#and shaming them won’t change them. it’ll just make them miserable

[lilac-set]

I’m bored, let’s cast some rent lowering gunshots

Fiction is fiction / don’t like don’t read

Needing a trigger warning for something doesn’t mean I think that thing is intrinsically harmful

Anti harassment (about anything)

Radically anti thoughtcrime

All identities are good faith identities

Pro para and transid/atypical dysphoria (anti abuse)

Men deserve love because they’re people, and don’t have an innate proclivity to violence

Animals are people

Pro cluster b

Pro factitious disorder

Anti science

All doctors are bastards

More info

[blindmagdalena]

If A-Train was able to get a redemption arc, I don’t see why Homie couldn’t get one (I know he won’t). It’s just so annoying to me when people say Homie is irredeemable. I mean of all the villains of the show, he actually has a reason to be one based on what Vought did to him as a child and then as an adult. Like duh. What did they think would happen?? A-Train on the other hand, didn’t really have a reason to be a villain. He grew up with a loving family. He just turned out to be an asshole but gets a redemption arc. I just really want justice for Homie but it’ll never happen in canon. Thank goodness for fanfic and all the wonderful work you do!!!

so, i feel like there's a fundamental misunderstanding of the redemption arc here. the real reason Homelander is "irredeemable" is because he doesn't seek redemption. he has neither the moral capacity nor the desire.

redemption arcs aren't about who has the saddest backstory or who's more "justified" in their villainy. they're about people who feel genuine remorse for their actions and make the choice to do better. to atone.

Homelander doesn't believe he's in the wrong. he fully believes that he is justified in everything he does, and everyone he hurts. unless that CORE truth of his character changes, no, he cannot have a redemption arc.

A-Train, on the other end, is a perfect example of a well-executed redemption arc. he was absolutely NOT an asshole for no reason. sure, he wasn't raised in a lab, but his life was still FULL of abuse and exploitation. from the moment he was born, his parents pumped him full of an experimental drug. his father died when he was still a baby, and his mother worked two jobs while his young brother raised him. kids can't raise kids. his situation was tragic. i mean, for god's sake, his powers developed when he was a three year old (!!!!!!!!!!) because he was running away from the bullets of a deadly shooting towards his home.

so from the age of three, he became the breadwinner for his family. he was trained and likely performed in all kinds of ways. there's no way he didn't with how poor his family was. once he was old enough, he got picked up into Vought's programming and continued to endure god knows what kind of abuse from them. we know for a FACT that every child star of Vought ends up miserable and ruined in some way from the shit they're put through.

remember why he fell in love with Popclaw? "Here's someone who isn't afraid to be happy."

that's heartbreaking. he worked his ass off his entire life and didn't even know how to be happy because of it. even when he went to GodU, Brink commented that he was "the most driven kid he trained." because he had no choice! he was the one supporting his family out of poverty.

i'm not saying A-Train is perfect. i'm not even saying he wasn't an asshole. he was! but to claim he had no reason to turn out the way he did isn't fair. he did a lot of shitty things, he turned to drugs when his powers started to fail him, and he accidentally killed a woman because he was blitzed out of his mind on V... doing a drug run for Homelander. he's then forced by Homelander to kill the woman he loves. he did a cowardly, vile thing, and he has expressed nothing but anguish over it ever since.

but like... in the grand scheme of things, was he really that bad? he spirals and struggles. he gets mocked, he tries desperately to find his identity. the fact his brother shames him for not being connected to a community he was unplugged from because he was shunted into fame and exploitation at a young age sucks.

Reggie, that sweet little boy, was failed in every conceivable way and he became a dysfunctional adult that did shitty stuff because of it. now he's gained perspective and he's working to make different choices. i've been hugely invested in his arc because it's GOOD character work.

so while i appreciate and agree with the sentiment and wanting better for Homelander, redemption comes to those who seek it. so far, we have not seen any indication Homelander ever will. maybe he'll pull a Darth Vader moment at the eleventh hour for Ryan's sake, who knows!

either way, on his own merit, A-Train deserves the chance to be and do better.

[deceitful-darlings]

The idea of Stepdad!Diavolo forming an obsession with his Innocent/Naive!Step-daughter just does something to me. I feel like he has a major corruption kink that is aided tremendously by how good he is at manipulating others. He takes his time grooming and molding you into his sweet little pet that thinks nothing of his behavior. The more time he spends with you, the more he’s tempted to kill off your mother so he can marry you, his true love. Surely you’ll be a great queen and give him many heirs.

I’m assuming we mean Obey Me! Diavolo! If not I’m sorry I got it wrong!

His marriage had been a political one, much like all royalty. Rather than the more headstrong sister the family were pushing for him to take, he had instead married the sister who was looked down on in the family, she had already married and divorced and had a child and had done so young. He’s still a sympathetic demon, and the politics of the marriage only meant he had to marry someone of the family, so it didn’t matter that the other sister was offended. So the wedding was held, and he had a wife and a princess in as his family.

He’s a busy man as King, so when he returns to his family he desires warmth and comfort, but he soon finds his new wife is fearful, jaded by the treatment of her family, she’s a weak queen and hard work to try and comfort, but just as she is a weak queen she is a weak woman, so grateful for him removing her from her family that she would quietly just accept his demands with a miserable face.

Instead, his eyes turn to her daughter, the now princess. Unlike her mother, she is bright and cheerful, clearly having been shielded by your mother from the disgusting acts and words of your family, she doesn’t question what’s asked of her, simply doing as she’s told with a smile on her face and a gaze searching for his approval when she’s done. She’s trusting, almost too trusting, so there’s no way he’s going to let the courts near her, there’s no telling what they could get his innocent princess to do to try and destabilise her position, and her blows off any suggestions for her to get married to strengthen the powers of the imperial family with a cold glare. She’s just too sweet to let go. The thought of her mother compared to her makes his blood boil when he thinks that marriage could turn you into her, he won’t let that happen. If anyone is going to change that innocent expression into something more understanding, more seductive, more greedy, it’ll be him.

You’ll be so used to his behaviour in the end, he pushes things further with you every time with a smile and an explanation that he’s just bonding with you, the odd touch on the shoulder becomes an arm around your shoulder, then your waist, which change into caresses. Kisses on the forehead move to the cheek, then the shoulders, then your neck. While your mother is still alive he can’t take you as his Queen as he wishes too, but it won’t be long until his kisses can move to your lips and caresses can move under your clothes. Unlike your mother, you accept them with a smile as if nothing is wrong, as he has taught you, and you’ll be far more willing to provide him with more heirs. Assassination attempts are common after all, it would be a shame if he changed the guard rotation for your mother wouldn’t it?

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 2

“Since when do we buy each other sextoys?”

> genre : light angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 5k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity; chaotic oc; clueless koo

previous - next

It all starts with the first box and the vague memory of a warm touch on your face.

When you wake up that morning, groggy from exhaustion and the sensation of having spent the night waking up, again and again, you sense something. You struggle to point out if you’ve dreamt or if it really happened, but there’s the lingering of a warm hand's trace, cupping your cheek, soothing the stress lines on your forehead, and softly brushing your hair back from your face. You can’t tell if it’s happened but it left a lovely sensation both on your skin and heart. 

You get up and out of bed, slowly stroll to your living room with a lazy hand raising to your head, meaning to scratch at the snake nest you expect to be sitting on it. Instead, your fingers are met with a rather neat braid you definitely didn’t go to sleep with as you were too fucking done with this day to even try and deal with your tight bun -the very bun that elongated your time to fall asleep by at least a good half an hour. The same fingers that caressed your face took care of your hair and you know exactly to whom they belong. 

Of course, giddiness ensues and the mildly serious feeling of mortification -you despise the idea of not knowing in what state he found you, in what state of ugly, of dishevelled, of smelly. There’s no room for embarrassment in this friendship, not this kind anyway, fortunately or not, he’s seen you at your worst (at a time when you didn’t care much if he did or not) so it counters, always a bit, the shame.

He hasn't left your side yet, has he? And he’s exposing himself to this face of yours, so why should you feel bad about it? He sneaks into your apartment at night just to brush your face and bring the covers up to your chin, tuck you nicely in as if he’s your mom or something, so why should you care. He doesn’t seem to mind. He never seems to mind. He’s the best of friends. The best of all the people you know and the best of your friends. 

And of course, naturally fitting this role, you’d find the morning of Christmas, a mysterious box you’ve never seen before sitting on your coffee table. 

The girls, your friends, have presents for you, you know they do, but yesterday you were working and couldn’t see them, therefore, the little celebration was reported and you didn’t expect, you wouldn’t expect them to come at night or early in the morning to bring you your gifts. It can wait (so they decided). 

But Jungkook is sweet like no one else is. 

And he came to wish you a merry Christmas even if you were too tired to wish him back and he left a present for you. 

There’s not a name attached to it but it’s obvious it comes from him. There’s just a post-it he stole from your desk, with a Merry Christmas written on it, the lines of the letters, round and neat, you’d recognize from any other lettering and a bunny with teeth as big as the eyes smiling at you, drawn next to it. 

The box is so pretty, you feel an actual pressure thinking about opening it, as if there is a certain way, a proper way, to go about it. 

And apparently, there is. You go wash your face and rinse your mouth, prepare yourself one of your good teas, tear the curtain wide open and slowly, almost ceremoniously, take a seat on the ground, right in front of it.

The box is neat. You don’t know what’s inside, probably a perfume or some kit for the bath you’d assume, but you already know that whatever is inside, even if it’s not of your liking -which is impossible, it comes from Jungkook-, will be balanced out by the appearance of this perfectly elegant, tasteful box that you’ll use again to stock anything, maybe your face masks, maybe nothing -it’ll just sit, looking good on a shelf. 

It’s a pastel blue, with a black rose drawn on top of it, the icon to a brand you absolutely don’t recognize. With fingers trembling with excitement you drag the box to yourself, it’s mildly heavy, for some reasons, it gives you a little rush of anxiety. There’s just a tiny black ribbon holding the box firmly closed. A tiny pull on it and it slips open. 

Slowly you lift the lid, a grin already plastered on your face, hurting your cheeks. You expect a blinding magical light to come out of it, with the sound of bells ringing near your ears and sense to suddenly knock into you as you’d understand what wondrous present is in front of you.

But none of it comes. There's just a thing hidden inside a black satin bag.

It’s not a perfume nor a bath kit and you’re confused.

A bit scared.

Honestly, maybe a little shameful part of you has guessed it. But the louder yet weaker rest of you can’t see it. It would be too... ludicrous. And wouldn’t make sense, would it? You’ve never actually seen any in real life so how would you know what the packaging would look like and how would you come to this conclusion now? And how, why, how would he, Jeon Jungkook, come about to offer you this?

Doesn’t make any sense. 

But somehow, when you pick up the courage to open the little bag and drag the object out of it, you hardly even gasp in surprise when you discover a dildo. You just let it drop to the table, thumping loudly the fake wood. 

Why did you guess it to be that and why did he get you this shit?

Scorching red seize your face and your whole being.

You are infuriated.

How dares he? You are mortified.  How dares he?

What does this fucking mean? 

A joke?

Is it a joke?

If it a joke then what’s the fucking point? It’s not fucking funny. It’s weird as hell and you can’t believe he came in the middle of the night, pretending to be Santa to leave you a fucking kidding present as if your miserable life needed that. 

And if it’s not then what the actual fuck? Does he think you’re that desperate? Does he have really no notion of boundaries?

Conveniently your phone lays centimetres away from the offending thing, you don’t even need to get up to grab it and therefore, you start looking furiously for his name in your recent call list. After only two rings as if he was just expecting your call, his bright hello reaches your ear. 

“What the actual fuck, Jeon?” He must hear the madness in your voice, both the anger and the hysteria. There’s a pause during which he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a sound and you even check your screen to make sure he hasn’t hung up on you. 

“That’s- not- the reaction I expected.” He sounds sheepish. Mumbled words, lisped syllables, long pauses. 

“What did you expect?” You yell a bit, you can just picture him, dragging the phone out of earshot and winding, the same way you do when your mom who doesn’t get the concept of telephone screams in it each time she calls you. The realization hits you, that in your quiet little apartment, in this (for once) quiet morning, you are screeching like a banshee. You quiet down instantly, some of the anger soothed down by embarrassment. “Are you insane?” You whisper in his ear and comically, he starts whispering too, with the same alterations to his usually bright and open tone. 

“M’not. I just- you said that’s what you wanted so I got it for you.”

Now he’s making stuff up and blaming this insanity on you and that serves to raise a bit more the bar of anger -along with the loudness of your voice, “When have I ever said that I wanted a-“ You choke on your own saliva once your brain realizes that you’re supposed to say the word, out loud, to him. In an angry whisper, as if someone, your mother, for example, could be listening “fucking dildo!” You blush furiously at that and it’s ridiculous. Probably the reason why you didn’t own one in the first place and maybe shouldn’t yet. Because you’re a grown-ass woman of a quarter of a century, living alone and admittedly independent and responsible for your own existence, but you can’t even say the word “dildo” out loud to this asshole of a friend who apparently, and that’s new news, doesn’t have an issue talking about sex and everything related to it with you. 

“Y-you said-“ There’s a pregnant pause. You can’t know for sure since you’re not seeing him if he’s faking it or not but he sounds confused as hell. Like he genuinely doesn’t understand what’s wrong. Moron. “You said you wanted sex but not a boyfriend so I thought- it’s pretty much- it’s exactly what it is. Why are you so mad?”

The question in itself serves to drag you a little further over the edge. So much so, it clogs your brain with anguish and leaves you unable to give him an answer.

When he’s starting to talk again, maybe ask again his question, you just hung up, slamming your phone down on the carpet. 

You hear it vibrate to life twice before it shuts down completely. Good. At least he knows you well enough, still, to assume rightfully so that you won’t pick up his calls anymore. Not today.

You just have the time to pack the dildo back in its bag and inside its box, throw away your tea that tastes unbearably bitter and maniacally scrub your face in an attempt to get rid of the red patches that don’t want to fucking leave before the telling high beeps of your front door’s digital lock alert you. Your face is soaking in cold water, another attempt to cool it, your face and your troubled mind.

You mean to ignore him. Dipping your head further in the filled up sink, closing your eyes tight shut hoping somehow it’ll help you push aside the calls of your name better.

For a few seconds, it works. You can’t hear him anymore. You wonder if the furious pleas you were chanting in your head could have been loud enough to make the sound of the door slamming behind him as he would have left, completely quiet.

He’s such a try-hard. You hung up on him because he’s saying batshit crazy things and his first reflex is to barge in your house again. You really need to change your lock and not tell him. You can do that. You’re an adult and you have the right to your own fucking place. It’s not a fucking benevolent stay in, for fuck's sake. 

The cold water really seems to work. You feel better, light-headed, coming down after the earlier hysteria. And knowing that he’s left and won’t pursue this mess any further, for now, surely helps a lot. 

Except it doesn’t last for, as soon as your face leaves the water, your hands reaching clumsily for a towel that falls magically in them, one wipe at your eyes and your worst nightmare is standing right in front of you. 

“Fucking- Jungkook!” Burying your face back in the towel, drying your face as much as possible, maybe even trying for a second to suffocate yourself, you wish vainly that when you’ll take it off he would have disappeared.

He is still here though. Watching with dark eyes and a straight severe line replacing the cute button he owns for a mouth, he looks awfully serious for a guy that’s never really serious. Your towel ends up centimetres away from his face, he catches it right before it touches him. You hoped it would blind and confuse him momentarily, long enough for you to escape but of course, this guy would never miss a shot, even a surprise one. 

“Why are you like this?” He asks when you try and push him from the ribs, out of the door frame. You hate that you think about it. About his chest being so hard and warm and his fucking smell of sweat that you’d recognize amongst any others (pretty easily as any other makes you gag and this one, probably because you’re a primary animal guided by hormones, leaves you dizzy and wanting). He doesn’t budge until he decides to, mercilessly stepping aside to let you through. Because you’re an idiot, you don’t think and head for the living room and it’s only once you’re there, very aware of his steps following you, that the devilish object of your discord is right fucking there, obnoxiously sitting on the middle of your coffee table. You groan and squeeze your eyes tight.

What meditation technique, an extra effective one, could you use right now before you definitely lose it and throw yourself out the window?

Before you find one, you end up clinging to the opposite wall, forehead pressed to it, back to him, in a vain attempt to suppress yourself from the situation. You might look a little insane or at best, somehow on edge, but who cares at this point?

“Jungkook, if I don’t pick up your call, do you think I want to see your face?” 

“But why though?” His tone is still harsher than usual. You notice it and you notice you don’t hate it either. What a little bitch you are. If you like his usual self, with the bright smile, soft words, boisterous laugh, dainty manners, you can’t deny that this rougher version of him, genuinely pissed off as you’ve never seen him, tickles your fancy. You’re fucked. “Seriously these days you- you’re such-“

“I’m what?” You bark, swirling on your feet, expression distorted by an offence he hasn’t even made yet. You completed the sentence he’s never finished with terrible words that you’ve never heard him use talking about anyone: bitch, hysterical, cunt. 

“You’re trying to pick a fight with me all the fucking time, I don’t get it!”

Now you feel terrible. You’re still bothered by the raw edges of his tone, it’s literally sending electric shocks to your lower tummy. But his eyebrows have dropped and his fiery dark eyes have turned shiny and sad, your heart hurts in your bosom.

Ugh.

You’re such a bitch. 

“I’m sorry. I know I’m insufferable. I’m on my period. Sorry.” You send a mental apology to womanhood. You're just an idiot lacking imagination. 

Jungkook frowns, his eyebrows dancing in all kind of ways, before they settle for an, unfortunately for you, attractive finale, one straight down, one tilt up. He stares at you, dubious. 

“For three weeks. You’ve been on your period for three weeks.”

The first thing you take notes of is the fact that he dated it way shorter than you would have. Honestly, you found yourself becoming a weirdo with inappropriate feelings that reindeer you into an asshole for at least a month and a half. Before that, it was extremely tamed, totally under control. You’d just notice his handsome face and cute smiles and nice smell, thinking “oh yeah that’s right. He’s kinda attractive. How funny I never really noticed.” And slowly it progressed to not being able to handle him touching you without having something close to a panic attack.

The second thing you note is that he doesn’t believe you. His stare is insistent, turns a bit dark as he lingers, studying your own eyes with judgment in his. He’s frowning even more, looks down at the floor and sighs so deep, heartbreakingly so. He looks hurt that you’re lying and don’t want to share what's really been up with you. If only you could be a better liar. 

“It happens sometimes, all women are diff-“ 

He just sat down on your sofa, eyes fixed on the blue box. Before you can finish your sentence, he sends you a glare that awfully looks like a threat. You shut up. He doesn’t believe you anyway. He knows you and your periods (sort of) way too well. He knows you’re in pain the first day, you’re a bit tender on the following ones and he takes it upon himself to be gentler and not try to play WWE with you on those but you don’t turn into a mean dragon. This much he knows for sure. 

There’s something he’s seeking for within the box. He’s grabbed it, holds it now in between his fingertips, piercing virtual holes into it. It’s probably the answer he didn’t find in your eyes. 

It makes you flush furiously. Seeing his pretty hands with his long fingers touching it. Here’s the reason, he would have caught it on your cheeks if he wasn’t so busy looking for it elsewhere. 

“I really thought that- you’d like it.” He sounds so saddened. You’re caught off guard. Again. So this present wasn’t meant to be a joke. It is a genuine one. It makes sense that he’s hurt then. You’re shitting all over his gift but how could you not? How could he believe that you could just accept that for a random gift? Slowly he makes the top of the box slide up, pout sucked in in concentration, dimple out. Your heart seems to stop at that. He’s not going to take it out, is he?

He can’t take it in his hands.

You’ll die if he takes it in his hands. 

Fortunately, he just opens the box, looks at the satin bag, looks at it with a pained expression as if he feels bad for the thing, then closes it back. 

“The woman at the shop said that it’s one of the best ones, for starters.” He sulks like a child. Bottom lip all plumped out, shiny eyes under curved eyebrows.

