed along your clothes labia. Soaking your panties through with your juices (yet another pair of perfectly good underwear ruined by Jisung), the outline of your pussy showing through and letting Jisung touch even more sensitive areas.

He goes for a while without actually touching your bare womanhood. Mainly his index and middle finger rubbing and massaging your labia and over your pussy. Jisung’s eyes focused on his hands as he worked them over you. You feel yourself relax, the pain easing from you. You forget about the headache, the dizziness. The nausea and the aching throughout your body; forgotten. All that’s on your mind is how intimately Jisung touches you. How his experienced hands move over your sensitive pussy in such a delicate, yet firm way. So gentle, yet so emphatic.

So loving, yet so bitterly resistant.

Your mind grows blank. Too caught up in the relaxing pleasure and from overcoming your concussion to think straightly. All that keeps your mind wandering is Jisung and Jisung alone. Not Christopher. Not the man, Jeongguk, that you met at the coffee shop. Not even Chunae. Only Han Jisung.

After long minutes of slowly teasing your cunt, soaking your panties with your wetness, Jisung finally bids you one good deed and taps your hip. Guiding you to raise it as he slips them off slowly. Letting them fall down your legs and onto the floor below. You step out of them. Your bottom half now completely exposed, yet you still wear all that’s on your torso. You didn’t care, though. It was better than being fully clothed, anyways.

“Oh, fuck…” Jisung breaths out in a rugged manner as his fingers slowly brush over the lips of your pussy, your sweet wetness seeping from you, already coating Jisung’s fingertips, “You’re so wet for me, baby. So wet for me. It makes me want to fuck you so hard. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You frantically nod against Jisung’s head, watching as his fingers push against your labia and against your core. Firmly pressing against your clit, and your back arches as you grind your hips on his fingers. “But, I won’t. Not yet, anyways. I’m going to make you feel better, not make you scream and give you a headache all over again.”

Jisung chuckles deeply, as if what he just said was nothing more than a joke, but you didn't laugh along. He doesn’t seem to care, though, since you’re obviously so immersed in the way Jisung’s fingers rub your pussy gently. His lips part slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck as his middle finger teases your entrance.

“Jisung, ahh~... Yes, please, just like that…” you whisper out in sharp breaths as Jisung slowly inserts his middle finger into you. Pumping slowly until his knuckles are pressed against your heat. “Fuck, yes… Love your fingers so much, Jisung - ah.”

“I know, baby,” Jisung tenses below you at your words, and his finger slightly curves inside you, making your leg twitch. But, his hand that caressed your thigh gripped your leg, keeping you steady on his lap. “I don’t usually get to finger you like this, do I? Letting my hands do all the work, hmm?”

No, he didn’t. But damn, you wanted him to more often. You didn’t answer, only with a delicate moan as Jisung’s middle finger slowly pumps itself in and out of you. Curving slightly every time it thrusted into you to hit that special spot. Sending chills through your torso as his finger worked inside you so well. Your walls clench around him, despite how he was going slow. It wasn’t painfully slow, but not enough to make you cum quick enough. It’s a slow burn. Slowly building up your sensitivity as his palm pressed against your clit.

“You take my fingers so well, (Y/N) - ah… You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?” Jisung comments, his voice low, yet gentle. Soft to the ear, and not as aggressive and dark as it tended to be during sex. It sent you on an overdrive. It drove you crazy by just his tone of voice. It made your heart ache and your pussy wetter and wetter. “You don’t know how hard this is for me, baby…”

Oh, you knew. You can feel his hard dick pressing against your ass. The only thing keeping you two apart was his few articles of clothing. But, no matter what he was wearing, you could still feel how he ached underneath you. You mentally applauded him, but you were too lost in the lust to actually bid him something of a congratulations for being able to hold back this long (since he was usually pretty desperate to get his dick inside you).

It’s another minute or so until Jisung pushes in another finger. Slowly stretching you out and making you moan even louder. The way his fingers curled ever so slightly inside you, hitting that special spot over and over again drove you insane. His fingers pressing against it firmly with the tips of it. Your mind hazed with lust and desire, and your craving for him grew even bigger and even more intense.