Jungkook looks up at you, ultimate sad puppy look on.

“She said the size and the texture were perfect if you’ve never used one before. It wouldn’t be too... what was that again?” He asks aloud as if you’d know. And you’re mortified. On behalf of him. The concept that he’s not embarrassed right now and that he went to an actual shop, browsed through the shelves and asked an actual saleswoman for help is absolutely insane. Unbelievable if it were not for the sincerity he’s dipped in. “And I picked blue because I know you like this colour. It matches your planner, doesn’t it?” He adds as if he’s not sure when obviously he knows.

It is surprisingly very close in shade. And so what? He expected you to love it so much, take fucking aesthetic pictures with it and your planner sitting on your fake marble desktop, next to Diego the succulent? What an idiot. And for how fucking long did he talk to that woman?

Silence hangs heavy between you. You watch as he scowls some more, mumbles under his breath while staring with despair at the box.

Slowly, resolute to be the better friend you have not successfully been these past weeks (months), you leave your protecting wall. Taking a seat on the carpet, on the opposite side of the table, you do your best to ignore the blue patch invading the bottom of your vision and try to give him the softest expression you can come up with at this moment. 

“Why are you so butthurt?”

His curiously perfect round eyes raise in a swift motion, pouty lips agape in a silent little gasp. 

“Sorry.” You apologize before he even gets to respond because, maybe, you could try harder to be good and nice to him. 

“Because it’s a present.” He starts at a very slow pace. He pauses between words like he’s addressing a dim, dim brain. And he might be honestly. But he’s one to talk. How can he not see an issue? “That I’ve looked for and bought for you. That’s why I’m butthurt, what do you mean?” 

“But- since when are we buying each other-“ You need to grow up. There’s no one else but him hearing you and since your last conversation about it, when he too was embarrassed, he’s able to say it just fine apparently. Still, you whisper the following, “sex toys?”

“Since you turned twenty-five and said you were interested in it.” His right-hand raises from the box to start flapping the air and you know it means bad news. He’s upset. When he needs his hands to further accompany his speech, it means he’s a bit too taken by the conversation. And in this case, you don’t feel like it’s a good idea for him to be. “When you were fourteen and into Legos, I bought you a set of Legos.”

Hardly makes sense. 

“You’re just going to pretend it’s a random present?”

“It’s not random. I put thought into it.” His eyes are digging up intensively in your own. It might be desperation that leads you to remain still, allow him to look. Hopefully, he won’t dig deep enough to find stuff he shouldn’t. “Why do you hate it? I thought- I don’t know- you’re a- flourished single woman and-“

Flourished? Really? The words don’t come out of your mouth but he reads them on your face and an adorable smile cracks open the mask of gravity.

“Jungkook.” You owe him an effort. Maybe you should look into why it requires an act of inhuman courage for you to admit your shame. It might be because if he were anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by the present for five seconds because clearly, you’re still half of a fucking child but soon enough, you’d probably be enchanted by the thing. Who doesn’t need a good sex toy? You definitely do. You thought about getting one for a long while but never got to it for some reasons and here’s one offered to you (in a very pretty shade of baby blue).

The thing is you don’t think about anyone sexually except for him (and his friend Jimin, once in a while, just by curiosity because the guy is a very sexual being). If you don’t even consider them in this light, you don’t have to think about them using it, do you? But he’s all you think about, unfortunately. And you’re friends. And it feels like one step closer to your fantasy while simultaneously one step closer to betrayal. And he certainly is not offering you this wishing for you to keep close in mind the fact that this is his. His present. He knows about it. Maybe can think of you using it and liking it without any further implications. Because obviously, it’s not like that for him. “It's awkward. How can you not see that.”

“Is it? What is?”

“First of all, we don’t- we- don’t even talk about... it. And suddenly you’re buying me- this?”

“Yeah, I realized that too!” It’s too much enthusiasm. Eyes too big and hands not leaving the air. You can already guess his next sentence. It’s probably going to be a terrible suggestion. “I talk about sex all the time with the guys,” Your eyebrows jump to your hairline at that. You’re not even that surprised but the formulation could probably be fixed. “and you talk about it with your girls, right? But we’ve known each other the longest and we never talk about it. Isn’t it fucked up?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’-”

“Well, I would. I am.”

“Don’t you- don’t you see that you’re a boy and coincidentally you can easily talk about it with the guys who happen to be boys and I am a girl, right? And I-“ Who would have thought? It took you fifteen years to finally be giving him the beginning of the talk about the birds and the bees. You would have given it to him sooner if you’d have known how far behind he’s been. 

“But what if I need girl advice-“

“I’m sure Jimin knows a whole lot about girls, Jeon.”

“From a girl point of view. Real girl advice.”

“Jungkook-“

“If I ask what the G spot exactly feels like, what-“

“Jungkook!” 

He’s amused, the fucker. He’s not as clueless as he sounds. But the crooked grin on his face is too telling. He might just be messing with you. Usually, when he’s just playing he wouldn’t insist so much, he wouldn’t take the conversation this far so surely, there are some genuine intentions. However, he's still having way too much fun.

With his frowned nose, and squinting shiny orbs and stupid bunny teeth. 

“You’re just embarrassed, aren’t you?” You might have terribly loud red streaks painting your cheeks that you try naively to cover with your hands. He can see it all and silently, he nods his head, looking like he’s reached the final touch of his experiment. “How? What happened to the teenage girl who spent her nights writing dirty stories about Harry Styles?”

Horror.

How the fuck-

“How the fuck do you know about that?”

“You showed me!” He defends, hands high above in the air like a soccer player claiming innocence. “You did! You don’t remember?” No, you don’t. But you can tell he’s not lying. Apparently, young you was quite the fearless bitch.

What happened indeed? 

Years happened. A growing sense of self-preservation along with them. Undesired feelings for an idiot with a bunny smile. An inappropriate sense of shame along with those. 

“Anyway. So it’s a bribe for girl advice?” You ask, chin pointing to the box. Jungkook looks down on it, drums his fingertips lightly on the top before he looks up, beaming. 

“Sort of.” Shrugging, he adds with a shifty eye that telltales a certain vulnerable sincerity. “I just wish for us to be able to share everything. Be comfortable like before.”

“Before what?” He stares for a long time, mouth shut. He then blinks the moment away and for the first time, you might believe ever, Jungkook looks like he might have a secret too. 

“Just before. Back in the days, I mean.” He simply explains. His attention is back on the stupid box. He’s staring at the rose on top of it. Fingers playing with the corner of it. 

“Back in your old days.”

“You’re older than me. So you really don’t want it?” Here he comes again with the sad puppy face. Why would it be breaking his dumb little heart to refuse a dildo from him? What kind of insane parallel universe is this? “Is it like a 'men are fine but little Jeon Jungkookie still has cooties so I can’t accept his present, it’s gross'?” 

“Something like that.”

“Oh.” Defeated, he sighs. Another one of those soul-harming sighs. “Fine. I’ll get it refunded and you’ll buy yourself something else with the money then.” 

Is he really going to make you do that?

As if the question is even to be raised. He can make you do anything. 

“No, Guk, sorry. It’s fine. Sorry.” You start, hands clasping over the box you drag your side of the table. The only way you can do it is if you don’t actively think about what’s inside. “I’ll keep it. Sorry.”

“So you kind of want it?” He is grinning from one ear to the other. You can feel him giddy and excited, kind of jumpy on his seat and really, you don’t see any difference with the excitement he portrays each time he gets you any kind of presents and you tell him that you like it. 

“I won’t use it.” It’s almost a threat. Eyes squinted in severe slits, index finger millimetres away from poking his eye. “It’s a gift so I won’t make you get a refund, that’s rude but- I won’t use it.” After a second of seemingly deep reflection, he breaks out in his loud, annoying boyish laughter. Eyes watery at the corners and hands clapping like a stupid seal. “I’m serious!”

“Sure.” He’s still cackling, the idiot. “But you should. The lady said it’s a best seller too.” 

“Great. I don’t care.” 

He has his eyebrows high, a twitch in his wide grin, and the amused black orbs. He doesn’t believe you one bit. “Course, you don’t.”

The idea that he sincerely expects you to use it might drive your delusional brain for a loop. He just wants to be the best gift-giver, the best Santa, and wants you to make good use of whatever he's got you. But how can he not consider that you could not use something like that, to pleasure yourself, when it’s directly related to him, your best friend? It’s weird as hell. It can’t be just weird to you. 

Unfortunately, there’s no one you can come up with the question to have them agree with you. You already know what the girls will say. They’re even worse than you when it comes to Jeon Jungkook and your ambiguous (on your side solely) friendship. They’ll say the ship is sailed and start buying themselves bridesmaid matching dresses.

They don’t understand. It’s not like they’ve grown up with someone like him. Someone rather simple, authentic and kind, so much so, so much more than most people, that it turns him complicated because so different from other humans you can meet. There’s nothing to be read in between the lines with him. It’s always lovingly honest, blatant, generous.

He doesn’t mean anything else behind the gift besides a “have a good one!”. 

And you didn’t mean anything else but the truth when you said you wouldn’t use it. 

At the moment, anyway, you meant it.

A/N: hoping it makes sense and is not too raw, edited it at midnight TT; may i manifest a sugar daddy that would pay me to stay home and write fanfiction for you guys all day :). i really hope you like it, and hope also that you can handle the secondhand embarrassement because even i struggled. let me know what you think of the series so far, sending everyone reading this an infinite amount of virtual kisses and hugs, take care of yourself, love yourself and others a lot, BYEE.

tag list: @moon-asia​ @btstrasht​ @jkbangtan7​ @taehugger​ @kaepjjangiya​ @daggerbeneathmygown​ @cuteipat​  @jinsalpaca​

PLEASE ASK TO BE TAGGED IN THE COMMENT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER! TY <3

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Pendent.

Written for a very lovely, very patient anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Bokuto/Reader (Haikyuu!!).

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: F. Reader, Toxic Relationships, Co-Dependency, Mention of Injury, Threats of Violence, Victim-Blaming.

[Part Two]

You were better, when you were on your own.

It might’ve been because you were so used to being alone. You’d never been one for social circles, the idea of spending time with people you barely liked for any longer than you deemed acceptable, and with how often your parents moved, how many schools you’d been through, your relationships were bound to be short-lived, if they ever formed at all. You didn’t hate it. You should’ve, you had every reason to, but you didn’t. You were good with impermanence, superficial flare that would never have time to die out. You were good with what you were used to. You were better, when you got to work within the barriers you’d already grown fond of.

That might’ve been why Bokuto felt like such a dead weight. You’d had boyfriends before, both short-term flings and partners persistent enough to try to make it long-distance, but you couldn’t say any of them had care quite as strongly as Bokuto had, none of them had taken as much effort to keep happy as Bokuto had. He didn’t just want your affection. He needed your time, too, your loyalty, your attention, all the things you weren’t sure you wanted to give him, just yet. If you’d been a better person, you might’ve tried to give him what he wanted, attempted to think of him as a companion rather than an unending list of repetitive tasks, but you weren’t. You didn’t want to be. You just didn’t work well with Bokuto. That was the problem, really – the two of you just did belong together.

Well, that and he was fucking crazy, obviously, but you were beginning to think you might’ve been the only one who noticed.

Konoha certainly didn’t, at least. If he had, he wouldn’t be so aggressive, his arms crossed as he kept you trapped in an isolated corner of the courtyard, the school day over and most students long-since gone. He was standing too close, his chest nearly touching yours, but the rest of the team wasn’t any better, mingling around you in a loose half-circle. They didn’t want to be as straight-forward as Konoha, clearly. They didn’t want to live with the guilt. When they walked away from this, and they would walk away from this, they wanted to be able to minimize their role, mark it down as an act of necessity. They didn’t want to have to remember you, and you could only hope they wouldn’t give you a reason to remember them.

But, if this was going to be anything like the first time they confronted you, you doubted you’d get that lucky.

In his defense, Konoha was blunt. If he planned on wasting your time, he didn’t seem to want to waste any more of it than he absolutely had to. “We had a deal.”

It was your turn to cross your arms, now, to scowl. You weren’t as imposing as they were, not on your own, but you’d like to think you could’ve stood your ground. “It wasn’t a deal,” You started, slowly, keeping your tone calm. This wouldn’t be any easier if they thought you were as irrational as their captain. “You asked me for a something, and I gave it to you. I did you a favor. I don’t owe you anything, and I certainly don’t have to stand around being yelled at by the person I tried to help.”

Konoha opened his mouth again, his eyes already narrowed and his lips pulled into a sharp scowl, but another boy stepped forward before he could get anything out, his expression slightly more passive, albeit still concerned. It wasn’t an improvement. If anything, the genuine worry written across his face only made him easier to villainize. He was worried about Bokuto, not you. This was about Bokuto. Your feelings hardly warranted a passing thought.

“What Akinori’s trying to say,” Komi started, his name resurfacing from the dozens of hours you’d spent watching their drills, attending their practice matches, melting into Bokuto’s side after he guilted you into eating lunch with his team, rather than the other girls you were still trying to impress. If you’d been any more emotional, you could’ve hated him for it, loathed him by association. It was almost a shame that you weren’t. “Is that we just think you were a little hasty. I mean, I know we put you up to it, but…” He trailed off, purposefully, clearly hoping you’d be nice enough to cut him off. Again, it was a shame that you weren’t, and Komi went on with a sigh. “We just think the two of you made a good pair. There’s no reason to go and ruin that just because he found out.”

Your head felt fuzzy. You wanted to sit down. It was a difficult sort of discomfort, disorienting and instantaneous, but you didn’t let yourself linger on it. If you did that, you’d have to explain yourself, make your argument more sympathetic than logical. You’d have to tell them about the arguments, the way he’d kissed you, the bruises on your arm that still hadn’t faded despite your dutiful avoidance. You’d have to admit there were bruises at all, and…

That wasn’t going to happen. You already knew it wasn’t going to happen.

“Cut the shit.” It took you a moment to notice Konoha was talking, turned towards his teammates and away from you. A few months ago, you might’ve taken it as an insult, but that might’ve been Bokuto’s one silver lining – you got used to being pushed into the background, when he was around. Hell, even when he wasn’t, sometimes. “He won’t play. He hasn’t come to school in a week. He can barely get out of bed. The poor guy’s a fucking wreck.” There was a pause, something similar to a groan. He didn’t have to tell you it was your fault, not when you could practically hear him thinking it, whether or not his lips moved. “It’s sad. He’s fucking miserable. If you saw it, you’d know what I mean.”

“That’s not my problem.” It wasn’t. Bokuto could’ve hurt you. For a moment, he’d looked like he wanted to hurt you. That wasn’t something you’d forgive with a few tears and a little sulking. “I’m not responsible for him. I don’t want to be responsible for him, and I never have. If you need a babysitter, you’re going to have to look somewhere else.”

“It’ll only be for a few more months.” Like always, Washio was calm, composed, cutting in before Konoha could provide a decent rebuttal. “Just until graduation. He’ll probably be over it, by then, and you won’t have to worry about any of us.”

Until the next moody third-year decides he wants a pick-me-up, too.

“I’m not interested.” You let yourself scoff, look of to the side, pretend you had better places to be. You did have better places to be. Anywhere would be better than this, as long as it meant you didn’t have to think about him. As long as it meant you didn’t have to think about Bokuto ever again, you’d do just about anything. “You saw the way he acted, I couldn’t look at someone else without having to worry about whether or not he’d lose his shit. I wasn’t happy. Fuck, I was a second away from losing my shit. You can’t ask me to go back to that just so you can win at... what? Volleyball?.” You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stop. You didn’t want to talk about this. If you were going to spill your guts to anyone, it wasn’t going to be a dozen teenage boys who thought the only way to make their dear captain happy was to torture you, intentionally or otherwise. “If it’s only a few months, then the rest of you can wait it out. This isn’t my burden. It’s not my problem, and I don’t care enough to pretend it is.”

You didn’t want to hear his response. You didn’t want a part of this fight. You tried to walk away, to push past him, but Konoha only stiffened, catching you by the arm before you could take a full step. You flinched, going rigid as soon as you felt his fist wrap around your wrist, but if he noticed the way you drew back, if he heard the soft, panicked noise that slipped through your parted lips, he didn’t bother apologizing. If anything, into only seemed to inflate his ego further, to make him even more self-righteous. Like he was the caring friend, and you were the stone-cold bitch who was finally starting to see the weight of the situation. Like he was the one in the right. You couldn’t blame him, on that front. No one would be willing to go this far unless they really believed their own bullshit.

“I don’t think you understand.” He was speaking slowly, now. If he hadn’t made it obvious he was willing to hit back, you might’ve been tempted to smack him. “We’re not asking.”

Oh. Right. That changed things.

It was all you could do not to let your voice shake, as you forced yourself to spit something out. “And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

To his credit, Konoha didn’t try to make any idle threats. No, not right now, not when he was so determined to make himself the good guy. Not when it was already clear he’d convinced himself he’d do whatever he had to, as long as it was for Bokuto’s sake. “Bokuto needs this,” He said, instead, like it was all the explanation you could need. “Go back to him on your own. It’ll be easier, if you do.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you tore your eyes away from Konoha, scanning over the other athletes instead. You weren’t sure to look for, support or regret or just enough guilt to draw one or the other out, but you barely had a chance to look before your attention was drawn to a familiar face – Akaashi, standing at the edge of the group, eyes sheepishly focused on the ground. He’d been the first one you talked to, when you first transferred halfway through the year, the first person to offer to walk you home and to invite you to a game and to smile sympathetically, whenever you asked how long your ‘arrangement’ was supposed to last. You didn’t make friends, but if you did, you would’ve counted Akaashi as one. You tried not to get attached to people, but if you were any weaker, you’d be attached to Akaashi. He was a nice guy, despite the company he kept. You trusted him. Or, you would’ve liked to, at least. You could’ve, if you’d trusted yourself to.

You must’ve been staring for a second too long. By the time you thought to say something, he was already glancing up, consciously looking past you. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve thought he was embarrassed. Something near guilt, but not quite there. Empathy pulled in two different directions, but he’d already chosen one side over the other.  “I think it would be… better, if you apologized to Bokuto.” He was talking to you. That, you could be thankful for. At least he was talking to you, rather than whatever enemy the rest of his team must’ve morphed you into before deciding to go through with their little confrontation. “He loves you. You should’ve heard the way he sounded, after he found out.” He faltered, for a moment, but the display of vulnerability was short-lived. “If nothing else, he really does love you.”

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. It shouldn’t have, you were sure of that.

That didn’t mean you could stop it from hurting, though.

You didn’t believe them. You weren’t convinced. You wanted to keep going, to try to talk them down, to do anything but roll over and throw yourself into the arms of their psychopathic captain, but suddenly, your throat felt dry, and it was all you could do to stay on your feet. You felt small, smaller than you had a minute ago. You felt vulnerable, even if you knew there was nothing they could do here, on school-grounds, where any passing teacher or student could see. You didn’t want to be here, you didn’t want to do this, but as you forced yourself to notice Akaashi’s careful aversion, how tightly Konoha was holding you…

You realized you might not have a choice, either way.

[amythedvdhoarder]

Three

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word count: 4.3K

Warnings: Swearing, little bit of drinking, quite angsty and fluffy

A/N: (gif not mine) So this is my incredibly late entry to celebrate  @finleyjayne reaching 100 followers. Congrats hun you deserve it. So I picked the prompt ‘Feeling blue’ with Stucky. This is not beta read so I apologise now for any mistakes. 

xxx

Bucky let out a heavy sigh as he rolled over to face Steve in bed. Another night filled with restless sleep, the extra body in the bed missing making it impossible to sleep easily.

“What’s up? Steve grumbled still half asleep.

“You know what,” Bucky replied wistfully.

Steve stretches out lazily before turning to face Bucky and smiling sadly. “We had to let her go, give her a chance at a normal life. She couldn’t have that with is Buck.”

“Why can’t she have a normal life with us Steve? Everyone accepts us? We could have settled down, got married, had a few kids. No one would have questioned it.” Bucky knew the tiredness was stopping him from keeping a lid on his emotions.

“You know that’s not true,” Steve reached for Bucky’s hand and pulled it to his lips briefly, “nobody outside of the team knew about the three of us. It wasn’t fair on her, you agreed at the time too. We let her go before it got too far and we couldn’t. We had 6 happy months together, let’s just remember that.” Steve tugged on Bucky’s arm, encouraging him to come closer. Bucky shuffled over and rested his head against Steve’s chest.

“I know, I just miss her. I love her so fucking much it hurts.” Steve closed his eyes as he felt that familiar stab of pain that Bucky was talking about. Bucky was everything to Steve, they had been through so much together. But you. You were like the missing piece of their jigsaw puzzle they hadn’t even realised was incomplete. You fitted them perfectly, after everything they had been through they were happier than they had ever been but they noticed you becoming more distant, spending nights back at your own place, then suddenly it was all over.

xxx

You missed Steve and Bucky like hell. They had woven their way into your life and now that they weren’t in it, you felt lost. The first time you met them they had come into the coffee shop you were working in. Bucky’s fingers had grazed over yours as you handed him his takeout cup and Steve’s eyes met yours making your breath catch. You witnessed the pair of them having a quiet conversation and them both sitting down at a table despite ordering coffee to go. They spent the rest of the afternoon at the coffee shop, chatting away, their eyes searching you out and finding you already smiling at them warmly. When you were finally closing up they asked you to join them for a few minutes.

They explained to you that they were a couple but were interested in spending time with you. Surprisingly you weren’t put off by the idea but in fact excited, so you accepted their dinner invitation. Two weeks later you found yourself in their bed and after that a permanent feature in their lives. You spent most nights with them at the tower. On your days off you would explore New York together, looking like a couple and their friend just having a day out. Not that it bothered you. You understood why Steve was never affectionate with you outside of the tower, he kept his distance. He had only just started to feel comfortable being out with Bucky in public. Bucky was different though, he had spent too much of his life not being himself to hide any longer. He would tease you with small lingering touches, not so innocent looks whilst nobody was watching and whispering naughty thoughts in your ears as you peered into shop windows.

Everything had been going smoothly until Steve had gone on a mission that lasted longer than expected. Before that point you hadn’t slept with either of them without the other being there or joining in. But during this week Bucky felt himself getting more and more stressed and in need of release so he called Steve and asked if it would be ok for you and him to sleep together. Steve agreed at the time but when he got back from his mission to find you and Bucky curled up with each other on the sofa his face told a different story. Of course, you instantly panicked believing you were driving a wedge between them which was the last thing you wanted to do. After you voiced you concerns to Bucky he told you that you were being daft but Steve’s demeanour changed around you.

From that point you began to distance yourself from the both, you made excuses to avoid spending time with even though it made you miserable. In that short 6 months you had fallen insurmountably in love with them but realised it had to end. Bucky and Steve were meant for each other, you cared about them too much to come between them. And after one short, teary discussion between the three of you it was over. You made your excuses about needing the chance to have a normal life where you could be open about your relationships, have some proper stability. It was all lies of course, something to avoid having to tell them the truth and potentially cause them more pain. Neither of them fought or argued with you, they looked a little ashamed but ultimately let you go.

Truth be told you missed all of the people from the avenger’s tower; Sam and Nat had become good friends of yours. They had tried to contact you after you left but you ghosted them, unable to have any sort of connection to anyone linked to Bucky and Steve. Your life seemed quieter, mundane and as you cleaned the coffee machine up for closing time you didn’t even notice when a new customer came in.

“Y/N?” the soft voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Sam? What are you doing here?” you said moving towards the counter. “You want anything making?”

“Only if you’ll join me,” he smiled.

“I can’t. I need to close up and clean.” You could tell by the way his eyebrows raised that he wasn’t going to fall for your attempt to get rid of him.

“How about this. You lock up and I’ll help you tidy up. It’ll give us a chance to talk, I miss talking to someone who isn’t over 100 or a trained assassin.” Sam knew he had won when you burst out laughing.

“Fine, but only because I don’t want to clean up this place on my own,” you stuck your tongue out at him as you walked over to the door, clicked the lock shut and turned over the sign indicating you were now closed.  

You and Sam chatted away for the next 30 minutes talking about this and that, both delaying the inevitable topic of the two super soldiers. You handed Sam his payment of a cappuccino and you sat down in an armchair opposite him, nursing your cup of tea.

“So, you gonna ask me how they are?” Sam asks an amused tone to his voice.

“Sam, I-“ he shakes his head at you.

“I’m gonna tell you anyway. Y/N they’re not good, they really miss you even if they won’t admit it to us. Bucky is miserable, he barely laughs, makes a joke. Hell, he has even stopped teasing me. For some reason he only wears this one red t-shirt all the time, he is refusing to wash it. Like it actually smells now. And Steve. Steve is worst. His mood swings would put an adolescent teenager to shame. One minute he is snapping at everyone, breaking open punch bags and the next he weirdly calm and this look of despair just washes over him.” Sam’s eyes fixed on your face.

His words had clearly had an impact, making him feel instantly guilty. Your bottom lip wobbling, eyes full of tears threatening to spill over. He jumped up out of his seat and wrapped a comforting arm around you. At this the damn broke and you descended into sobs.

“Shit, I’m sorry Y/N,” Sam crooned softly, taking the hot tea out of your hand and placing it on the table. “Take a couple of deep breaths for me,” he instructed. Once you had finally had your breathing back under control and wiped away your tears, he finally released you and sat back down opposite you.

“I’m sorry Sam,” your voice croaky and raw from the crying. “I just miss them, I don’t feel like myself anymore. It’s like I’m hollow, does that sound crazy?”

“No, it doesn’t Y/N, I felt the same way when Riley died. The difference is they didn’t die, you could have them back in your life if that’s what you want?” he said solemnly.

“I would go back to them in a heartbeat Sam, but I just don’t think that’s what they both want,” you twisted the ring around your index finger.

“Did you not hear what I told you earlier? They’re lost without you,” Sam was thoroughly confused. His plan had been to try and talk you around to help you realise what a big mistake the three of you had made.  Nat was having a similar conversation with Steve and Bucky right now, informing them what she had found out by following you around for the last week or so since you’d left. But now Sam had a feeling that there was a bigger issue at hand.

“I heard you but they’ll learn to live without me. They love each other completely, I don’t think there is room for me in all of that.” It was the first time you had admitted the truth aloud, it stung but it felt good to have finally got the big weight off your shoulders.

“That’s the biggest pile of bullshit I have ever heard,” Sam scoffed. Your head shot up immediately, your mouth open in shock. “You can’t seriously believe that?”

You were quiet for a minute, not sure how to respond. “You don’t know them like I do,” you replied quietly.

“You’re right, in some ways I know them better. I knew them before you, they were happy but it was nowhere near what they were like when you were with them,” he folded his arms content that he had won.

“See that’s where your wrong Sam. You remember that mission that Steve went on, every little thing that could go wrong did. Well when he got home something was different, he was more guarded around me. I think it was because me and Bucky got closer whilst he was away, he didn’t want me anymore. I was getting in the way,” you reasoned.

“Y/N, I was on that mission with him. We went through absolute hell and back. I was distant from everyone for a while. Did you know he nearly died?” he looked at the way your eyes widened to find the answer to that question. “So, no then. Well he did and do you know what he said to me?” You shook your head. “I’m quoting here. ‘Tell them both I love them. Tell Bucky to look after our girl’. If you were really getting in the way, why would he say that?”

You sighed. “I don’t know. But he didn’t stop me from leaving.”

“Did you tell them the real reason why you were leaving?” Sam asked already knowing the answer.

You shook your head.

“And people call me an idiot?” he scoffed.  “Of course they let you go if that’s what they thought you wanted. You need to talk to them or at least see them and find out the truth.”

You picked up your tea and took a long gulp to avoid responding to Sam’s suggestion.

“Well whatever you decide you’re going to have to see them this weekend anyway?” he said smugly making you choke and cough as the now lukewarm liquid went down the wrong way.

“Sam what the fuck?” you managed to get out in between spluttering coughs.

“It’s my birthday party on Saturday, you promised you’d come ages ago.” He folded his arms at grinned.

“That was before,’ you stammered. “Besides, I’ve already said I’ll work another shift.”

“Liar,” he said getting to his feet. “Nat will come to yours and pick you up around 7. Think about what I’ve said Y/N. They really do miss you.”

You stood up followed him as he walked to the door. “Ok I’ll think about it. Don’t think I have much choice about Saturday, do I?”

Sam wrapped you up in a bear hug. “Nope, absolutely none.”

After you had locked up after Sam you sat back down and tried to process everything. Sam’s words played over in your head. There was no doubt that Bucky was missing you; he was wearing the shirt of his that you had slept in the last night you spent with them. It was Steve you were more sceptical about. If what Sam had really said was true then maybe Steve did care for you more than he let on. Perhaps some part of him doubted your affection and loyalty to them. There was no way to be sure except to see them. You just didn’t know if you were ready for that.

xxx

Nat showed up a whole two hours early with an array of outfits for you to pick from. She wouldn’t let you get something old and familiar out of your closet, she was determined to get you dressed up and into the party spirit. She only succeeded at one of those and by the time you both pulled up to the tower you were a complete bag of nerves.

“Will you quit fidgeting, you’re making me nervous,” Nat scolded you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled before pulling up the front of your dress. “Why a sleeveless dress Nat? They are so impractical.”

“Well -” she paused to twist the thin satin material at your hip, repositioning the perilously high thigh split, “- that may be true but I can guarantee one thing, those boys will certainly realise what they have been missing.”

You frowned at her and gave one final look over your appearance in the elevator mirror before the door pinged open into the loud and bustling party. She took your hand and led you to the bar where you were greeted by Sam who promptly handed you a drink. You knocked back the amber liquid quickly in an attempt to sooth your nerves, before anxiously scanning around the room for any sign of the two men you both longed and dreaded to see.

“Relax Y/N, they’re not here yet,” Sam leaned over and whispered in your ear. He gave you a small reassuring smile which mixed with warmth the alcohol was providing finally made you relax a little. Nat and Sam caught you up on everything that happened and the latest avenger’s gossip.

“Hey kid, we missed you. How’ve you been?” Tony walked up to you, his purple tinted glasses nearly falling of his nose as he threw his arms out to embrace you.

“Ok thanks,” you said quickly. “Great party as always Tones.”

“Well we have Mrs Stark to thank for that.” He turned to face Sam. “They’re gonna short-circuit when they find out she’s here,” Tony uttered, half amused before walking over to greet some other guests.

You rounded on Sam. “You didn’t tell them,” your voice low as you tried to control your emotions.

“Not exactly,” he shrugged. “Well guess we’re going to find out any second now,” he smirked at the entrance over your shoulder.

xxx

Bucky looked around the room, wishing at that moment that he could be anywhere else. He was walking towards the bar when he realised Steve was no longer walking next to him.

“Stevie?” he turned around searching for Steve and spotted him stood stock still, his eyes fixed on something across the room. Bucky walked back towards him and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Steve?” he said starting to get a little worried, he looked like he had seen a ghost. Bucky followed his line of sight and his eyes met yours across the crowded room. His breath caught in his throat and he could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage. He had thought of this moment every day since you had left and now that it was here he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Is she really here Buck,” Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Bucky blinked and turned to Steve. “I think so. Steve, we have to …”

“I know” Steve said as he took Bucky’s hand and squeezed it.

When the men turned back around you had disappeared from sight. You saw them frantically searching for you but you had managed to tuck yourself behind a group of shield agents. At the sight of them part of you wanted to run to them and throw your arms around them and never let them go but there was still doubts niggling away in your mind. One thing was for certain, Sam was right. Bucky did look sad and Steve. Well Steve was the one you hadn’t ever been able to get a read on before and still couldn’t now.  

“Y/N seriously, hiding from them?” Nat shook her head at you.

“Well you found me so I’m clearly not hiding am I,” you sassed.

“You certainly won’t be in a minute” she smiled deviously before standing on her tip toes and waving at the two super soldiers.

“I fucking hate you Nat,” you hissed.

“No you don’t. If you’re still planning on hiding I would move now, they’re on their way.” You stuck your middle finger up at her and then scarpered. Sure, you were going to have to face them at some point tonight but you planned on having at least another couple of drinks before that.

Mid-way through your first vodka and coke a tall red-headed man approached you and Bruce as you were chatting at the bar.

“Hi, I was wondering if you wanted a dance. Seems a shame to be hiding that dress over here at the bar,” Bruce bit back a laugh as did you at the corny line but none the less you agreed.

You let the man who introduced himself as Tom, take your hand and lead you to the dancefloor. Thankfully the song was slow so you didn’t have to worry about your dress slipping down. Tom placed his hands lightly on your waist as you held onto his shoulders, gently swaying to the music.

Midway through the song he leaned over and whispered quietly in your ear. “Do you have any idea why the winter soldier looks like he wants to kill me?”

Your grip on his shoulders tightened. “Bucky,” you corrected. “No, I have no idea,” the tone of your voice sharp. As you spun around your eyes landed on Bucky who was gripping onto the glass tumbler in his hand so tightly you were surprised it hadn’t smashed. It was often that you saw this side of him but it sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes sought out Steve who you assumed would be with Bucky but you couldn’t find him.

“Mind if I cut in?” a familiar voice spoke softly whilst still managing to carry an air of absolute authority.  

Tom stood still and turned to look up at the blonde man. “Sure thing Sir,” he stuttered, “thanks Y/N,” and with that Tom backed away and nearly ran from the dancefloor.

“That was mean,” your hands fell to your hips as you scowled at Steve. “Plus, do I not get a say in this?” His blue eyes flashed with panic briefly but then that classic Steve Rogers look of determination reappeared.

“So, what do you want Y/N?” you could sense the double meaning behind his question. “Because I know what I want Y/N,” he continued, his blue eyes boring into yours taking a step closer.

“Steve I…” you closed your eyes and bit down on your bottom lip trying to find the words you wanted to say. A calloused hand cupped your jaw and you opened your eyes as Steve traced the tender flesh of your lower lip. The sound of the party disappeared and all that remained in that moment was you and Steve. Instinctively you pressed your hand on top of Steve’s and inched yourself closer to him.

“I wish this were simpler Steve but it’s not,” you hadn’t even realised you were crying until Steve removed his hand and quickly wiped away the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“This was never going to be simple Y/N. But all I know is that I love you. These last few weeks have bit a shit show. I didn’t say it enough before but if you’ll have me then I will spend every day showing you exactly how much.”

“What about Bucky?” you asked quietly.

“What about me doll?” Bucky had walked up to the pair of you, a lop-sided grin on his face.

“You two are meant to be together. I don’t want to get in the way of that,” you looked from Bucky’s face to Steve’s.  

“You can’t seriously think that Y/N,” Steve said moving forward to try and get closer but you took a step back.

“I know that when you came back from that mission everything felt different,” your voice cracked as you tried to make Steve understand.

Steve’s face fell at your words. “I was scared Y/N. I realised on that mission how important you were. How much we needed you. When I saw you when I got back with Buck, I realised that you deserved so much more than someone who might not come home one day. You’re worth more than that. I was scared you were going to figure it out and leave. So, when you started pulling away I let you because I thought that was what you wanted, what would make you happy. Even if it meant we weren’t,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

“And you,” you rounded on Bucky, “did you think the same thing?”

“Y/N you didn’t seem happy and I thought we were to blame; doesn’t that sound familiar?” he was right of course. “All I know is it sounds as if you have been as miserable as we have. Doll, we’re not us without you. We’re a team. You, me and Stevie. We’re all yours if you’ll have us?” he shrugged.

“Maybe you need us to convince you?” Steve closed the distance between you and pressed his lips to yours with a softness you hadn’t expected. You felt yourself melt against him as his hands found the nape of your neck and held you to him, your lips moving against his as you became reacquainted.

When he finally managed to tear himself away from the sweet taste of your lips, his cheeks were flushed and his ragged breath matched your own.

“My turn,” Bucky stepped over, his hand moving to the back of your head as he crashed his lips to yours. The intensity of the kiss had both of you moaning against each other’s mouths. You wrapped your arms around him, not wanting to let go but you had to eventually.

You stood breathless looking between the two super soldiers who owned your heart, your mind made up.

“Yes,” you smiled.

Bucky was grinning like a kid of Christmas morning but Steve didn’t allow himself to celebrate to soon. “You sure about this Y/N because we won’t ever let you go again,” he said.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life,” and you meant it. You couldn’t imagine a version of your life without Bucky and Steve in it. “Now get over here,” you giggled at the look of pure joy on Steve’s face.

Steve was on you in a second, picking you up off your feet and pressing kisses all over your face. Bucky came up to the pair of you and took you out of Steve’s arms to repeat the whole process all over again before leaning over to give Steve a quick kiss.

Bucky finally slid you down his body back onto the floor and Steve cupped your cheek and was about to lean down to kiss you again until Sam interrupted.

“Um guys, as much as I am enjoying the reunion maybe you wanna, you know, take this somewhere a little less...” Sam waved his arm around at the crowd of people around you.

You hid yourself in embarrassment behind Bucky’s shoulder. “Sorry” your voice muffled by Bucky’s suit jacket, but you knew it was loud enough for them to both hear it.

Steve laced his fingers with yours and pulled you to face him. “What are you sorry for doll,” he stroked the side of your cheek with the back of his finger.

“I know you didn’t want people to know about us,” you looked down at the floor.

“I got nothing to hide doll. I love both of you and that’s all that matters,” he squeezed your hand and turned to Bucky. “Let’s get outta here.”

“Been waiting all night for you to say that Punk,” Bucky grinned.

He took your other hand and lead you and Steve out of the party. None of you caring what people may have been saying about the three of you, only caring about the fact that you were all together again, just how it was meant to be.

Taglist is open. Let me know if you want in or out 😊 (it is quite possible I missed someone 😬 just dm me)

@stargazingfangirl18 ,  @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht, @buckys-henley, @lonelyheartsm @alexa-lightwood-blog, @angrythingstarlight, @drabblewithfrannybarnes, @rogueheretic555 @rebekahdawkins @chrissquares @pumpkin-and-pine, @hereforbuckyandsteve, @drakelover78, @baddie-barnes   @its-izzys @thehumanistsdiary​

[lovee-infected]

Hi hiiiiiiii!!!! I hope you dont mind if I make a request! I was wondering what would happen if yandere Azul and Riddle who is after an affectionate darling that comes up and tries giving them hugs and kisses but because they want to keep up to their rules/professionalism they tell her not to do that so instead she goes to others for affection and avoids getting affectionate with them cause she thinks they dont like it. Thank you! And sorry for the long request !💚💚💞💞

OMG this is amazing !

You don't get it , do you ?

Daily hugs , unexpected kisses , unendingly praising him with your sweet words until he blushes so badly , is it even possible to dislike you ?

He's been watching you way before you noticed him for the first time , how cute and sweet , weren't you ? Indeed you were , and that was why he needed the rules . Rules to protect you , his beloved rose and soon to be his darling

You laughed , you smiled , you loved , you adored , but that wasn't because of him ; it was your nature to love and to be loved in return . Which alsoBut included : Being loved by others else than Riddle

No wonder why you were always caught in large groups of friends , they all loved you . The love and affection you shared brought each and every of them to appreciate and cherish you . You loved everyone and were loved back by everyone , that wasn't right . No , not to Riddle

No matter how many friends you had , you always held a way greater level for Riddle . Friends can hug or bump heads , but can they...kiss ? The red head watching , you always noticed him around , wondering if he enjoys watching you at all , his expression was unreadable . Did he like you ? Dislike you ? What could that be ?

Riddle loved it . Being cherished , appreciated , hugged , kissed and loved , things he lacked all over his life . But something held him back from enjoying it , something that could steal you away from him at any time : If you could be this nice to him , you can be the same to anyone . Anyone

And you already did , didn't you ? The love you shared with the world...this held you back from being -his- darling . You had to be his and only his , what made those fools out there worthy of you ?

He is Riddle Rosehearts , the leader of Heartslabyul , the bringer of rules and justice . He must be the symbol of perfection , shouldn't he ?