“Shit, Jisung - ah… That feels so good ~,” you moan out as you meet with Jisung’s knuckles, grinding into his fingers.

“Hmm… does it, baby? You feel good?” You nod slowly to his words, and Jisung breathily chuckles, smiling, “See? I said it would help.”

“I don’t care about that…'' you sigh out softly, although it wasn’t entirely the truth and you were thankful that Jisung’s suggestion was able to subside your headache. “I want you to fuck me dumb, Jisung. I want to think about nothing but you.”

Jisung’s fingers stay inside you, his hand pressed against your throbbing pussy as he looks at your face. You already looked so fucked out. So desperate, your eyes craving and needy. “Are you sure?”

You slowly nod, turning your head and pressing a kiss to his lips briefly. It wasn’t too sloppy, but your tongue brushed over his lips, “Yes, Jisung… I want you to make me your bitch…”

“Oh, sweet, sweet (Y/N)...” Jisung chuckles darkly, his hand pulling itself from your pussy, making you twitch and gasp loudly as his wet hand flies up to grip your cheeks. Pushing your head back slightly as his fingers press into your jaw, holding your head in place as you clenched around nothing. Your pussy craves both release and Jisung ever so badly.

“You were my bitch since the beginning,” Jisung’s voice grows familiarly dark, and you try to clamp your legs shut from the chills that run through your womanhood. But, Jisung’s hand yanks your legs apart. “Keep your legs spread for me. I’m going to fuck you until you’re begging for me to stop.”

You let out a breathy moan, and, at first, you thought Jisung was going to pull you into a kiss. But, he didn’t. He chose a rougher path. He quickly pushes you off of him. Standing up and pushing you face first onto the bed. The back of his hand pushing your face down into the sheets, the other guiding your hips up slowly. Spreading your legs for him. Such a dirty position, your dripping pussy on display for no one other than Han Jisung.

But, he doesn’t spend much time staring at your pussy. Instead, his hands grip your wrists, and he grinds his clothed, hard cock against your wet pussy. He let out a breathy moan, leaning over your so he was next to your ear as he whispered, “You see how hard you make me, (Y/N)? You see you fucking riled up you make me? Makes me want to fuck this pussy all damn day. Have you sit on my cock all fucking day, huh?”

You moan out in response, your hair spread as your hoodie fell down. Your bra is slightly exposed, and Jisung pulls himself up. Basically ripping off your bra and tossing it to the side. Not even bothering with the hoodie itself as he tore down his jeans.

You couldn’t watch him, so you knew he was fully exposed when you heard the snap and fall of his boxers. It’s almost an instant when his throbbing head comes out and presses against your pussy. Your lips fall wide open as Jisung rubs his cock over your soaking pussy.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so wet for me,” Jisung moans out lowly, “So ready for my cock, like always. So desperate for me. So needy for me cock, aren’t you? Already so fucked out and I haven’t even put my dick inside you yet. Such a slutty girl…”

You moan out, your back arching, presenting yourself more to him, “Jisung! Jisung, please just fuck me…! I need it so bad, please…So bad…” You breath out rapidly, clutching the sheets.

Jisung lets out a shaky breath in response to your begging, “Since you asked so nicely…”

And, like an instant, Jisung was inside you. His hips pressed against your ass, his hands guiding your hips back to meet with his. You let out loud strings of moans and groans of Jisung’s name and incoherent words as Jisung fucks himself into you, raw. His dick throbs inside your wet walls. You clench around him desperately, your back falling limp as you succumb to the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, (Y/N), you do so well in this po-position, don’t you?” Jisung breathes out raggedly, and you moan loudly in response. Jisung’s hands harshly gripping your hips and waist to have you meet back with his harsh, aggressive thrusts. His cock burns your hot walls, burning in such a blissfully good way, it makes your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Ji-Jisunggie -ah… It’s so… so good - oh, fuck! Just like that, please, just like that!” You scream out as Jisung props up one of his legs, allowing him to have a better angle to thrust even faster and harder. Ramming his rock hard dick into you with passion. Jisung’s hands trail around your waist and ass once you’ve started to bounce back, meeting with his thrusts on your own.