That's why you as well needed to be , he needed you to be just as collected as he was . Perfection must always be equalized by perfection , right ? That's right . You had to be just as perfect as he was

" Don't laugh that loud " " Straighten your back " " Don't over use those casual words while speaking " " What are you doing ? You think it's right to kiss me right in front of everyone else here ? "

You had a lot to learn , a lot . "It'd be such a shame for me , the son of Rosehearts' family to be in relationship with someone as low cultured as you , (y/n) " He had told you . Yes , he's got no regret on any of his words . After all it's all for you , for your perfection

Soon it came clear to you that your standards didn't meet at all , continuing this relationship would end up in nothing more than Riddle looking down to you over and over , low key giving up on you every time you get any affectionate or emotional around him , making him have to tell you to act up your age and not like a twelve year old

Riddle wanted to take away your immaturity ,for you to be his worthy queen . He was doing it all for you , to be the best , the greatest . He wanted nothing but the best of you and yet...you decide to give up on him just keep your helplessly romantic self ?

Ah so that's how you want go play , right ? Leaving Riddle on his own just to go back to your friends ? To keep on laughing like an stupid child with other idiots out there like he has never existed ? Is this what you really wanted ?

He never hated your kiss , but he hated the thought of anyone else getting to have them . Even as your friends , your family , yourself

He wanted to make sure that you won't share any of your love with a single soul else than him, and all you do is to just leave him and gave the love -he- deserved to anyone but him ? No love , this isn't how we play

You entered his life by your won will but it doesn't mean that you can leave now that you want to , not anymore

If you don't behave as Riddle took it all soft on you , then he should have to learn you otherwise

You'd better play nice , dear . Even if you no longer do it for him , you may like to do it for your friends . This is his game and you must be following the rules . Break them , and it'll be of with their heads

Laugh as he says , do as he says , be as he says . Let everyone know that he's got control over you , so he can have control over everything

His weakness , his breakable part , not many get to see that side of him , but you did , didn't you ? You see how needy he actually is under that greedy figure which made him look nothing different from a monster

He's learned enough from the past and is sick of it , he'll do anything to make sure that he won't ever be any similar to the miserable child he once used to be. Never again . And the only way to remove his past picture from the whole world's perspectives was by creating a new one , a strong one , something to forbid everyone from taking the urge to look down to him because of his childhood

That's right , power is the answer . He needs to have power everything and everyone ; including you

You've never failed to melt his heart whenever you showed up . Your smile , your eyes , your voice . He adored each and every of them . He loved all of you

He didn't try to hold his feelings back at the very first , he openly accepted all your love and appreciation with pleasure , and didn't mind thanking you in return . Didn't matter how serious he was at work , he always kept his soft spot for you , regardless of where you were or who were watching

Everything was great until the -consequences- showed up :

" Look at how he's blushing , " " Man , he acts tough all the time but is a baby around (y/n) " " What does that face say ? (y/n) KISS ME ! Hahaha-"

How dare they , how dare they insult him like this ? Hasn't he suffered enough ? Can't he just be himself in front of the person he loves...?

What are they laughing at...

It was -you- who held him back from giving those assholes what they deserved , he backed up because of you , you didn't want it

But how long , for how long would he be able to put up with the eyes peaking (?) behind the two of you ? Seeing himself judged and laughed at because of you , because of revealing his soft spot

He , who was the infamous tricker of Octavinelle is now being looked down to as your doll , as someone in control

No No No , he won't allow this . Having you around shouldn't change him this way . He is still Azul Ashengrotto , and will always be . He was born to control , not to be controlled . Even if it was with you

' Yes , perfect . Laugh as I want , do as I want , be as I want '

He can't let his guard down even if it's for you . You are his beloved one , but goals come first : " Will you do this for me , love ? " He knows that you can't say no

You stand there watching how things change in reverse : the sweet and bright (y/n) who made Azul Ashengrotto go dizzy just with one kiss is now a silent , pretty doll standing next to him

He forbids you from calling him by first name in public , so you'll have to go with sir or his full name instead which isn't really pleasant

When you come to check on him after school , you'll have to wait until he's done working , which can even take you hours , but when he's the one to ask you out , even a minute of delay is unacceptable

You aren't happy with the way your sweet relationship ended up being this toxic but he isn't hearing a word of it . He just laughs it off asks you to stop being so dramatic . Continue to argue , and he'll go feral : " It's said that the sea witch once took away a mermaid's voice , wouldn't you be a lot cuter without that harsh mouth of yours ? "

It can't be said if Azul recognizes any of his toxicity or not , but he could see the slight changes occurring into your personality , and he couldn't help it . Doesn't it make you happy to see him being all great and respected ? He's doing it for you , after all . Both of you . Stick with him and be his lovable princess/prince . That's what he wants you to be

He was hopeful off all that cheerfulness of yours to fade away , and he thought that it was working . You were longer the loud and energetic (y/n) you used to be , all he can see is a grayish shadow left from the old , rainbow colored (y/n) . You don't run late for any of your dates anymore , and wait patiently until Azul is done with working . He can't be any prouder of how good you are doing right now except one thing ; one thing that really pisses him off : You no longer treat him the way you used to , even as the two of you are all alone . No kisses , no praising , no eye contact , nothing . As if you don't see him at all

Azul informs you that you need to tell him if there's anything bothering you , but all you do is to silently nod

He knows you better than you can imagine and it's pretty obvious when you're lying , better know that he absolutely hates it . He doesn't expect you to be any honest with him so he won't care to ask -you- what might be wrong

Following you around and having eyes to watch you is no big deal for him , having twins beside him makes it even easier

But what does he come to ? How can the reality be this bitter ?...

You , your old self . Your real self . Standing right there . Putting on one of those brilliant smiles Azul had missed seeing . Laughing with that angelish voice he hadn't heard in a long while . You being the real (y/n) he'd always loved are right in front of him , chilling with your friends . The same friends who laughed Azul off when he was going through the best of his days with you , the same guys who made him regret treating you like god/goddess you were to him , the ones who made you stop loving him , wanting him , seeing him . And yet here you are...? Giving up on him for them ? Just to get the chance to be with them again ? Don't you remember the pain they brought Azul ? Don't you see the monster they forced him to be ? Don't you see that it's all their fault..?!?

No, it's not . It's not just them . You as well are guilty . It was you who got him to this point , you stole his heart and he trusted you with the deepest of his secrets . He trusted you with his weaknesses . He trusted you... thinking that you'll remain by his side till the very end .You as well left him

Breaking his heart would end up in no good , so you'd better be prepared for a great punishment . You can't just walk into his life and then , walk away when you wish , Azul is no one to be played with like this

And if you too still find him weak just by knowing how soft he can be at some point , you'd better know that he can be just as cruel . He wants you back , and he'll have you back . The severity of your punishment is up to you , whether you want it to be soft , or not

[wisherbysharlight]

My God if I could only say, I'm holding every breath for you

Description: Patton Hart has been pining for his best friend's twin brother and his boyfriends for as long as he can remember. Word Count: 3067 Ships: Patton/Remus/Janus/Virgil, background Logince, established Remus/Janus/Virgil Warnings: Remus being Remus, twins squabbling AO3 This is a gift fic for @sunshineandteddybears​ for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange​. The “summer romance” piece kinda got away from me, but this is definitely found family! I hope you enjoy!

Patton was wiping down the counters, about 15 minutes after closing, sunset shining through the windows as he hummed along to the radio, a sense of peace radiating through the store. 

Of course, that’s when chaos erupted.

“Pattycakes, you gotta save me!” Remus cried as he threw the door open so roughly the windchimes actually smacked against the window above the door before falling back down and jingling merrily to announce his presence. He ran behind the counter with no hesitation, gripping onto Patton’s waist. (Patton only shivered because of the burst of adrenaline. That was the only reason. No other possibilities. Nope.) Remus angled them both towards the doorway just as Roman came bursting in with the same amount of urgency, fire in his eyes and shirt dripping wet and seemingly tinted a particularly garish shade of greenish-brown.

“Remus, you can’t hide behind Patton forever, you bastard!” he seethed, and Logan, Janus, and Virgil came through the door behind him, much more calm, almost to the point where Patton would call them bemused. Logan took a seat at one of the small tables along the wall, pulling out his phone with a very evident intention to simply wait the whole debacle out, while Janus and Virgil both leaned up against the glass case in front of Patton. “Get out here and face me, you coward!” Roman bellowed again, clearly not giving up anytime soon.

Patton grabbed an empty paper towel roll from next to him and turned at the waist to whack Remus in the head with it, “Remus you cannot use me as a human shield, go answer for your crimes.” “Kinky. I’d much rather have you issue my punishment,” Remus joked with an eyebrow wiggle, then cackled when Patton made a strangled noise and shoved him back to the other side of the counter. However, as soon as he was in range, Roman grabbed hold of him and pulled him into a headlock and his laughter turned swiftly into a shriek of “Oh shit!”

They were 12 years old, tearing through the woods in a dual-friend-group game of manhunt the summer before 7th grade. Virgil was hot on everyone’s heels and adrenaline was coursing through their veins. Patton leapt over a log and turned a corner, hunting for a good place to hide. 

He heard a curse of “Oh shit!” echo through the woods before the sound of three branches breaking in succession, a huge crash, and a subsequent groan. He quickly pivoted and went sprinting back towards the house, and the sound, easily finding Remus splayed across the forest floor even in the dim light of the moon.

“Why would you climb a tree, silly goose? Don’t you know the branches are weak that high? Scared me half to death!” he chided as he fell to his knees beside him, already pulling band-aids out of his wallet in his pocket.

Remus grinned impishly up at him, and Patton felt his breath catch in his throat, fumbling with the wallet briefly in a way he prayed the other boy didn’t notice. “What’s a lil fear in the face of a bunch of excitement, Patty?” he crooned, and Patton shoved a handful of band-aids at him with little delicacy in his haste to move past the tease. “Besides, I have the best nurse in the world to patch me up when my fun does go south, apparently.”

Patton flushed and turned away, positive Remus could tell even in the weak light, but he couldn’t keep the earnestness out of his voice, “I’ll always patch you up, Ree. Promise.”

Remus didn’t get a chance to respond before Virgil burst through the bushes and tapped them both on the shoulder to get them out and a loud, extended debate began about the validity of the “injury time out”.

Janus leaned on the counter in front of Patton, jolting him out of his reverie. He pointed at the menu, with three shiny new additions at the bottom, “You finally manage to find a flavor sweeter than you, sugar?”

Virgil shoved him out of the way with an eye roll and a fond grin, thankfully distracting from how Patton felt his cheeks would melt the freezers. “He can’t stop flirting even for two seconds, I swear.”

Janus gasped dramatically, swooning against the counter and batting his eyes at Virgil like a starlet in an old black and white, “Maybe if you and Remus gave me the attention I deserve I wouldn’t need to hunt it down in beautiful, endearing ice cream shop owners.”

Remus snorted despite the way he was currently trying to claw his way out of his brother’s hold while being noogied like they were still teenagers and not fully grown and employed adults, “We could give you all the attention in the world, Janny, it would never stop you from flirting with Patton.”

Janus sniffed derisively at them, then cocked his head to the side as the song changed and smiled softly, “Hey, I know this song.”

Patton smiled brightly back, “Yeah of course, have it on all the playlists for the shop!”

“Simp!” Remus called over just as brightly, and Patton glared back at him, assuming it was aimed at him.

 “Ok, you look miserable,” Janus said, making Patton jump from where he was staring down at his water glass watching the liquid swirl around the glass as he moved it in little circles and maybe lamenting his singledom a little bit in the face of a dance floor full of sappy teenagers in fancy clothes enjoying the crisp June night and each other as their last hurrah before graduation.

Patton plastered on a smile, “Oh Jan, I am perfectly hap-”

Janus arched a brow at him, tsking lightly and just loud enough for Patton to hear and stop speaking. “Don’t try to lie to me, I know what you look like when you are actually happy, Patton. And also you’re a god-awful liar.”

“...yeah ok. I’m a little bit lonely, maybe, with Ro and Lo gettin their dance on for the romantic stuff. But I’m not mad, they’re in love, and I told them to go hang on their own. We’ll hang out at the beach house after!” He couldn’t help but glance at the dance floor, where Logan was leading Roman in a waltz that was perfectly on time with the music, lost in their own little world.

“Well Ree and V bailed for the beach early. Not exactly their style of music or dancing, or my vibe to make them do something they don’t enjoy just to get my feet stepped on. Why don’t we be miserable together?” The song changed, to a song with a more Latin-inspired beat that Patton knew only one of every 10 words to, and Janus smirked, “Maybe you and I can even make the most of it and I can score a salsa partner.” Janus ended his proposition with an exaggerated wink and bow, and Patton took his offered hand with a genuine grin.

Janus didn’t miss a beat, switching eye contact to Roman on a dime, “Hey, did you know Remus was the one who’s been screwing with your guitar’s tuning?”

“NONONO HE’S LYING,” Remus cried as Roman tightened his hold and doubled down on his attack, this time poking at his ribs and making Remus shriek in laughter.

As Janus watched Roman wrestle Remus down to the floor of the shop, clearly satisfied with the reaction he managed to get, Virgil nudged him over with his hip to take his place leaning across the counter and whisper conspiratorially, “I bet it was actually Logan. Bastard can get away with murder, I just know it.”

Patton couldn’t help but giggle, with Virgil’s playful smile and dancing eyes across from him, so open and trusting in a way he never was unless it was just the group of them. He smirked a bit, nibbled at his lip in consideration, then leaned in to say in an equally conspiratorial style, “Logan’s only involved to see how long it’ll be before anyone catches on. My record stands.”

“You are a trickster Patton Hart,” Virgil gasped in mock-scandal. He wagged his finger with his hand on his hip in a not-half-bad impression of Patton during a lecture, though he was unable to match his Patton-ted Disappointed Frown while he was grinning, “I’d never expect my partner in crime to be doing something like this without telling me, shame on you. You know I always have your back.”

 It was their last weekend of freedom before they started high school, and as per usual both twins had both their friends sleeping over. Patton woke before Logan and Roman, also as per usual, and snuck out of Roman’s room down to the kitchen, only to jolt as he found the light already on and Virgil sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Whatcha doin?” Virgil asked, legs kicking in the air in front of the cabinets lazily.

“Gonna try to make pancakes! I’m positive I won’t burn them this time, I just know it,” Patton enthused, then squinted suspiciously at Virgil, “What’re you doing?”

“Oh just hanging around, keeping an eye out in case anyone tries to burn the house down again so I can help out. Figured they might need a partner in arson crime, ya know, and I could let them know I’ve got their back,” Virgil teased, nudging Patton’s leg with a sock clad foot. He looked so precious with his sleep mussed hair and eyeliner from the night before smudged under his eyes that Patton couldn’t even bring himself to argue that he really didn’t need a babysitter. Honestly, he couldn’t even begin to pretend he didn’t want the excuse to spend more time with him.

 The twins’ argument grew more heated, finally managing to distract Patton from where he was a bit lost in the way Virgil’s eyes lit up when he was amused.

“You fucked up one of my favorite shirts!” Roman screeched as he attempted to give his brother a wet willy.

“You put red koolaid in my shampoo two weeks ago, you baby!” Remus cried back, shoving at his shoulder to try to get him off, and succeeding rolling them only for Roman to roll them straight back.

“I know you were the one who put my script out of order,” Roman fired back.

“You should have been off book anyway! And you broke bro code and told Virgil I was the one who deleted his X-Files off the DVR. You are just as bad as me.”

“You gave mom’s computer a porn virus and blamed it on me!” Roman protested, and everyone else seemed to simultaneously sigh as they descended into their usual back and forth of dredged-up pettiness.

“Oh you're still - you squashed my bug collection.”

“You left me stranded in the yard after Remy’s homecoming party senior year.”

“That was absolutely justified, you made me listen to you wax poetic about Logan’s fucking lips for 3 hours.”

“You made me listen to you wax poetic about Patton’s EVERYTHING for 13 YEARS”

Everyone in the shop simultaneously went silent in a blink of an eye. Virgil went white as a sheet and swung to look at the twins with wide eyes, Janus gripped the counter white-knuckled and looked at Patton with a similarly stunned expression, and Remus turned nearly as red as the sash on Roman’s favorite Prince Charming costume. He shoved Roman off of him for real, a more severe growl to his voice as he seemed to realize there was no way to play it cool, “You are such a fucking dick!”

Roman stammered for a moment, clearly trying to digest the change in tone and the weight of what he’d said, before waving his arms above his head in apparent bafflement, “It’s not like he didn’t know you all were into him!” 

“Roman,” Logan spoke up suddenly, gesturing at Patton and what Patton knew had to be a completely shell-shocked expression.

Roman looked up and went just as wide-eyed as the others, “Pat… did... did you not know?”

“...all of you?” Patton asked, then winced as his voice cracked in shock. He watched Virgil flinch and seem to retreat into his hoodie out of the corner of his eye, and Janus’ face smoothed over into a perfect mask of calm in the blink of an eye. He felt his heart break just a little bit at the disappointment in both of their eyes at what he was sure they saw as a rejection.

Logan grabbed Roman’s arm and yanked him away roughly, though Roman followed easily, “You all clearly need to communicate. I will handle this one.”

“Don’t wanna know about you handling my brother, poindexter,” Remus joked hollowly, sounding almost like it was a reflex with none of his usual cackle behind it.

Logan rolled eyes and headed out the door, tugging behind him a Roman who was fervently whispering, just barely audibly, “He didn't know, how did he not know,” to himself over and over again.

There’s silence in the shop for a while, just the sound of the radio faintly playing over the loudspeakers echoing off the walls as they all just stare at each other, not knowing how to start. Then Janus took a deep breath and spoke first, “Patton, I refuse to speak for these two clowns, but I will absolutely tell you that I, at the very least, have had feelings for you for many years, feelings which i was unaware I was not making perfectly clear, or that there was a chance of any sort of reciprocation.”

“Around 7 years for me, give or take. That first morning we made pancakes together,” Virgil added quietly, fiddling with the zipper on his sleeve.

Remus averted his gaze, looking nervous in the way Patton had only seen the day before he confessed to Virgil and Janus in high school, and admitted in the quietest voice Patton’d ever heard him use, “I don’t know exactly when, Pattycakes. You’ve always been there and as far as I’m concerned I’ve loved you just as long. And-and I just assumed it wasn’t returned.”

Patton swallowed thickly, trying to push back tears because he knew these boys and knew they would take them for disappointment rather than the joy they were. He dove at Remus first, vaulting the counter the way he always scolded Roman against and sliding to his knees next to the other man on the floor before crushing him in a hug. He flailed back at Janus and Virgil with one hand to pull them in as well, “Come here, all of you, we’ve lost so much valuable cuddle time!”

Patton was pretty sure Janus broke the sound barrier with how quickly he was plastered to his side and burying his face in his hair, and Virgil wasn’t far behind, wrapping an arm around his waist and burying his face in the crease of his neck and shoulder. Patton took that moment to be a bit daring himself and press a kiss to the corner of Remus’ lips, then giggled brightly when Remus grabbed hold of his cardigan and used it to pull him back in to kiss him full on the mouth with just as much passion and impulsiveness and laughter as Patton had always imagined. His mustache tickled Patton’s nose a bit but he leaned into it, humming happily in the back of his throat and feeling like a puzzle piece clicked into place.

Virgil only gave them a minute before he untucked his face from Patton’s neck and grouched that he wanted a turn. Remus let Patton go with a very put-upon sigh that didn’t match his playful grin, flicking Virgil on the nose lightly. “You gotta give him his kisses or he’ll never shut the fuck up,” he fake-whispered.

Patton grinned and turned readily to Virgil, and his lips met Patton’s in a much gentler dance. His kiss was no less deep or passionate for its caution, and his hands cupped his face like he feared Patton would float away if he didn’t hold tight. His fingers curled and twitched upwards like they wanted to bury themselves in his hair but didn’t want to overstep, so Patton took the initiative to grip the back of his neck and tilt his own head to encourage Virgil to do what he wished.

Janus was more patient, waiting for them to part for breath a few minutes later before taking hold of Patton’s chin from Virgil without a word and gently but firmly turning Patton towards him. Janus’ kiss could only be described as a caress, light and teasing and peppered with soft nips to his bottom lip before building up to something more solid. His warm hands rubbed calmingly up and down Patton’s spine and over his shoulders like he couldn’t figure out where he wanted to touch first.

Remus soon demanded he get another shot, then Virgil wanted another, then Janus again, leaving Patton so beyond cloud 9 he could barely think any more. They spent at least 20 minutes there on the floor, lost in each other, rotating kisses that were long overdue, letting their actions make the confessions their words hid from for years, not daring to move and break the spell of the moment.

Then a camera shutter sounded, paired with a bright flash of light that made them all jolt and look up in surprise.

“I said communicate you know, not make out on the floor,” Logan sighed, digging through his wallet to pull a 20 out to hand to Roman, who was grinning victoriously.

��I’m sorry for being a dick, but I had to do something and I told Logan the “accidental slip” would work,” Roman said as he pressed a triumphant kiss to Logan’s cheek and pocketed the 20, “But you have to admit it was a pretty great performance on my part.”

“Can’t believe I was betrayed by my best friends, I don’t know whether I owe you a scolding or a fruit basket,” Patton lamented playfully, cheeks hurting from how wide he was smiling. Janus ruined what little remained of the facade even more as he shifted slightly and pulled him into his lap and Patton clung tight to Virgil and Remus’ hands, with no intention of disconnecting any time soon.

[edenmemes]

red dead redemption 2 starters

❝ in these books life seems so simple, but in reality… i can’t make head nor tail of it. ❞  ❝ listen to me. when the times comes, you gotta run and don’t look back. ❞ ❝ i ain’t afraid of dying. ❞ ❝ i’m still standing, which is an improvement on the last time you saw me. ❞ ❝ i still think about you. that was...that was quite a time. ❞ ❝ people don’t forget. nothing gets forgiven. ❞ ❝ your father would rather you did not do anything so foolish. ❞ ❝ forgiveness, well...it’s just an easy way of saying ‘i don’t care no more’. ❞ ❝ i know you like to hide behind the angry moron act, but it’s a thin enough veneer. ❞ ❝ when somebody doesn’t lie in this world and you don’t lie to them, then together you can achieve great things and destroy great powers. ❞ ❝ i remain a fool, and i’m sure i shall die a fool, but i’m trying very hard to be something like the man you deserve. ❞ ❝ i am always honest, maybe not always good, but i'm always honest. ❞ ❝ why you got that guilty look on your face? ❞ ❝ i trust i will not make a god awful fool of myself once more-- but somehow i imagine i shall. ❞ ❝ please don’t go to any trouble on my account. ❞ ❝ you ain’t gonna die. not yet. ❞ ❝ feels like things have changed...the whole world has changed. ❞ ❝ i feel like we haven’t spoken for days. ❞ ❝ we’re thieves in a world that don’t want us no more. ❞ ❝ we can’t change what’s done. we can only move on. ❞ ❝ just do one thing or the other. don’t try to be two people at once. ❞ ❝ we’re more ghosts than people. ❞ ❝ how can romance ever be silly? it’s all we have. ❞ ❝ vengeance is an idiot’s game. ❞ ❝ i don’t think we can go much further on the horses. ❞ ❝ i'm surprised we escaped at all. ❞ ❝ you’re...i was gonna say you’re like a son/daughter to me. ❞ ❝ you’re...i was gonna say you’re like a son/daughter to me...but you’re more than that. ❞ ❝ this is a new low, even by your standards. ❞ ❝ i do my utmost to avoid you. ❞ ❝ i thought the whole point was that this had nothing to do with you? ❞ ❝ i’m sorry to complain. it’s just so... ❞ ❝ i need you now...more than ever. ❞ ❝ face me to the west so i can watch the setting sun and remember all the fine times we had that way. ❞ ❝ do you ever miss home? must be hard, being so far away. ❞ ❝ you know, we’re gonna need to come up with a better story for that scar. ❞ ❝ there’s a good man within you...but he is wrestling a giant. ❞ ❝ you saved my life. you’re a good man. ❞ ❝ there’s only one of me. i don’t intend for them to know i’m coming. ❞ ❝ i thought you were trying to make me feel better. ❞ ❝ be loyal to what matters. ❞ ❝ you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you squeal before. ❞ ❝ i'm miserable. been a tough few days. ❞ ❝ i trust your judgement. always have. ❞ ❝ i'm just gonna...have a little sit down and...feel sorry for myself. ❞ ❝ i tried. in the end. i did. ❞ ❝ one day, folk will take orders from me...and trust me, it won’t be no laughing matter. ❞ ❝ here, take a drink of this. ❞ ❝ seems like there ain’t much else in this world except bastards, victims of bastards and the bastards who want to put the bastards in the ground. ❞ ❝ we’ll get off this mountain soon enough. ❞ ❝ i haven’t slept in three days. ❞ ❝ just thought you might’ve moved on by now. ❞ ❝ thanks for coming for me. ❞ ❝ you got sad eyes...like you’ve seen sad things. ❞ ❝ you always said revenge is a luxury we can’t afford. ❞ ❝ you don’t hire a saint to catch a sinner. ❞ ❝ you’re alive! oh, you’re alive! ❞ ❝ go. now. i’ll hold them off. ❞ ❝ are you okay? i mean you no harm. ❞ ❝ i'm nobody. ❞ ❝ what about you? you doubting me too? ❞ ❝ it’s enough to make a man drink. or worse. ❞ ❝ i knew not to trust, yet i had no choice. ❞ ❝ there ain’t no more time to talk. go. ❞ ❝ thank you, for your strength. it means a lot to me. ❞ ❝ firstly, we ain’t friends. don’t make no mistake on that subject. ❞ ❝ i'm so bored i’d rather be shot. ❞ ❝ it’ll mean a lot to me...please. ❞ ❝ you’re gonna sleep with your chest open if you ain’t careful. ❞ ❝ the bond we share, it’s the most real thing to me. i would kill for it, i would happily die for it... ❞ ❝ life is full of pain. but there is also love, and beauty. ❞ ❝ my pa used to say you stare into the fire long enough you can see the whole world pass by. ❞ ❝ whenever we happen to meet, you’re always helping people and smiling. ❞ ❝ do as you’re goddamn told. and shoot well. ❞ ❝ i guess he never outgrew his anger. kind of like you. ❞ ❝ some trees flourish, others die. some cattle grow strong, others are taken by wolves. some men are born rich enough and dumb enough to enjoy their lives. ain't nothing fair. you know that. ❞ ❝ you’re driven by powerful forces i scarcely understand. ❞ ❝ oh you fool. you sad, deluded fool. torn in two by different ideas of who you were, and it turns out you weren't neither of them. ❞ ❝ well, i think you’re as slippery as an eel in an oil slick, but still a man/woman. ❞ ❝ with you watching over me, i’d walk into hell itself. ❞ ❝ lack of something to feel important about is almost the greatest tragedy a man may have. ❞ ❝ when i was your age, i fought. i saw death. i have killed. ❞ ❝ i wish things were different. but it weren’t us who changed. ❞ ❝ nobody’s taking anything from me ever again. ❞ ❝ some jobs aren’t for saving and some legacies are for pissing on. ❞ ❝ you're my favorite parasite... no, wait, ringworm's my favorite parasite, you're my second-favorite parasite... i lied. ringworm, then, rats with the plague, then you. ❞ ❝ just leave it to me. i can talk a dog off a meat wagon. ❞ ❝ forgive me if i slip and stab you in the face. ❞ ❝ this place, ain’t no such thing as civilized. it’s man so in love with greed, that he has forgotten himself and found only appetites. ❞ ❝ shut up...you know, you’re not very nice to me. ❞ ❝ the amount of hell we’ve raised, we’re owed some back. ❞ ❝ i haven’t done anything wrong aside of not playing the games to your rules. ❞ ❝ don’t let yourself get killed...for pride. i’ve seen it kill too many folk. ❞ ❝ when you fall, there’ll be a party. ❞ ❝ every day i didn’t kill you, is a day i saved your life. ❞ ❝ i can’t kill them all silently so, when they chase me, you go the other way. ❞ ❝ does this seem like a good time for sarcasm to you? ❞ ❝ usually i’m worse than the wolves. ❞ ❝ i don’t have to be careful. i have you as a friend. ❞ ❝ i wish i had acquired wisdom at less of a price. ❞ ❝ they’re chasing us hard, because we represent everything they fear. ❞ ❝ you know all that mattered to me was loyalty? it was all i ever believed in. ❞ ❝ never thought i’d say this but...it’s good to see you. ❞ ❝ we’ve all lived bad lives. we all sin...but i know you. ❞ ❝ i kill people. and maybe i should’ve killed you. ❞ ❝ ain’t you a sorry sight? ❞ ❝ your job’s starting the fights, it ain’t winning them. ❞ ❝ some big, loud mouthed bastard tried to rob me when i was out riding so i... well, you know how it is. ❞ ❝ there ain’t no shame in looking for a better world. ❞ ❝ i can hunt, carry a knife, and use a gun. ❞   ❝ ...is it too late for us? ❞ ❝ if the purpose of life was to be liked...it would be very boring indeed. ❞ ❝ i’ve been running for as long as i can remember. ❞     ❝ they turned me into a monster. ❞   ❝ i always wondered if i was unlucky...but maybe i’m just not very good. ❞ ❝ don’t kill yourself over pride. i’ve seen it kill too many folks. ❞ ❝ sorry if i seem a little desperate. i am a little desperate. ❞ ❝ if anyone gets close to me, they’re wanted too. and i can’t have you wrapped up in that. ❞ ❝ there’s all kinds of nasty people who want to speak to you. ❞ ❝ they won’t hear anything about you from me. ❞ ❝ tell me about you, darling and armed to the teeth like that. ❞ ❝ i also...found out some unsettling news about you. ❞ ❝ i don’t know how to say it...thank you. ❞ ❝ you...don’t like me much, do you? ❞ ❝ i can’t lie to you. i’m a wanted man. ❞ ❝ that’s quite a scratch you got there. ❞ ❝ take a gamble that love exists, and do a loving act. ❞ ❝ i’m seeing things a lot more clearly now. ❞ ❝ where are you? can you hear me? ❞ ❝ i think someone saw some wolves, not far away. you should watch out. ❞ ❝ guess all i got now is doubt. doubts and scars. ❞ ❝ it wasn’t me who went and shot him. ❞ ❝ will you dance with me? ❞ ❝ i like you. you’ve got a kind face. ❞ ❝ i’m not a good man. not usually. ❞ ❝ there’s a lot i should’ve done and even more i shouldn’t have done. ❞ ❝ you are a compulsive liar. ❞ ❝ next time, i’ll slit your throat myself. ❞ ❝ as long as we get paid or you get shot, i’m happy. ❞ ❝ i'm not designed for this snow. ❞ ❝ you don’t get to live a bad life and have good things happen to you. ❞ ❝ shut up you silly man and kiss me. ❞ ❝ who made you the messiah of these poor souls you’ve led so horribly astray? ❞ ❝ maybe it’s a sign. try to do the good thing. ❞ ❝ how many times do i gotta bury you? ❞ ❝ you are the only feller who could get half of their brain eaten by wolves and end up more intelligent. ❞ ❝ five thousand dollars? for me? can i turn myself in? ❞ ❝ if you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is to stop digging. ❞     ❝ we ain’t both gonna make it. ❞ ❝ i gave you all i had. i did. ❞ ❝ if we have to fight, we fight. If we have to run, we’ll run. if we must die, we’ll die. but…we’ll stay free. ❞ ❝ people call me lazy. i’m not lazy, just don’t like working. there’s a difference. ❞ ❝ i guess...i’m afraid. ❞ ❝ oh, i didn’t know i was talking to a lady. ❞ ❝ i don’t feel too good. ❞ ❝ you have finally lost your mind. ❞

[kookicat]

Consequences That He Renders

He's shaking hard enough for her to feel, fine tremors running through his hands, his arms and it's freaking her out because as a rule, Eliot Spencer isn't a man who shakes. The last time she'd seen it was after a job went majorly, horribly bad, when he'd been so battered and bruised and bloody they'd actually managed to get him to visit a hospital. It's too dark in the car to get a proper look at his face, but the streetlights offer glimpses and she'd swear on a stack of hundred dollar bills that he's pale, eyes shadowed, gaze fixed at some point miles past the glass. 

The car hits a pothole, hard, and he grunts, lip curling, one hand creeping up to cup his left shoulder. It's the one he favours first, some nagging remains of an old injury, and it makes the tension in her stomach curl a bit tighter, like a snake burrowing into the sand for the night. She's a thief; she's trained to notice the smallest detail because it can be a matter of life and death if she misses something. Another piece of the mental jigsaw she's building clicks into place when he shifts, jaw tightening as some sore spot somewhere presses against the seat. 

"Eliot," she starts, resisting the urge to poke him, to see how badly he's hurt this time in favour of leaning over a little. 

"Parker," he says, voice hoarse with exhaustion, and turns towards her. He can't quite meet her eyes. Another piece. Something bad happened. She's not great with emotions but she's learning. It's not shame on his face, but sorrow. 

"Are you okay?" She gives into the urge and presses her hand against his arm, half expecting him to move away. 

He doesn't, just blinks tiredly at her and dredges up a weak smile. "I'm fine," he says and she lets the lie slide because she knows he's not fine at all. 

"What happened, at the warehouse?" She keeps her eyes on his face, seeing a flicker of something before he shoves it down deep. 

"I did my job. Got Nate and his Italian friend out of there." As he says the words, voice flat, the smell of cordite floods his nose, thick and bitter and choking. He can feel the weight of the guns in his hands, feel the shock of the recoil burning up his wrists as he takes the next target out. As he kills the next man, the voice in the back of his head mocks. 

It had felt clear and clean in the moment, the kind of clarity only found at the right end of a gun but he's reeling, because he stepped into the kill box and didn't expect to walk back out. His life for his team's, a fair and more than even trade. He'd do it again in a heartbeat, but after the fact, he's not quite sure how he managed to survive. 

"Oh," she says, voice so small, it makes him really look at her. There's a pensive frown between her eyebrows that he longs to wipe away but his hands aren't clean and he doesn't want to stain her. She needs a distraction, and he inadvertently gives her one when the car hits another bump, forcing another soft grunt out of him. 

He's wrenched his back and bad shoulder all to hell and he's pretty sure that both knees are skinned raw from his slide. There's a low grade throb in both hands that he knows will evolve into a full on ache before too much longer. He knows guns, but he rarely uses them and he's paying the price. 

"I thought you said you were okay!" She reaches for him, and he wards her off with one arm, biting the inside of his lip when she grabs his arm right over a growing bruise. 

"I've had worse," he says, and it's true. He's pretty sure nothing is broken. He's just sore all over, abused muscles aching but it's not life threatening, just enough to make him miserable. 

Something in her eyes shifts and she blinks, hard, hand tightening a little on his arm. He expects her to speak, but she just presses her lips together and leans against him gently, staying there until the car stops.

Hardison looks up from his laptop, taking in the scene with a sweep of his eyes, and gets out, coming round to open the door. Parker slides out of the other side and Eliot realises with a jolt they're all waiting for him, even Sophie and Nate.

It's going to take him a moment to get out and he'd really rather not have an audience for the performance. 

"I'll catch up," he says and holds his hand out for the keys. 

Parker snatches them from Nate. "We'll catch up," she says, giving Hardison a meaningful glance. 

Sophie catches on and takes Nate's arm, tugging him towards the hotel entrance, casting a worried glance back at the car as she goes. 

Eliot gets a good look at his friends’ faces and chokes back a sigh. They're going nowhere at least not without an argument, and he just doesn't have the energy for it right now. He swings his legs out of the car, pausing for a moment when his back spasms, then forces himself to stand. Being upright hurts, the long muscles in his abs tight and sore, back aching. The shootout ran him through the wringer and the aftereffects are starting to kick in. 

"Come on, man," Hardison says and leans past Eliot to slam the car door. One hand lifts like he wants to offer assistance, but the older man shoots him down with a quick look. 

They flank him, Parker on one side, Hardison on the other as he limps towards the entrance, feeling the denim peel away from his knees in a way that makes him want to hurl. His shirt is sticking to his back in a similar way and he rolls his shoulders in annoyance. It sends a bolt of pain down his spine and he stops, eyes closing until it eases. 

"You're freaking me out, man," Hardison says, running his gaze over the other man, checking for blood. There's a few spots - his left shoulder is sporting a nasty blood stain, as are both of his knees, but nothing major jumps out. They've seen him hurt worse and walk it off but this time is different and Hardison just can't put his finger on why. 

Eliot starts walking again, eyes fixed on the doors, but he's distant, pensive and Hardison realises with a jolt that's the problem. There's a level of quiet they only see from the older man when he's really hurt but that doesn't tally with the visible injuries and it's ringing alarm bells in Hardison's mind. 

He glances at Parker, getting a nod in return. Something dreadful went down in that warehouse, bad enough that Eliot doesn't want to talk about it, bad enough that he's pulled back into his shell. The thought of what it could be sends a chill down Hardison's spine. Part of him wants to push, to needle a confession from the other man but a bigger part of him doesn't want to know. Their hitter had done his job and got everyone back safe and beyond that the details don't really matter. They won't judge him no matter what he did. 

There's an elevator waiting in the lobby and they shuffle into it. The mirrored walls show Eliot just how bad he looks, and he suddenly understands why his friends are so concerned. He's pasty, dirt streaked and vaguely clammy in the air conditioning. He wants a shower, a change of clothes and a time machine, so he can go way back before this whole mess started and stop Nate from throwing them at Moreau. He knows which of those he's likely to get and leans against the wall with a sigh. 

He's lucked out on this stay, managed to get a room to himself and he fishes in his pocket for the key, vaguely surprised it's still there. 

Parker and Hardison are looking at him and he licks his lips, tries to dredge up some sort of response and settles for a quick, tired smile that he knows doesn't come close to reaching his eyes. "Thanks," he says and unlocks the door, "I'm going to go clean up. See you in a few." 

He ducks inside, closing the door on them, knowing it's a shitty thing to do. He's pretty sure they'll forgive him, pretty sure they'd already figured out this wasn't a normal job and he's not in the mood for twenty questions. He pauses, slides the chain into place like it'll stall Parker for more than a couple of seconds if she decides she wants in. 

Pain runs through his fingers as he grabs a change of clothes and carries them to the bathroom, starting the shower. His clothes stink, a bitter mix of smoke and cordite and sweat and he struggles out of them, throwing them in the corner for now. The water engulfs him, washing away the physical traces of what he did and it suddenly hits him, hard enough to unlock his knees so he ends up sitting with his back to the shower wall. 

The tears are a surprise, because he thought he'd forgotten how to cry, used them all up. He pulls his knees up and rests his forehead on them, gulping in breaths when black spots swirl through his eyes. He's not weeping for the men he killed - their own choices put them in that warehouse, and none of them was an innocent - but for the man he was becoming, someone closer to the kid he searches for everyday in the mirror. They leave him aching and empty and hollow and it's going to take a while to soothe the new raw spots inside his soul. 

He's chilled from sitting in the cold tile and the water is starting to run cold so he forces himself to his feet, reaching for soap and a washcloth, scrubbing any last trace of the battle from his body. It stings in places, highlighting minor cuts and knicks he didn't know he had until the lather found them, painting a map of damage to his body. He can't quite lift his left arm high enough to wash his hair and settles for doing his best one handed. He rinses, shivering, under the now cold water and steps out, wrapping a towel around his hips, leaning towards the mirror to find out why his shoulder hurts so much. 

There's a splinter longer than his hand in the back of his shoulder. He can see it in the mirror but he just can't get the angle to dig it out. It hurts, a nasty throbbing ache that makes him want to tear his arm off and he tries again, flinching when his fingers just brush the wood. He's going to need help and stoops to find his phone in the pile of filthy clothes, sending a quick message. 