His hands knead your ass. Spreading your cheeks before firmly pressing them. One of his hands, however, reaches up. Slowly crawling up your back, and his hips stagger a bit as his hands grip a handful of your hair. First, his hand merely presses against your head. But, at some point, he yanks you head back. Forcing you up from the bed, and you use your weak arms as support as Jisung’s hand yanks at your hair. You stare at the wall, but you don’t focus on it. You can’t. Your eyes keep rolling back or crossing, mixing beautifully with your loud moans.

Jisung uses the grip on your hair to give him a steadier rhythm as he thrusted into you. His hips slapping against your ass, making it bounce with every thrust. The sounds of skin slapping, your loud moaning and Jisung’s groans and occasional dirty talk filled the room as Jisung pressed wet kisses to your neck. Suckling on the back of your neck especially, and you moan from the feeling of his tongue being flushed against your sweating skin.

It was so much, his cock, the pulling of your hair and his tongue on your neck. Your mind falls blank, thinking of nothing other than Jisung’s cock. Some drool dribbles down the side of your chin as your eyes water from the pleasure. You can’t say anything more, not even being able to form Jisung’s name correctly. You’re so fucked out, so beautifully fucked out.

Jisung definitely noticed it, too, since it gave him the courage to start biting your sensitive skin. It was more sensitive in some places, and you immediately knew that he left hickeys. He bite them gently, yet firmly before running his tongue over the markings.

Your pussy clenched around him dangerously tight. So tightly, it makes Jisung let out a low, broken moan and makes his hips stagger and twitch as he presses himself deep into you. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you, babygirl? You gonna cum for me like the good little slut you are? Cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum for me,” Jisung groans out loudly, pressing your head against the sheets again, muffling your loud moans as you feel your climax nearing.

Your knees buckle as your legs twitch and tense dangerously tightly as you feel yourself cum hard. Jisung slows down slightly, riding you out on your high. Your loud moans turn into high pitched ones as your back spasms from the intensity of it.

Right after you cum, Jisung quickly pulls out of you before shooting ropes of white cum onto your ass. You breathe heavily, trying your best to catch your breath as you listen to Jisung moan loudly once he cums, too. Your pussy clenches around nothing, and you feel your entire body relax. All your muscles calm. Exhaustion washes over you like a tidal wave.

And you’re out like a light.

Jisung was a bit concerned as to why you fell asleep so easily. But, he didn’t argue. He gently cleaned you both up while you slept and changed you into a pair of his clothes after he realized you wouldn’t wake up even if he blew an air horn in your ear. He laid you in his bed, as comfortably as he could make you. He wiped the sweat off of your face and watched your sleeping face for a few minutes before he moved back to his desk, grabbing his laptop from his backpack and opening it. Opening work for his classes, since he’ll be absent for the rest of the day.

You slept exceptionally soundly, and he was thankful for that.

Jeongin actually came back that night, too. At first, he didn’t see you sleeping in Jisung’s bed, but once Jisung motioned for him to be quiet, Jeongin looked over to his bed to see locks of (H/C) hair poking out of the blanket. He wondered why you were here, and Jisung naturally just said that you had gotten into a fight and injured yourself and he was taking you in to take care of you. Jeongin didn’t argue much and minded his own business for the rest of the day.

However, Jisung intended to sleep next to you. But, he couldn’t bring himself to. The guilt piling inside him prevented him from doing so.

[spencersmagic]

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

**

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

**

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

**

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :) 

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x​ @spencerreid-mgg​​ @eoupe​ @inlovewithbabygirl​ @galaxydefenderjulia​ @username2002​

[thexanwillshine]

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

[kkyujikoo]

These are my... 2...? Maybe 50, cents about the whole "freejk" thing. I'm gonna be extremely petty and at some points a whole lot sarcastic and it's gonna be long but I had to say it. As soon as I get my computer I'm gonna make it under read more, but the app does whatever it wants, as we know.

Listen, this ain't my first fan rodeo, and not even the first fan rodeo where I've been directly or indirectly accused of being some sort of pervert or delulu. I've been in fandom spaces since I was a teen, I was shipping mlm couples when queerbaiting in TV shows was still something that was seen as the norm rather than some cheap disgusting trick. I was there when fanfic spaces saw "slash" fics as something "different" and to be tagged with a more mature rating even when they just looked at each other.