He drys himself, slipping into soft sweatpants, draping a towel carefully around his neck to catch the water trickling from his hair. Somehow he's not surprised to find Parker and Sophie are already in the bedroom when he opens the bathroom door and steps out. There's the big medical bag between them on the couch and he pauses, steeling himself because the damn thing has to come out but it's not going to be a fun process. 

"Hi," Parker says, voice just a tiny bit unsure, like she's not sure how he's going to react. 

"Hey, Parker," he says, voice so rough that he winces, tries to swallow. "Sophie." 

He's not sure which one of them is more surprised when she stands, wrapping her arms around him carefully. 

"Thank you for bringing him home," she whispers in his ear and he nods, having to swallow hard before he can answer. 

"I'd do the same thing for any of you," he says simply and lets himself lean into the hug for a second. 

The towel slips and she gasps when she sees the sliver of wood lodged in his flesh. "Jesus Christ, Eliot!" she says, ducking out of his arms for a closer look. "This is not a little problem!" 

He flinches, a little at her raised voice, knows they both notice. "Still needs to come out." 

The room has a small table and he turns one of the chairs, sitting down slowly and resting his good arm on the back. His left shoulder doesn't want to bend and he gives in, tucking his arm in in front of him. 

"Eliot, are you sure about this?" Sophie asks. "I'm sure we can find an actual trained medical professional to remove this from you."

He scoffs at that. "It's a splinter. If it was somewhere I could reach, I'd be digging it out myself right now." 

"It's going to hurt," she says and if his head wasn't already throbbing, he'd roll his eyes at that. It already hurts, and getting it out before an infection sets in is his main concern. 

"Just do it," he says, and put his chin down on his good arm, watching Parker as she lays out various medical supplies on the table in front of him. There's tweezers, squares of gauze, dressings, tape and wound ointment. He bites the inside of his lip, lifting his head to speak. "Grab the scalpel and stitch kit too," he says simply and she nods, one sharp bob of her head and reaches back into the bag. 

Sophie presses an ice pack over the wound and he shivers under the chill, but it helps, takes some of the throbbing away and he's damn grateful for that. 

Parker slips a pair of gloves on and moves behind him, reaching over him to grab some gauze and the tweezers. The closeness makes him feel twitchy and his hand tightens on the chair. 

He grits his teeth as she lifts the ice pack off and probes the sliver with the tweezers, the plastic catching on the wood. It makes him flinch, muscles twitching and he feels her freeze behind him. 

"I'm okay. It's okay," he says quietly. "Keep going." 

"Tell me, if you need me to stop," she says, one hand brushing his bare back before she gets to work with the tweezers again. 

It's a nasty sliver, maybe four inches long, jammed in the muscle just under his shoulder blade. The end is ragged and friable and every time she thinks she's got a good grip, the wood breaks off. The muscles in his back are tense under her hands, breathing deliberately steady and she knows all the poking must be agony. 

"Parker," Eliot says, voice slightly hoarse, and she stops instantly. "Just cut it," he adds and blows out a ragged breath. 

"Cut you, you mean?" She glances at the scalpel and shudders. 

"Yeah," he says, and turns as much as he can to look at her. "That's where the damn thing is, after all." He's pale again, eyes shadowed, and there's a fine sheen of sweat on his face. 

She licks her lips and nods. "Tell me what to do." 

He does, in more detail than she ever wanted and her hand only shakes a little when she picks the scalpel up, trying not to think as she follows his instructions, swabbing his back with antiseptic first. Shaky doesn't seem an acceptable trait for performing minor surgery and she presses the ice pack against his shoulder until she has the shake under control. She places the blade against his skin and makes one swift cut. It frees some of the splinter and she reaches for the tweezers again but the wood still stubbornly refuses to come free. 

It rips a pained grunt out of him and he swallows so hard she can hear it. 

"Eliot…" Parker says, free hand on his good shoulder, thumb rubbing absent circles on his skin. She looks up, meeting Sophie's horrified gaze. It's not the first time they've had to do stuff like this and given their jobs, if probably won't be last but that doesn't make it any easier. 

"Just get it done," he rasps, tacking on please as an afterthought to soften his tone. 

"Okay," Parker says and makes the cut bigger, swiping away blood and letting the gauze drop to the floor. 

His back is still under her hands, but she can hear the strain of it in his breathing when she goes in with the tweezers again. His good hand is gripping the chair hard enough to turn his knuckles white, head tipped forward so his hair falls past his face, hiding his expression. 

Blood wells again as she gets a good grip on the wood and tugs. It moves this time, sliding out maybe half and inch and Eliot makes a noise halfway between a hiss and a grunt. 

His whole world has distilled down to the throb in his shoulder, the sharp but cleaner pain from the incision, the ache down his back as he fights his instincts to stay still so he doesn't scare Parker half to death. 

"Nearly done," Parker says, and he can hear the wobble in her voice that means she's crying and trying to hide it. 

Must be the day for it, he thinks. "You're doing great," he tells her, because she is. It's a damn brave thing she's doing, and he's not sure how to make her understand how grateful he is for the help. 

She changes her grip on the tweezers and takes another hold on the sliver, pulling slowly, easing it out from under his skin. The entire thing slides free suddenly and she feels like cheering. "It's out," she says and drops it on the table in front of him. 

He swipes his hair back from his face, blinking at the damn thing in surprise. It had felt huge in his back, like a stone in a shoe, but it's actually bigger than he'd expected. 

"Well, fuck," he says simply, and takes a deep breath that doesn't pull obscenely at his shoulder. 

Sophie hands over a dish of antiseptic and more gauze. "It says it doesn't sting," she says and takes a minor risk, resting her hand on his arm. His muscles tense under her touch at first before he blows out a long breath and lets himself relax. 

She's right, it doesn't sting at all as Parker cleans the wounds, adding wound ointment for good measure before taping a dressing securely over the top. He's glad she's being so thorough because pallet wood tends to be coated in all kinds of dirty stuff and the last thing he wants is an infection. 

He's exhausted and all he wants to do is give into the pull of the bed and sack out for a couple of hours, give his brain and body chance to rest a bit but he's painfully aware of Parker standing next to him, face pale. 

"Thank you," he says. "Feels better already," he adds, and it's not quite a lie. 

She nods, sharply and he forces himself to his feet, accepting a t-shirt from Sophie who tips her head towards the door and slips out quietly. 

"You were shaking in the car," Parker says and he sinks back into the seat. "Why were you shaking in the car, Eliot?" she asks, like it's something she can't quite square in her mind. 

He licks his lips, knowing he's too exhausted and mentally fried to have this conversation right now. He also knows that he owes her. "It was a rough fight," he says simply, after a long pause, thankful there's enough cuts and bruises on his skin to sell the story. 

"Did you kill someone?" She can't look at him and he feels a stab of self hatred rip through him, more painful and cutting by far than the wound on his back. 

He hesitates, again, because he doesn't want her to think badly of him, but she's been brave enough to ask the question and he needs to be brave enough to answer. "Yes," he says and doesn't try to explain or excuse it. He did his job and he'll take the consequences, no matter how much they hurt. 

"Okay," she says and looks at him. "You should rest," she says and a rush of gratitude races through him for the way her brain works. She's got the answers that she wanted and she's not going to press him for more. 

He stands, body aching, and brushes past her, dropping a featherlight kiss on her temple on the way to the bed. "Stay?" he asks, in the same tone she'd once used on him, and she nods, curling up one one side of the big bed, one socked foot resting against his calf. 

It takes him a while to get comfortable and he watches as the tension slowly drains from her face before he lets his own eyes close. 

Thank you, he thinks. Thank you for not hating me. Thank you for giving me another chance when I don't deserve it. 

He's not sure how or why or which God is setting up a long joke at his expense, but he's found a family and he's going to do everything he can to keep them whole. 

Even if it costs him more of his already tattered soul. 

That's a consequence he can live with. 

Losing them isn't. 

[backdraft-bimbo]

rule number two

After years of avoiding his trauma, Bucky finally confides in Sam. 

Words: 2893; Chapters: 1/1

James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson; Episode: s01e02 The Star-Spangled Man Coda

ao3 link

“Why don’t you get some shut eye, Buck? It’s gonna be a long ride home.” 

Bucky glances at Sam from his makeshift cargo perch across the fuselage. The bags under his eyes must be getting bad. Leah gave Bucky the impression last week that he needs concealer for his skin or something. But he’s a 106-year-old ex-assassin; who the hell is he trying to impress at this point?

After a few seconds pass, Bucky notes that he should probably respond instead of just staring blankly, because that’s what people do, right? They talk to each other, they share, and they trust so easily. It’s such a simple question, but Bucky’s urge to deflect any possible social interaction has decided to rear its ugly head tonight. Sam can’t be a fan of it either, since he’s the charismatic one of the two of them. He’s not the guy with the staring problem.

It’s just… Bucky doesn’t have normal conversations without being reminded of the restored freedom to speak his mind. The habits HYDRA drilled into his brain incite an unpleasant knee-jerk reaction– don’t speak or they’ll beat you –but Bucky has gotten better at managing the vestiges of his trauma. At least now he’ll be able to defend himself if his careless mouth puts him in hot water. And maybe he could just be honest with Sam; it wouldn’t hurt anything. But that almost kindles a burst of laughter in Bucky: the concept of himself not hurting somebody. What a world that would be.

Don’t get him wrong–Bucky used to like talking to people. He used to be good at it. But that was a long time ago; far longer than anyone should be able to recall. Even now, Bucky’s early 20th century days as a staff sergeant feel like a distant dream. He almost misses the wartime; when everything was simpler. Sure, it was bloody and violent and horrible, but at least Bucky knew how to fucking talk to people he considered friends. When it comes to his loose tongue nowadays, there’s an ugly history waiting to make an unwanted appearance; bared teeth and all.

“I don’t,” Bucky answers finally, his voice trembling a fraction more than he’s comfortable with. He doesn’t think he can do more than two syllables right now. If Bucky somehow musters up the courage to tell Sam about his nightmares, he won’t make it through a single sentence without bursting into tears like a twelve-year-old.

The fact that Sam could somehow see Bucky’s eye bags across the shadowy fuselage does not convince Bucky that Sam didn’t hear that slight embarrassing waver in his voice. But even if he did, the guy doesn’t comment on it. Sam has been laying in a supine position on the flight seats for the past hour, drifting in and out of sub-consciousness, and really, he’s the one who looks damn tired. It’s been a long day for both of them; they’re bruised and achy after their loss against the Flag-Smashers–more proof that Bucky shouldn’t bother Sam.

But this is here and now. The sky is starless as a humming inky black abyss, the RS-834 cruising about 40,000 feet above sea level, far beyond the stratus clouds, and everything feels tranquil in that seldom gentle way it does sometimes. It’s as if the world consists only of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, and that illusion is a tremendous comfort to the ex-assassin. When it’s clear that Bucky isn’t going to elaborate, Sam lets his neck muscles relax, drooping his head back to face the opposite wall that reflects the drowsy slur of his voice.

“C’mon, man...I know at least three percent of your body is metal, but that don’t mean you never sleep.”

Bucky pauses. Tries not to glance at his left arm. He has to be careful; guys like him have a tendency to overshare when it’s late. It’s just that something about the night brings a facade of protection, as if anything he says can be written off as a dream, so he can bare himself to the bone in front of anyone he wants. It doesn’t matter since it will be forgotten in the morning. The night is unreliable, thus Bucky uses that to his defense.

“Aren’t you worried I’m gonna like...”

“Kill me?” Sam snorts, a bit of energy returning to his voice. “I think if either of us really wanted to kill the other, one of us would be lying in a heap by now. Just saying.”

Bucky can’t argue with that. Like Dr. Raynor so elegantly puts it, it is so sad, but Sam is probably Bucky’s only real friend at this point. Add that with the fact that he doesn’t really want to kill anyone anyway, and someone who doesn’t know better might call what Sam and Bucky have a “healthy relationship.” Bucky swings a hand around Sam’s vicinity, willing his voice to level out this time.

“Are you tired? You should go to sleep.”

A deep sigh resonates out from Sam’s dark corner. “Man, I forget sometimes how good you are at that.”

“What?”

“Changing the subject.”

Oh.  

Bucky wonders which part of him that came from: James “Bucky” Barnes, or his HYDRA-conditioned brain. Perhaps it was just a defense against people trying to crowbar their way into his thoughts. As long as he can distract them, he’s safe. Bucky exhales a heavy breath, combing a hand through his greasy hair.

“Look, I just... I’m not the most pleasant person to sleep with.”

A moment of unwonted silence passes. Bucky’s gaze wanders away from his hands and toward Sam. By the time his eyes have adjusted, the guy has propped himself up on his elbows, teeth shining through the dimness in a quiet grin. The suggestive phrasing of Bucky’s words finally catches up to him. His cheeks redden. Well, if Sam decides to take it that way… Bucky technically hasn’t gotten laid since the 1940s. From what he remembers, it hadn’t even been very good. But hell no–that’s the kind of mental rabbit hole Bucky isn’t in the mood for. He coughs and slaps his thighs.

“We have like three more hours. Go to sleep, Sam. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Now you gon’ make me feel bad about it,” Sam smirks. “Shame on you, Barnes.”

Bucky ducks his head in exasperation. “You’re an idiot. What, you want me to sing you a lullaby?”

Sam visibly brightens at that. “Ooh, for real? You know any?”

Great , so now Sam is standing up, walking toward him, the grin on his annoying face widening. And because Bucky is a fucking mess, his tongue gets tied up in about fifteen knots before he gets the chance to open his mouth, and he’s already forgetting what he was going to say. Hell, if Sam smiled any brighter than that, he’d be the fucking sun.

“Uh, well, y’know,” Bucky says eloquently. “HYDRA was kinda lacking in that department.”

Sam laughs again, making himself at home on the red seats adjacent to Bucky’s perch, and Bucky feels a miserable sort of swell in his chest. Why is Sam purposefully gravitating toward him? Who the hell wants an ex-HYDRA assassin in close proximity?

“You gettin’ shy on me, Buck?” Sam tilts his head slightly downward, gazing up at Bucky with his big brown eyes and thick eyelashes, and what the fuck. “You ain’t gotta look so shook up; I don’t bite.”

“That’s a surprise,” Buck replies weakly, trying to force his face to cool down. There’s so much spit caught up in his throat right now, and Bucky knows it’ll look weird if he swallows in front of this guy, like he’s some nervous teenager with a school crush. Sam just laughs softly, the corners of his cheeks tightening, his lips curling up in a way that is too fucking charming to be on the face of a man sitting right across from a mass murderer. But honestly, Bucky can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed anymore; any time Sam laughs because of him is a win.

God, maybe I am good for something.

An overlay of silence reigns over the two men, and the white noise hum of the plane almost makes Bucky want to doze off. When he blinks himself awake for the fifth time, Sam’s familiar cadence cuts through the air like a knife to warm butter. He sounds wide awake.

“Nightmares, huh. So that’s why you don’t sleep.”

Bucky pales a shade, shifting atop his crate in discomfort. He supposes he wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was being. Sam lifts his hands in a placating gesture, his voice much more benign now. “I used to get ‘em sometimes too. Hell, even nowadays I do; service will do that to you. Not tryna say I completely understand what’s going on in that big cyborg brain of yours, but…I get it, to a degree.”

Bucky wonders if Sam behaves like this whenever he’s talking to veterans in his therapy group, or if he’s reserved this for Bucky alone. He finds himself craving the latter to a degree that is both confusing and hopeless. “I…” he mutters, pointedly not looking at the other man. The miserable swell from before is morphing into something much more sad, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do with it.

You’re alone. You have no friends, no family.

The harsh words bounce around Bucky’s head like a game of Pong, contrasting starkly against Sam’s kind and gentle tone. A spark of indignation thaws the insides of his chest. It’s not fair, it’s not true; Bucky’s got proof right here. Fuck you, Dr. Raynor. Despite all you think, at least I’ve got this dumbass with me.

Sam speaks again, leaning back in his seat. “Look, you ain’t gotta tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m just lettin’ you know that you ain’t gotta fight this alone.”

Bucky hates tip-toeing around his trauma like it’s some massive landmine. Part of him just wants to lay it all out; explode with everything he’s never willingly told another soul; reopen his wounds and expel all the ugliness in the hopes that maybe he’ll heal up properly this time. He wants to scream to Sam that he never got a fucking break; it was abuse upon abuse. HYDRA buried him alive just to water his grave in guilt and horror and self-hatred. There had never been the option of peace for the Winter Soldier. He was the asset, the weapon, the tool, the plaything, taken out of a dusty closet any time somebody wanted a turn with him.

“It was never a fight,” Bucky whispers. “They never gave me a chance.”

Sam looks slightly taken aback, as if he wasn’t expecting the ex-assassin to actually respond. Bucky would be surprised too if he didn’t feel so utterly lost right now. Instead, he settles for staring past Sam’s shoulder into the back of the fuselage, trying to find answers in the dim blue lights blanketing them. Despite how hard Bucky tries not to see it, Sam is shifting, his face crumpling into...something. He can’t put his finger on it but hopes to God it’s not pity. Steve used to give him that look, always catching himself doing it, and then getting all guilty about it afterward. So before Bucky can stop himself there, let his words fester in comfortable ambiguity, he’s taking off and nothing is going to stop him.

“So yeah, Sam,” Bucky continues, gritting out the words, “I get nightmares. I remember every single human being I murdered with this stupid fucking metal arm, and now I have to deal with it for the rest of my ‘overextended life.’ Is that selfish? Is it selfish of me to say that I wish I died in that fucking ravine when I was supposed to? I don’t belong here, Sam. Just the fact that I’m alive in this era is unnatural. But I’ve gotta make amends with my laundry list of everyone I hurt, because dying just isn’t going to cut it. ”

Bucky still isn’t looking at Sam by the time he finishes, snapping his mouth shut like an animal being muzzled before he can bite anyone else. Even though Bucky can’t tell what Sam is thinking, can’t see how his expression has undoubtedly contorted from pity to hurt, Bucky is overwhelmed by instinct. He doesn't know which side is currently winning over: the Soldier’s desperation to submit before his handlers put him through “corrective treatment,” or Bucky’s longing to apologize to Sam for hurting him. Make amends, make amends, don’t hurt anyone. Rule number two.

The latter ends up taking the tug of war, and Bucky whispers out a choked, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Sam, I–”

“Hey.”

Sam is standing close beside him, their shoulders almost level while Bucky is slouching. He can’t suppress the shiver that shoots through his body like lightning as a hand carefully grips his flesh arm. “Hey, man, look at me,” Sam says–somehow firm and gentle at the same time. His thumb brushes over the fabric of Bucky’s sweater, and Bucky wants to let his hand come up to clench Sam’s, but hell if he doesn’t know how that’ll end. It’s been so long since he’s been touched in a way that doesn’t end in bruises.

“Hey, hey… Listen to me, man. I hear you,” Sam says warmly, burnishing the chasm where Bucky thinks his heart used to be. “And it’s gonna be all right. You may not think it yet, and I should’ve said something earlier, but…” Sam trails off, pauses, then nods to himself. “You’re a good man, Bucky.”

A tight, burning ember of anguish flares up in Bucky’s throat.

A good man.

The Winter Soldier seldom got oral approval from his handlers, and even when he did, it was for chaos and carnage disguised as HYDRA’s regurgitated “gift to mankind” bullshit. To James “Bucky” Barnes, praise was a concept he never considered, since he’d have to be deserving in order to get any. Goodness is reserved for people , and Bucky crossed the line of humanity a long time ago. He isn’t a person anymore–just a monster.

People who fall under the category of “good” are the ones like Steve. Like his sister Becca. And like Sam Wilson specifically, standing here next to him with the true mantle of Captain America; a man so much damn worthier of that title than Bucky is, and he thinks Bucky is good . The same guy who has killed more innocent people than he has fingers and toes. And that’s not counting the unnameable ones–the collateral damage–caught in the crossfire.