I was in BBC's Sherlock's fandom and I shipped Johnlock during the hiatus between S3 and S4, at this point I'm not even feeling it when people call me delulu or a weirdo.

So, yeah, take this with a grain of salt: as a person who has seen thousands of times fandom drama unfolding and has lived too much of it... This whole situation is so ridiculous it makes me laugh. Like, yeah, it's maddening how people will blame anyone and everyone because they don't even see their own bias and homophobia, granted, but like... It also makes me laugh for the sheer dumbassery of the reasoning behind it all?

Like... Y'all are getting mad and for what? Because it sure as hell isn't the invasion of privacy, since y'all are watching the same content we're all watching and you're paying to see it the same way everyone else is. If you don't want to "invade their privacy", you should just... Stop watching content that isn't their music videos, RUN episodes or interviews. Memories and any kind of dvd/video that shows what they're doing behind the scenes shouldn't be part of their job as musicians, and therefore we're intruding in their privacy... Or aren't we?

Or maybe it's more nuanced than that: maybe the content they release on dvd/on their official channels is part of their job as entertainers, and it's been approved, and it's a small window THEY are granting us.

You know what's the REAL invasion of privacy and what REALLY invalidates someone autonomy? When you, who maybe aren't even paying to see that content (which is something I understand, like, dude, I'm not covered in money either), DEMAND what kind of behind the scenes content you want when I swear ABSOLUTELY NO ONE has asked you. Once again: you don't like it? You think it's some huge invasion of privacy? Don't buy it. Don't interact with it. Convince your friends to do the same. For all I care, just go and petition to boycott this kind of content. I know you won't do it, because... That's the thing, isn't it? It's not the invasion of privacy that bothers these people.

Y'all aren't mad because we get into their business or else you would have gotten real mad when we were privy to REAL private moments like people crying their hearts out.

No, no. Y'all are mad because it's "shipping content" and "fanservice" which apparently bothers you because it lacks authenticity.

Pick a side, lovelies: either you DON'T want to invade their privacy, and thus all the content they release should be focused on what fans want to see, or you WANT to know how they interact TRULY in private.

And here's the catch: "shipping content" can be anything. Shipping existed WAAAAAYYY before the word for it was invented, same way with fanfictions. Shipping means, literally, "seeing two (or more) people interact and thinking they would make a good romantic pair". That's it. That's quite literally it. Everything else is just some nuance of the concept of shipping, but at its core, it's nearly impossible to ban all shipping content when it's a group of seven people, because they should for real go in social distancing mode to do so. Most people who have parasocial relationships tend to have "ships" whether they know it or not, because we've all, at least once, looked at a dynamic from the outside and thought "oh man they look cute together". So, even if, o dear ones, your wishes were granted... What the hell do you mean by "shipping" content? Should they just film solo clips, avoiding talking about the other members? But wouldn't that be fanservice, since it's focused on pleasing the fans? (Which, ultimately, is what fanservice MEANS, and I hate to break it to y'all but the whole concept behind entertainment and thus all the content BTS releases it's... For the fans. Like, they're not going out of their way to just meet our expectations but they're certainly doing fanservice by the mere act of releasing bonus content.)

But it's not even quite that, is it? Because no one bats an eye if it's Tae kissing Nj's cheek. I've seen no hashtag against everyone - and I mean literally every one of them - wolf whistling at Nj. It's okay to show intimacy... Because they're bandmates and it's okay to be close to someone who you see basically 24/7, I hear you. And it's also okay when people see that and gush over that closeness, because it's such a nice thing to see.

Soooooo... We've got to free JK from whom exactly? From what?