Just the thought of all he’s done makes Bucky want to fervently deny Sam; to prove him wrong; to show Sam his track record with big red letters at the bottom of the page emphasizing that Bucky isn’t good . In the memories of hundreds, maybe thousands of people, he’s the cruel, terrifying mercenary with a history uglier than most want to comprehend. If Sam saw all that Bucky had done, would he change his mind? Would Sam look at Bucky the way he looks at himself in the mirror?

Sam is saying something now–maybe his name. But Bucky can’t hear him. He doesn’t know when the tears began, so he quickly ducks his chin so Sam can’t see them streaming down his face. God, it’s so fucking cold. Sam lets out a soft hum–not sad, but caring–and Bucky knows he’s failed at hiding again. Sam’s hand brushes up his arm and around his shoulder, pulling him gently against Sam’s warm body. Eventually Bucky leans into it, shutting his eyes tight.

“Been a while,” Bucky mutters, almost a whisper; it might just be a vivid thought.

“Yeah, I know, Tin Man. I mean it, you’re a great guy. And before you start, I know you don’t believe me, but I’m gonna keep reminding you till you do.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sniffles, voice muffled as he buries his face into Sam’s shoulder. “Thank you, Sam.”  

The words, the touching–it’s all too good to be true. It has to be too good to be true, because if it’s real, then Bucky might just have a bit of hope left. And if he has hope, then he can’t jump into battle without care for his own life anymore. He’s going to have to exist correctly this time around. So if Sam means what he says, if he really thinks Bucky is a good person, then Bucky is going to live up to that image or die trying.  

Once they pull away, it’s felt like hours. The plane is still going steady through the early morning, the lights still that calming shade of blue, but something has shifted in the air, something neither Sam nor Bucky can seem to put their finger on. It’s a certain kind of rawness; an ache Bucky is thoroughly familiar with; a feeling that always comes with the moon and foolish amounts of trust. Bucky mumbles a flustered apology for the wet spot now stained into Sam’s sweater, but the guy just shakes his head and grins in a way that makes Bucky fall in love with him.

“Anytime.”

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Crys Idek wtd…

TW: ED, mentions of food, Shaming

So I tried on my bridesmaid dress and my ass apparently got bigger so now it feels like it’s about to rip when I’m standing up, which makes me think “fucking great I’m gonna have to stand at my sisters wedding the whole time if I don’t want my 200$ dress to burst open. But then I’ve been told by not only my sister (the bride) but also my alterations seamstress that I need to st*rve myself so that I lose weight. But I already know that I’m barely eating 1 meal (if you could even call them that) a day, and that it’s not gonna give me the results I want. My mom even brought up spanx but in this case it won’t help me because I have a slit in my dress that goes up to my mid thigh if not a little higher. What makes me feel worse is that when we got these dresses I was the one who got stepped all over just so the bride would be happy and changed brands and styles and has to pick one from her preselected bunch for me to wear, and on top of that we took my hip size into consideration when choosing what size I would get and got a size up despite my lack of a chest which would require more alterations in the future.

So now I feel like shit, cant do shit to make my ass any smaller (despite how everyone always tells me I should be grateful for having an ass - despite that it’s done me more harm then good when it comes to buying clothes ) and I’m so frustrated that I can’t fix this problem without someone either being hurt, offended or straight up miserable.

First of all (respectfully) your sister sounds awful. She asked you to be in her wedding and she's giving you shit for it? Idgaf if you're related, it's basic human decency. Even if she meant it in a "joking" context you should never joke about shit like that. As for the seamstress that's also a load of fucking bullshit. She's an alterations seamstress and she's giving you shit for making her do her fucking job? Absolute bullshit. You're fine the way you are, love. If I were in your shoes I'd find a better tailor who can actually do their goddamn job instead of telling you to do horrible things to yourself just so they can avoid doing it.

But don't feel discouraged by your proportions (I recognize is easier said than done), and a lot of it comes from genetics somewhere and can't be helped. It'll take a lot more work to deal with, surely, but sometimes you just have to make do with what you have. You are absolutely gorgeous, love, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

➜ Words: 2.2k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

“In this recipe, we’re using baking soda instead of baking powder. Why? Does anyone remember the reason when we talked about our recipe of mille-feuille?”   You’re twirling your pen in your hand, bored out of your mind while someone answers that baking soda doesn’t have the acid that baking powder would normally add and how baking soda has much stronger leavening power than baking powder.   Theory has never been your area of expertise. You’ve always preferred to do the actual baking and go through trial and error than learning through the textbook. So with your mind wandering and from fear of falling asleep, you pull out your phone to text Seokjin. He’s been answering your texts slower these days.   “Alright, next class we’ll put our hands to work in the kitchen. Don’t pack up yet! I got some emails asking about the midterm so I just wanted to answer those questions here! Yes, it will be a collaborative exam and you can re-make anything that we’ve learned thus far in the semester. Baking is all about working together, so before I leave, I’ll post who everyone’s partners are. Come down and take a look before you go.”   With the lecture finished, you pack up your belongings, shoving it all into your bag and swinging the strap over your shoulder to walk down the steps. It’s crowded already, but as people filter out, you’re able to get ahead to look at the paper.   And as luck would have — you’re partnered with Jeon Jungkook.   It’s outrageous. As if having the same internship for three months wasn’t enough, now he’s your midterm partner.   You spin around to the teacher, beelining straight to him. But Jeon Jungkook beats you to it.   “Is there a possible way I can switch my partner?”   “I second that.” For once, you back him up. It’s probably the only thing you can agree on.   Jungkook looks to you before redirecting his attention back at the man who has his brow quirked. “Is there a legitimate reason?”   “Umm….”   “Our schedules don’t align,” Jungkook lies without batting a lash.   “Yeah.” You nod. “He has classes when I don’t and uh, he’s working on different projects when I have work….”   “It would be more convenient if we had different partners.”   “Wow, you two figured out you have incompatible schedules a minute into finding out you’re partners? Well, I’m sure you two can work something out.” Mr. Chu smiles, overly positive in a way that irks you. “Things have a way of working themselves out.”   In these circumstances, you’re not too sure about that.   Jungkook swallows hard, finding whatever excuse he can. “I’m afraid Y/N won’t pull her weight.”   “Excuse me?!” You can’t believe he blatantly threw you under the bus in front of your face. “That’s completely untrue! He won’t be able to pull his weight.”   “We’re just incompatible partners.” Jungkook outright ignores you. “I am happy to work with anyone, Mr. Chu. Just not her. Park Jimin said he would be fine to switch his partner and work with me.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder to his timid friend standing near the door who realizes he’s being talked about and gives a polite wave.   Yet, the teacher gives a long sigh. “Look, you two. I know there’s bad blood between you both but wouldn’t this be a great opportunity to overcome that like the adults that you are?”   “I—”   “Mr. Chu—”   “I’m sorry, but there won’t be any switching.” He shakes his head. “Often times, you can’t choose who you work with in the real world. You just have to get over it and be professional. Learn a two or thing from that. That’s the point of this midterm. If there are concerns about the project, then you can visit my office hours. Otherwise, you’ll be working together and that’s final.”   It’s official. You hate your fine pastries class — and it used to be your favourite too.   “Fuck. Fuck,” he’s muttering, kicking the gravel from underneath his feet. You approach him with crossed arms.   “You don’t have to keep saying it.”   “What? That this fucking sucks?”   “Look, I don’t like you anymore than you like me. You don’t have to make it harder than it needs to be.”   “Oh yeah? You want to make it less hard? How about you stop existing then.”   “Okay, fuck you, Johnson. Stop pouting like you’re fucking four years old. Are we going to talk about the project or do you want to flunk?”   “Stop calling me Johnson.”   “Or else what?”   Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You’re so childish.”   “I’m the childish one?” you scoff in disbelief. “I’m not the one practically throwing a tantrum.”   “Whatever. But what’s there to talk about? We’ll make carrot cake.”   “What the hell?” You’re appalled. He’s not even going to ask you? “No, we’ll make the charlotte royale.”   “No, you idiot.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.   You scoff again. This was absolutely unbelievable. It’s a shame that no one’s listening into this conversation — there’s no way you would be able to retell just how absurd this was. “Did you just call me an idiot?”   “Yes, carrot’s the easiest. We’ll get it done and over with.”   “I don’t want to get it done and over with.” You point right at him. “Unlike you, I care about my grades, okay? So what if it’s easy? It won’t get us the marks we need.”   “Since when did you care about your grades?”   “Okay, fuck off, Jeon.”   Having enough of him, you decide to walk away but Jungkook soon calls out after you. “Are you going to give me your phone number?”   You’re horrified enough to spin around and regard him with a disgusted expression. “What? No!”   “For the project, you dumbass. You think I’m asking because I want to know?”   You roll your eyes to the back of your skull and close the distance with three strides again. Surprisingly, the both of you civilly exchange contact information without ripping each other’s heads off but you don’t want to be with him longer than you need to. “When are we going to meet up? We should decide so I don’t have to text you.”   “I’m fine with whenever.”   “Tomorrow then.”   “Sure.”   You leave already texting Jin your grievances. He doesn’t answer since he’s so busy, but you’re ready to unload.   //   The next day comes too quickly.   The first person you see in the morning is the last person you ever want to see — and Jungkook isn’t amused either. He regards you with a lazy gaze, dark circles, oversized black hoodie and jeans that he probably picked up off his floor and put on after giving a good sniff.   Other partners are already in the kitchen figuring out their recipes, but you have yet to decide what to make. You swear the asshat is just disagreeing with you to make it harder and more miserable.   “What don’t you understand? What you’re asking for is too unreasonable.”   “Really? You think whipping meringue by hand is too difficult? Maybe you shouldn’t be baking then, Jeon.”   “It’s time consuming,” he groans and rubs his temple. “And it’s not worth it. If you want to spend your time doing something impressive than we should make something like fucking I don’t know, Napoleon cake and call it a day.”   “Okay, sounds good to me.”   “What? Actually?”   “I don’t see why not. You can make the puff pastry while I make the custard. We assemble together.”   “You make it sound easier than it’ll be, but fine. We can meet up tonight. What, don’t give me that look. It’s not like you’re busy. And spending time with your boyfriend doesn’t constitute as being busy. The sooner we get this done, the sooner it’s over.”   “Fine. How about eight?”   “Seven thirty. See you then.”   You’re exasperated. He’s a jerk. And you go on your way while shaking your head.   8:21 am. Y/N: still cant believe my luck   5:43 pm. Seokjin: Hey where are you?  5:44 pm. Seokjin: We should meet

Jungkook lives his life precariously. He is flexible and follows his instincts. That’s not to say he’s irresponsible, reckless or that he’s fickle. He’s adaptable and it’s the reason why he started baking anyways — a whim that he fell in love with. 

  Jungkook prefers to go with his gut feeling than plan every step of the way. And it’s his gut feeling that tells him you’re nothing but an absolute headache.   “Let me suck on your muffin.”   Yoongi’s expression dies, washing over into an impassive state. “Say that again, Kim, and I’ll never bring my extra muffins again.” Taehyung whines on the couch while Jimin laughs. Yoongi looks over at Jungkook. “Hey, want one, Kook?”   He tosses him a blueberry muffin anyhow but Jungkook chucks it at Hoseok who catches it in both hands, almost missing. “Nah. What time is it? I gotta go.”   “Where are you going on a Friday night at seven?”   “Ooh, it’s a date, isn’t it?” Taehyung grins. “What kind of girl?”   “Who is it?” Hoseok clarifies the question, cheek full of muffin. “I haven’t heard you talk about anyone ever.”   “He wishes.” Jimin giggles, have an inkling of where it was he was going.   “it’s not a date, dumbass. I have a meeting with my midterm project partner.”   “Damn,” Yoongi comments, biting into the muffin he baked earlier in class. “That’s rough.”   “His partner’s Y/N,” Jimin says with a sparkle in his eye, watching Jungkook get up from the couch.   Taehyung’s eyes bulge. They nearly fall out of their sockets and he wheezes, pounding his chest as part of the muffin stuck in his gullet. “You’re partners with that psycho bitch?”   “Yeah.” The youngest of all of them sighs. “I couldn’t change.”   Jungkook walks past, but Yoongi stops him, plopping a hand on his shoulder. The usually cold man seems sympathetic for once and holds up his muffin. “Are you sure you don’t want one?”   He dreads it — having to ditch his friends on a Friday night and the warmth of his dorm room. All in exchange for the chilly wind outside and the empty kitchens that’re eerie without souls inside them, just metal bowls and silver appliances. But Jungkook drags himself there anyway.    He’s ten minutes early since he’s not one to leave people waiting.    But when seven thirty eventually rolls around, you’re nowhere in sight.   7:34 pm. Jungkook: Are you coming or not   He waits for an additional twenty minutes, sitting on the stool, playing games on his phone. Then he realizes the time and gets started anyhow. The puff pastry always takes longer to make anyways. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t frustrated — Jungkook’s frankly pissed off and if you decided to ditch him, you’ll have one or two things coming, that’s for sure.   Jungkook beats two ounces of butter with a tablespoon of sugar. Then he folds in two beaten eggs, one tablespoon vinegar, cold water, three tablespoons of vodka, and salt. He folds in the two and a half cups of flour and forms a dough in his hands until it’s soft and pliable.    Right when he wraps the bowl in plastic and slides it into the fridge to chill for an hour, the door to the kitchen opens.   “You’re late.”   You’re not even dressed in an apron nor is your hair tied back like it’s supposed to be but he doesn’t comment.   “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you? It’s been an hour and I’m done my part.”   Silence.   You don’t respond. Jungkook scoffs.   It was a new low for you to give him the silent treatment when you’re the late one. Your head is downcasted, facing away from him, giving him the cold shoulder. You don’t spare him one glance as you go over to the fridge, pulling out eggs, sugar, flour, milk, vanilla beans, and butter.   You pour milk into the saucepan haphazardly and it splashes everywhere on the counter.   “Hey, watch it!”    Jungkook rips the carton away from your hands. He didn’t know you were this much of an amateur.   He watches you in mortification as you move to the flour bag, scooping out a whole cup instead of six tablespoons. He wonders if you had a stroke. “Y/N, you’re supposed to do the eggs next. What the hell is wrong with—”   You burst into tears.    Jungkook’s heart stutters. He pales. He freezes in place. He feels his entire body go rigid.    And his brain breaks.   …..   What.   Tears. Full on tears are streaming down your face. You’re wailing, covering your face with your floured hands and crying into them. Your entire frame shakes as devastation wrecks through your entire body. He’s never seen you look so small before. He’s never seen you cry.   Jungkook puts milk down, swallowing hard. He watches you with eyes as big as saucers. “I...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”   You sob. “J-Jin brok..e up w-with m...e.”

[glitxhwayventeen]

Ghostin

Seungkwan: Chapter 3 (Never Enough)

Characters: Seungkwan x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, angst (a shit ton of sadness honestly), semi-unrequited love, death mentions, mental illness (depression), runaway mates, family fighting, implied violence. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: Okay so this chapter is a bit shorter than I had anticipated, but please bare with me. The next one for him should get pretty intense and I think it’ll be worth it. But this chapter had to slow it down a bit for explanation purposes. And I’m sorry for all the Angst recently, I’m better at writing that than I am fluff or smut. But I swear, Hansol and Chan’s chapters won’t be as edgy.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

🥀

Ghostin Master List

Chapter 3: Never Enough

It had been almost a week since you left. Seungkwan barely left his room. He hardly ate. He hardly slept. Hell, he hardly even cried anymore. He just stared up blankly at his ceiling. He was just doing the absolute bare minimum to stay alive for his pack, and that’s mostly because you asked him to. But he didn’t want to continue his life without you, even if you didn’t love him, he still loved you. You were everything to him. Living a life without you wasn’t a life Seungkwan thought was worth living.

At this point, anytime he slept and dreamed, it was of you. Whether it be some small memory he had with you, or just a random nightmare that terrified him to his core, it was always you. It killed him to see you without ACTUALLY seeing you, so he tried not to sleep much. Of course, he still did. He had to, and when he did, he always dreamt of you. And it seemed he wasn’t the only one who had that problem now…

Flashback

“How could you?!? How could you make her leave?!?” Seungkwan screamed at the top of his lungs at the older wolf, having to be held back by his other brothers so he wouldn’t lunge at him after he had spent hours outside looking for you.

He came home dirty, covered from head to toe in twigs, leaves, mud, and dirty. He tried to track you, he really did. But you were just… gone. He tried to follow the pull, but it always lead him back home, the last place he had seen you. He knew you must’ve used your powers or some sort of spell to mislead his instincts. You didn’t want him to find you, you left for his own good, and it broke him fragile little heart.

“Seungkwan… I’m sorry. I didn’t think- I didn’t think she’d actually leave you I-” Jihoon tried, still at a loss for words from the events that happened only hours ago.

“You fucking asshole!! I hate you! I HATE YOU!” Seungkwan cried out with mud streaking his face, trying to tear himself out of the other pack members grips to get to him, failing miserably due to his lack of strength.

“I HATE YOU! YOU RUINED EVERYTHING! I FUCKING HATE YOU!!” He sobbed into the closest members shoulder, finally letting himself fall to the floor in agony.

“I hate you… I hate you… How could you… I hate you…” he continued to mumble as Soonyoung started to comfort the younger wolf, rubbing his back softly while whispering words of encouragement to him.

Jihoon couldn’t believe what had happened. You actually left his brother to fend for himself. Seungkwan was too devastated to even speak coherently. You hadn’t actually denied him, you wanted to be sure he still had a chance at living and denying him would’ve killed him, but you could make sure he didn’t find you. And that’s apparently what you had done. You made true to your promise of leaving Seungkwan so that he could be happy. He could never blame you for it, he loved you, you were his mate after all. So that only left one other person he could blame it on…

“Jihoon… you fucking prick… I fucking hate you… I fucking HATE you…” Seungkwan whimpered out in the direction of the older wolf, still laying on the floor with his brothers surrounding him to be sure he didn’t hurt himself.

“Okay that’s enough. I think Seungkwan needs to go and rest. Hansol, you and Seokmin will be in charge of him. Take him up to his room and stay with him. He’s had a long day and- and he just really looks like he needs to sleep.” Jeonghan decided as the one currently in charge.

As one of the Alphas, it was his job to remain impartial and make sure everything was running smoothly. Usually, it was Seungcheol’s job as he was physically the oldest, but he went out with a few of the others to try and find you. So it was left to Jeonghan to take care of the remaining pack. But seeing his brother so broken and hurt from losing his mate tore at his own heartstrings. He decided it was best he be kept in his room under supervision to be sure he didn’t hurt himself.

“And YOU!” Jeonghan quickly turned and pointed to Jihoon, who was standing with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard by the sudden demeanor change in the older wolf.

“You come with me NOW!” He barked, walking to the back patio with the smaller boy following his exit.

“What the actual HELL were you thinking?!?” Jeonghan demanded, his eyes already starting to shift to red as he angrily stared his baby brother down.

“I- I don’t know. I just wanted her to treat him better. We all did. But she just- she just left…” Jihoon stuttered, not quite used to being yelled at by anyone.

He generally kept to himself and out of trouble. But this time, he was the direct cause of it. There was no denying it. And he had no fucking way to fix it. His brother was gonna hate him forever and NEVER forgive him. Even if he managed to find a way to get you back to him, he fucked up too badly.

“You damn well KNOW it wasn’t your place to say anything. It wasn’t YOUR mate with the problem so you shouldn’t have had a fucking say. And now look what you’ve done! You’ve made Seungkwan’s mate run for the hills and now he could DIE! Do you even realize the severity of the situation you’ve just made Jihoon?!?” Jeonghan screamed while throwing his hands in the air, really wanting to punch him in the face but knowing that that would solve none of the problems he was listing off in his head.

Jeonghan was the silly alpha who liked to have fun and pull pranks. He was NEVER the one to handle the serious situations. And generally speaking, when he did, he always found it easier to sit down and talk to the others on a peer level. But he was BEYOND pissed. And Jihoon knew why. Seungkwan was one of the kindest most innocent people he’d ever met. And he had just scared off his mate by running his big fat mouth off. He deserved the harsh treatment his brother was giving him and much more.