Are y'all mad cause people pointed out there's very little way a bruise that stayed for a whole ass night could be a quick bite? Because that doesn't harm jk, at most makes fun of him and jimin and their poor excuses (seriously, guys, next time consider using mosquitoes or "I was doing stuff". It'll be equally embarrassing but at least the meme will be funny), and it's literally... A fair observation. Like. It's a hickey, people are gonna make jokes about seeing a hickey and poor excuses of covering it up in the exact same way they're gonna make jokes over jimin falling out of chairs. And yeah, a hickey is AT LEAST something that happens in a sensual context. Like, I could understand "people who are extremely familiar with each other will have different body language/touch in areas where usually you wouldn't see friends touching each other", but that's not. Not a hand on the thigh. It's a hickey on the neck. I don't even know a more stereotypical placing for a hickey. But once again, are y'all mad because someone is pointing it out? Because that's not being delulu or even being a shipper, really, it's just commenting on something that was approved to be shown and discussed in something that was released BY THEM.

Are y'all mad at hybe for showing something that literally fell onto their hands? Cause like, unless someone (I'm counting on Jimin, since as we know Jungkook was busy spinning him round and round and had both his hands busy) called at hybe headquarters to say "yo bang pd substitute, is it okay if I give my friend jk here a hickey? Cause he's being really annoying rn and he has to pay", I highly doubt anyone expected Jungkook to come to rehearsal all neatly marked up. Or idk, maybe someone at hybe asked them "we need Jungkook to come in with a hickey but refuse to say it's a hickey, so that fans will feel reeeeally served." That sounds perfectly plausible too. Or a good marketing strategy.

Now, if you're a big company and your objective is to have some footage of the rehearsals for a concert, and the fandom is too good at noticing stuff for their own good, and one of your artists comes in with a very visible mark, and he and his bff bropal4lyfe come n with a story about how they were playing and a bite happened, you've got three choices: 1. Cut the artist out of aaaaalll the footage. Someone would have noticed the "bite mark" anyway, you best believe that. If you don't want anyone to notice it, you gotta cut him in most of the footage where it's visible. 2. Keep the hickey, discard the explanations. You could do that, but also it would feel a lot more unfaithful to everyone involved. Also they clearly worked their ass off to invent an explanation, come on! They truly tried to do their best inventing something that was not "it's a mosquito bite", they should get some credit! 3. Keep the bite, keep the explanation.

Notice how none of these solutions include the biting never happening because... They couldn't prevent it? The only thing they have any control over is how they're framing each "accident". And that's not an easy job.

I applaud you, people on the editing team.

So... On whom should we cast the blame now? Ah, yes, I think it's finally time for the ultimate scapegoat of this fandom: Jimin. Which is funny, cause... You know... If this were really about privacy, or being "victims" of shipping... This should be about freeing him too, you know? But obviously Jimin does it for attention, while Jungkook, poor angel that he is, doesn't even know what shipping is.

Furthermore, don't we all know how much Jimin imposes himself in Jungkook's life? To the point where he, multimillionaire man feels compelled to share a car with Jimin even if they're both late in the process. And can't you see how uncomfortable he is, draping himself over Jimin, making Jimin drap himself over him?

Oh lordy, truly such an awful eight years Jungkook spent, choosing to have vacations with someone who made him uncomfortable, spending free time with him, even having to suck his ear in public to the point you can see his saliva just because Jimin was sad :( truly an all-around bad time for Jungkook, as evidenced by alllll those times when he said Jimin was pretty, cute, and all-around knowing every little thing about Jimin. I absolutely concur, the dude would be so much more happy if jimin was not in his life.

Did that sound weird and absolutely ridiculous and a really absurd joke? Because that's what y'all sound like to me. Like. Jungkook is out there living his best life, getting hickeys and showered in affection and y'all paint him as a fucking martyr??? I'm sure he's really truly desperate that Jimin holds him in such high regards 😭😭😭 I can see him suffering whenever he starts doing his own serendipity rendition 😭😭 and when he claimed you are me, I am you as his and Jimin's only 😭😭😭 I cannot believe this poor baby 😭😭😭

I've reached a point where every time I hear this stuff I laugh because the levels of twisting reality when it comes to jikook are extraordinary, Jungkook will have a literally blissed out face and people will cry in outrage.

But coming back to my point: let's pretend you're not mad at Jimin and the possibility that jikook are dating: are y'all mad... At the hickey? Because at this point it seems like the only feasible solution. And if you are, do not worry: I'm sure Jungkook's skin was throughly healed by his boo. A kiss soothes even the worst pain, doesn't it?

[mebbrrr]

cc indirect from the perspective of a bitch who dropped the fandom a While Ago and hates like 80% of the creators on the server

1. youre cool. ur New To Big Fame but i think ur quite neat and actually seem rlly nice. rock on. also u actually bring something new to that shitass story and its nice to see from the sidelines

2. same with the above u seem Cool i just Dont know As Much abt you. ur cool

3. i literally do not have feelings about you. like your humor is just Loud and it works sometimes but like Yknow.

4. um. twitter is on ur ass rn. for good reasons it seems like

5. you are the only mf. ur cool in my book u should get more attention

6. i literally dont know a thing about you

7. i still watch ur youtube content u kinda rock. we are like when autism unites except u might be neurotypical Idk

8. also know nothing abt u but ur character had a cool premise at least

9. Hardly Know Anything about you but youre good in my books purely by the fact that you know Nothing at all. that sits right with me. ur on thin ice tho (but everyone on this list is)

10. um. i have ur merch i guess but imma be real i am likely going to sell it LMAO

11. idk u

12. i also dont know u

13. ur tweets remind me of my grandmother’s facebook presence

14. imma be real i do not like u king. ur like #25 in terms of Dark Humor El Oh El and that doesnt vibe with me and i also just. couldnt sit down for ur streams i am being 100% honest its just Something abt ur voice

15. u r kind of boring i will not lie. i like ur laugh tho

16. ur gay i guess

17. it’d be cool if u would actually apologize for some of the stuff u’ve done. like im of the belief that u actually learned from it but actually acknowledging it would be sicknasty. please acknowledge it. the ice is so thin that you literally have 1 foot in the water. also i fucking hate the character you play its so badly written

18. i literally have no thoughts on you. you showed up for the first time when i first started watching and i Still do not have thoughts on you

19. ur twitter stans are annoying. like ur ok i Guess (friend-disown that other mf and we’re GOOD) but your vibe is just slightly Wrong

20. u actually did apologize for the shit u did. idk how to feel abt u tho even tho i actually do find you funny

21. u deserved better both from fans and from those bitches on the server who Never listened to u

22. i still vibe with you. ur like a capybara to me i could never hate you. thank u for actually calling ppl out on their bullshit

23. U ALSO DESERVED BETTER. thank u for apologizing for ur ignorance. but also u deserved better king i wish the other jackasses on the server listened to u

24. ur fucked up Lol i thought u were Cool for a bit just bc Most People Did but u have recently gotten urself into hot water and its.. deserved bc wtf. u fucked up For Sure

25. i cant see the appeal. any bit of humor from u Solely comes from ur voice. u are like if john mulaney made a career on being even whiter than he is. also u literally buy (SOMETHING HEEHEEHOOHOHO) which is still fucked up even if u frame it as a joke LMAO

26. i mean ur fine i guess. thin ice bc ur white. ur (HOBBY OF SOME SORT) does rock tho

27. YOU ALSO CALL PPL OUT ON THEIR SHIT. ur better than most of these bitches

28. i cannot get over past comments u’ve made. not only did they make me deeply uncomfortable, but they hurt some of my friends and acquaintances and that will always carry with me

29. imma be real i. could never get into ur content. ur funny with other people but just.. not on ur own, to me

30. you are white bread

31. i did like ur content. like a lot. but i feel like you crossed over that line of whats okay to joke about Too Much and now i cant vibe with u. hope u learn from it i guess bc i still Do have some sort of hope for u

32. i dont trust any man with that hobby and that name

33. u deserved better. except when you decided to partake in buying (SOMETHING. LOL) wish ur friends were less white

34. i wish you’d get acting lessons bc you were one of the few genuinely interesting characters

35. U R THE ONLY MF FROM THIS SMALLER GROUP THAT I CAN STAND. AND THAT DOESNT EVEN PUT U ON GOOD TERMS IN MY BRAIN

36. ppl somehow forget u in the conversation of (some discourse dont worry) even tho ur one of the main parties involved. i just dont rlly like you purely based on vibes, otherwise

37. the last time i read ur name is the first time ill be at peace