“I… I know.” Jihoon responded, looking down at his hands that were now connected over his torso in shame.

“I REALLY don’t think you do know Jihoon. Seungkwan’s one of the few pack members who can keep us all together. Even if she hasn’t TRULY denied him, we both know someone like him could never go more than a few days without seeing his mate before getting sick and DYING! What do you thinks gonna happen to not just him, but the whole pack when he decides to give up?” Jeonghan pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, attempting to keep himself calm.

“I- I don’t know.” Jihoon whimpered out, even though he knew just how bad shit was gonna get.

“Well know THIS.” Jeonghan started with his index finger pushing into Jihoon’s chest.

“If ANYTHING happens to Seungkwan OR (Y/N), YOURE the one that’ll be responsible. And YOULL be the one to dig the graves before we kick your ass out of the house FOR GOOD. Am I making myself clear to you?” Jeonghan questioned through gritted teeth, getting more upset at him by the second.

“Yes Jeonghan Hyung.” Jihoon whined out with watery eyes.

“Good. Now you BETTER find SOMEWAY to fix the damage you caused, otherwise you better start looking for a new place to live!” Jeonghan spoke as he gripped onto Jihoon’s collar, lifting him up slightly during the conversation to show dominance.

Jihoon was terrified. He didn’t want his brother to die. He didn’t want to get dropped from the pack. He didn’t want you to die, even if he made it seem that way. He didn’t want a bunch of shit to set into motion because of his stupid actions. He felt like he was spiraling into a pit of despair. What was he going to do? His brother was gonna die and it was all his fault. You were going to die and it was all on him. He wouldn’t have a pack anymore and it was all because of himself. It felt like the whole world was closing in on him and he couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, flashes of your and Seungkwan’s corpses flashed through his mind. You guys’s eyes were white and hallow and your skin was cold and blue. Your mouths were stuck open in horror and all the life had been sucked out of the both of you. He killed you both. He killed you both. HE killed you BOTH. WHAT DID HE DO?!?!

-

Jihoon sat up gasping for air. He started patting his head and body, making sure they wouldn’t pass through him to prove he was awake. It was a dream. It was a dream. He was still alive. Seungkwan was still alive. You were still alive, at least he hoped. That thought frightened him more than anything, but he tried not to give into that fear.

He slowly laid back down to slow his rapidly beating heart and began breathing in and out at a deep pace. From through the walls, he could hear Seungkwan whimper in his sleep, his pulse beating as fast as a jackhammer. He must’ve been having another nightmare about you. Jihoon closed his eyes tightly.

He had to fix this. He had to help his brother. He caused all his pain. He was the reason he was alone in his room crying in his sleep right now. Seungkwan didn’t deserve what had happened to him. He was such a loving, sweet brother and mate. He had to get you back to him. But how could he possible do that? Your strange background meant you could do things they couldn’t even comprehend. You made it to where Seungkwan couldn’t even follow the pull. It was like you had vanished off the face of the Earth. So how the actual fuck could he manage to find you when even your own mate couldn’t?

Jihoon didn’t get anymore sleep that night, he staying up racking his brain on how he could get you to come home. And, by sunrise, he thought he had figured out a half decent plan. It was risky sure, but Jihoon would walk through hell if it meant getting you back to his brother now. He’d grovel on his hands and knees and beg you to come back with him if he had to. He had to rectify his mistakes.

He didn’t even care if he got kicked out of the pack at this point. He didn’t care if he lost his other brothers love anymore. All he cared about was Seungkwan and his sadness. The sadness he could hear every night. He had to bring you back, for Seungkwan’s sake.

And he was gonna do whatever he could to make that happen. Even if it meant getting himself killed in the process, he had to. Because even if he managed to lead you back home, no amount of sorrys or forgive mes we’re gonna bring his brother’s mind back from the abyss he had put him through. No amount of kisses or hugs from you were gonna have his brother’s smile shine as bright as it once had. Seungkwan was always gonna remember the pain of you leaving due to Jihoon’s hard words and actions. No matter what Jihoon did to try and make it all up to Seungkwan, it would Never be Enough in his eyes.

(Updated 8/23)

[plush-rabbit]

Can I Ask You Something?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

You’re in the middle of getting ready, a brush in hand when you freeze. Your ears burn with embarrassment and disbelief- you really had talked to some random stranger on the internet and offered your number to them! And if that wasn’t the worst part, you don’t even know what they looked like, or even know their name! And you told them your name! And even gave them your phone number! You bury your face in your hands and let out a pitiful groan. God, you were always so open and vulnerable when you were half-asleep but this just takes the cake.

“I did want more friends,” you muttered to yourself. “Plus he doesn’t seem too creepy. Maybe he’s just insecure or something with his appearance. Maybe it’s a quirk thing.” You try to reason to yourself, your words not holding much conviction and a swarm of butterflies beginning to form in your stomach, swirling and making you nauseous with anxiety.

You glance at your phone and check your messages. You had received no new messages and the part of you that craved acceptance was disappointed, your ego hurt and the sick feeling of shame taking over.

“Maybe this is for the best, I don’t even know his name,” your voice was quiet and unsure. You tried to convince yourself, the butterflies that began to flutter last night were now a rampaging swarm that made you feel like they would burst out at any second and all your anxieties and fears would consume and feast on your broken body.

Your eyes grew wide and you covered your head. Broken gasps left you, everything too hot all of a sudden, the clothes on you were no longer fresh and left you feeling like an imposter wearing your skin, that the minute you would walk out of the comfort of your own home, you would be mocked and laughed at. You were finding it harder to breathe and you clawing at your chest through your clothes, tears burning in the corners of your eyes. As your vision began to blur, your chest heaving and heart pumping that you felt it would burst out, you phone vibrated against the counter, a loud, invading buzz making you flinch. Rising on shaky legs, you picked up your phone and wiped a clammy hand down the side of your jeans, the scratchy feeling bringing you back to reality. You forced yourself to look at the screen, desperate for any kind of distraction, for the heaviness in your chest to lighten.

Your vision blurred and tears made their way down your face. With the back of your hand, you wiped them away, sniffling and shook your free hand. You focused on where a notification had appeared on the lock screen, an unregistered number popping up with a simple message of ‘hello’. And with a sense of focus, everything felt a bit more breathable. You cleared your throat, forced back the lump in your throat and opened the new message.

It took you a moment to register who it was. You could only guess that it was him, you really couldn’t remember giving your number out to other strangers. You snorted and shook your head. Fingers danced over the screen, typing out your reply, a shaky smile already forming on your lips.

You:

{Look at you messaging me first. Never thought I’d see the day:’)}

You waited with bated breath, going through other options of how you could have replied him before shaking your head- that was probably one of the better ways to respond to him- he was sarcastic, you could be playful and tease him and the former would just throw an insult your way or deflect the question. With breaths finally returning to normal, took a deep breath and went to prepare yourself a sandwich before you ventured off.

You returned to a silent phone, the message marked with “Read” and you cleared your throat. You saved his number under his nickname.

You tried to relax yourself, that while he had a very strong idea of who you were and that it wouldn’t be all that difficult to find who you are, there was no real danger to who you were talking to. The bread underneath your fingertips was indented. You’d be fine in the end. You were just overreacting. In the middle of a bite, your phone buzzed, the message icon displaying across the upper screen.

Toma:

[I already regret this]

You quickly typed out a message, not wanting to lose this playful banter. At least it was playful to you. He was already hard to read when you’d hear his voice, but now that it through pure text, you had no idea what his tone was, what he really could be thinking and what he actually wanted to say before being deleted and retyped.

You:

{And yet you still reply:P}

You thought it was best to skip over the pleasantries, figuring out that he probably didn’t want to talk about how he slept or hearing of the weird dreams that you had that night. No, he seemed more like the type to get to the point, to just say what he’s thinking and act impulsively, not thinking about the repercussions or perhaps not even caring about them if there were any.

Toma:

[Getting your number was a mistake]

You let out a laugh. The feeling In your stomach had already been muted by your lunch, but now it seemed to rise up, wanting to remind you that your anxieties still had you on a tight leash, one that choked you and beg for air.

You:

{So how come you messaged me first??}

{I don’t mind it!! I had a fun time last night:) But I didn’t think you did, which is fine but you could’ve not messaged me}

{Sooo,,, I don’t know where I’m going with this://}

Shigaraki stared at the screen, his upper lip curled into a sneer and red eyes in narrowed slits. If he were to be honest, he had only messaged you because he was bored. It had been a particularly slow day at the League, plans having been changed to another day, meetings having already been done earlier and it was a rare for them to get a day where they had it to themselves- where they didn’t need to plan or worry about if this would be their last day on this miserable planet.

But that rare moment of peace never extended to him. Shigaraki always had to plan. He had to be one step ahead of everyone- he can’t risk a day, an hour, a minute- he had to go over everything until he was sure there were no faults in his plans. Yet, on this day, his head was foggy, muddled with insecurities he wouldn’t dare speak out, and starting to hurt with a combination from lack of sleep and staring at the same plans that constantly shifted, always finding a flaw.

His hands were clasped in front of him, fingers massaging into his skin. His eyes slowly closed and he released a long exhale. His skin itched and burned and his patience was already wearing thin.  Red eyes leer at the phone that sits on his desk, screen black and silent.

The phone was almost always silent, only used for a few messages that were sent to him by members of the League or notifications of mobile games. However, his phone now buzzes with your messages, with mundane conversations as if you were talking to an old friend. You talk to him as if he were an ordinary person who had a family and didn’t risk his life by his mere existence.

Yet, that wasn’t who he was. He was a killer, one of Japan’s most wanted, someone who could and would kill you with just a touch of his hand. As far as you were concerned, he wasn’t any of that. He doesn’t know what compels him to message you, he knows he doesn’t want a slice of normalcy, he has a dream and the will to do it and you were just going to be a distraction, a small weight tying him down. He shakes his head and types a message to you, the words disappearing and reappearing as he figures out what to say, and a small part of him, one that he will deny even in death, wants you to reply back to him, wants to have a small distraction for a second even if it’s from someone that doesn’t know who he truly is.

Toma:

[I was bored]

He doesn’t have to wait long for your reply, you come eager and begging for his attention, trying to hold on it.

You:

{Yeah, that’s valid}

{What are you up to?}

He wonders if you really are interested in what he’s doing or it it’s courtesy that you’ve extended to him. He bites down on his lip, gnawing on it until it stings as he reads your words. He reasons to himself that there really is no harm in talking to you- this friendship that you’ve made up in your mind won’t go on longer for a month, it’ll stay purely through messaging until one of you grows bored and then you would both part ways- you would go on to live an ordinary life and he would change the world or die trying. But death was never going to be an option for him- he’d bare his teeth and bite until blood was flowing before he would die.

He was aware that he when he messaged, he wasn’t the most expressive person, his replies often one-worded and blunt and even though you messaged him with what he felt was full enthusiasm and adding emoticons, he was going to stick to his messaging style.

Shigaraki let out another sigh. He just wanted to take a break from his notes, for just a second. But he couldn’t shake off your question. Why had he messaged you? Was it simply to feel a bit of normalcy? Last night, you were the one to give him your number, he hadn’t exchanged his so he could have easily not have messaged you. But he was bored and exhausted from finding a flaw in every plan, angry dark marks etched on the paper, balls of crumbled up paper littering the floor, and broken pencils. He clears his throat. He just wanted a second of mindless distraction.

He ponders if he should actually tell you what he really is doing, he wonders if you’d take him seriously or if you’d think he was joking and play along. But he can’t risk it. Not unless he could dispose of you right away. The chair creaks as he leans back on it, staring at your message, he makes something up- a simple mundane task that everyone does.

Toma:

[Grocery shopping]

On the other side of the screen, you perked up. Messaging wasn’t always your strongest suit, you had enough trouble reading people’s intentions and tone when you were face to face to face with them. But to add a screen in between the parties with no tone control, just words that could have been spoken in a number of ways, it made you nervous. You were always left wondering if the other people on the side of screen had wanted to stop the conversation, if your sarcasm was reached over with the help of an emoticon or if the messaged had made you seem like stuck-up.

Messaging with the stranger that you had met online certainly didn’t help ease your worries. He was always harsh when you two would play. There was always a hint of annoyance, a backhanded compliment tossed at you every now and then, a snide remark when someone would mess up. It was easy to say that he wasn’t the nicest and yet, you still offered to message him, to talk to him more and reach out a hand towards him. And he took your hand. You didn’t want this acquaintanceship to die of so quickly, you didn’t want to read every word he sent you through scrutinizing eyes, you just wanted to talk to him for a bit.

“Just don’t overthink it. Don’t be so weird about it,” you told yourself, letting out a breath.

You:

Oh, that’s neat! What are you getting?

I need to go shopping soon. My snack stash is running low:(((

The sandwich at the table looked unappetizing. You were so awful at making conversation it was almost funny. Almost.

The phone buzzed against the table; the loud, shrill noise making you cringe and gulp down the last bits of your drink.

Toma

[Snack stash?]

He was dodging the question. The innate want of wanting to pry bubbled up but you were aware that it was an odd thing to ask why a person wanted to avoid such a simple question so you buried the feeling down. There was no point in making a mountain out a mole hill.

You:

{Yeah, a stash with all my favorite snacks}

{I don’t like going out too often so I always make sure that I have plenty of snacks to last me a while}

{Plus it’s good practice for self-control lmao}

His replies stopped shortly after that. Your fingers nervously tapped on the counter as you waited, perking up when your phone buzzed but deflating when it was another notification. You shook your head. You didn’t want to be so caught up on messaging one person. You shouldn’t get your feelings hurt over something so trivial. You wanted to believe those words but it was hard to. You didn’t know why he had such an effect on you; it wasn’t like you’ve seen his face or had an actual conversation with him. But the thought of the potential friendship was nice.

A low groan was held in the back of your throat. Your hands raided the pantry, pulling out bags of chips that contained crumbs, crackers, a box with one packet of fruit gummies. Your shoulders drooped and you glanced at your phone once more. You glanced out the window and clicked your tongue.

It wasn’t too late. There was still a bit of daylight out, the streetlights illuminating the streets with a soft orange glow. “I need more snacks,” you whispered to yourself, your hand touching your stomach and clenching the fabric of your shirt.

Leaves crunched under your foot, weeds in between cracks flattening and blowing with what little breeze was out. The sun was setting casting the city is a deep orange and pink glow. It wasn’t a long walk from where you lived to the nearest convenience store, your bag bounced against your hip as  you walked, your phone placed inside to keep from falling out of your back pocket. The wind rustled your hair, a fresh breeze that cooled you down from the humidity in the air.

You had your head in the clouds, making a mental check list on the things you needed. You clicked your tongue, pulling a sour face and regretting that you didn’t properly check your cabinets before you left. However, when you were at your apartment, you were busy thinking about other things- or rather someone else. You started thinking about your new online friend for what must’ve been an unhealthy amount of times in the time that you’ve known him. You wanted to know more about him but you knew that if you pushed he would’ve retreated. You had a forlorn look on your face as you thought about what you could do to improve the friendship between the both of you but you felt sick about forcing him into a friendship that he didn’t want.

A bell interrupted your thoughts as you entered the store. The cold air from the air conditioner provided you relief from the outside. The cashier welcomed you, meeting your eyes for a brief second before they continued their transaction with an already existing customer. There was a current pop song playing low in the speakers, the lyrics filling your mind and pushing out any other thoughts. You smiled back at them, waving your hand before grabbing a plastic basket and walking in between the aisles, your hands picking things up and dropping them in the basket.

You made your way to the back of the store, the chill air coming from the freezers making the hair on your arms stand on their ends. Your eyes analyzed the doors, looking for any other treats you’d might like, frost creeping from edges of the door to the center. Plastic snowflakes and little stickers of soda bottles and tubs of ice cream with smiling faces decorated the frosty doors.

You licked your lips and looked down at your full basket. You shook your head and decided to get the frozen treats, opting to walk quickly back home so the treats wouldn’t freeze. The condensation expels from the door, your eyes narrowing as it stings you.

There’s movement in the corner of your eyes and you see a figure standing a door away from you. Their back was hunched and a hand was placed on their chin, eyes scanning the chilled food that laid inside. His eyes made eye contact and you smiled nervously, quickly returning your gaze and grabbing the ice pops inside. You scurried off to the register, hand clutching the handle of the bag tight.

The cashier made small talk with you, commenting about the day and scanning the items and placing them in a plastic bag. You heard steps approach behind you and handed the cashier the money, telling them thank you and to have a good day.

Dark clouds covered the sky, a chill wind has replaced the humidity, and you begin your trek back home. You smile at passing people, the bags heavy in your hands there’s a fear that they’ll rip from the handles before you reach your place. Cars drive past you, yellow and white lights illuminating you for a second and casting shadows that stretch across the concrete.

A large shadow appears behind you, overtaking your own shadow and it stills when you pause in your steps. You straighten your back and turn around, eyes widening for a split second before you smile at the man behind you.

He’s lanky and tall, limbs look a bit too long and he has short cropped hair. He smiles back at you and it sends a chill down your spine. He’s the same guy from the freezer aisle. You notice there’s less people around, the cars passing by in fewer numbers and you speed our pace. Thunder cracks overhead and the smell of rain fills the air. The steps behind you quicken. Your jaw tightens and you try to force yourself to relax. The odds of being interrupted in your commute are low. It’s about to rain so maybe they’re just running for cover.

“Hi!” His voice is cheery and eyes are wide. “Listen, I saw you in the store.” His hands are moving as he talks and he matches your pace. He either fails to notice the look of discomfort on your face or he simply doesn’t care. You glance around trying to find someone who could help you but the streets are empty, wind rustles and picks up fallen leaves making them dance in the wind. He babbles on, pausing when you do and he shoves his hands in his pocket but his arms are still moving.

“I-uh, listen,” you try to interject but he continues to talk, his voice speaking over yours and it makes you bite the inside of your cheeks. “Listen, I have to go home.” You say firmly, and turn away from the man. You walk away, your feet hurting from the hard stomps on the concrete.

His voice begins to call out to you, and he tells you to wait up but you continue your walk not wanting to look back and it begins to mist. You feel your skin begin to crawl. He stills calls behind you, and you bags in our hand begin to grow heavier. There’s a passing thought that your ice pops might melt. You feel as if you’ve been walking forever, your legs growing tired and chest lacking air, your body heats up and the sound of the thunder covers the man’s voice.

There’s a sharp tug on your elbow, the plastic bags bounce around and hit your thigh. You rip your arm free and the man’s face grows twisted and eyes darken to an amber hue. “Listen, I just wanted to ask for your number,” his tone is annoyed and eyes roll, “but now that you’re acting—”

“Okay! Bye!” You shout, and tug your arm free. You walk away from him quick, the bags slap against you and you just want to head home already.

-

You walk into your apartment, kicking your shoes off and dropping the bags on the floor in the kitchen. You quickly shove the ice pops into the freezer, opting to check their condition later.

Your elbow burns at where you were touched. You gingerly touch the crease of your elbow, fingertips feeling as if they’re touching something that doesn’t belong. You shake your head. You grab a paper towel and wipe your face; the mist from the rain has left your feeling icky and uncomfortable wet.

You grab a pack of sweets from the bag, choosing to put everything away later. Your bag is tossed onto the coffee table falling with a dull thud. You flop onto the couch, the sweets tasting sour on your tongue. It slides down heavy in your throat and you toss the bag on the coffee table.

You think back to what the man had said. He grabs your arm and chases you down from the convenience store because he wanted your number. Bile rises in the back of your throat and you grip your shirt into clumps. You can still feel the clamminess of his hand on your elbow. You swipe it away with a rough drag of your hand.

“I basically did the same thing with Toma,” you whisper to yourself. “Granted it wasn’t as rough but you still bothered him enough.” Your face shines a bright red that burns your face.

You sigh and close your eyes, furrowing your eyebrows together and opening them up when your phone buzzes in your bag. You turn to face it and with lazy movements, you pull it out and glance at the notification. Tomaraki’s name pops up. A smile forms on your face before you smother it down feeling guilty. You click on his notification and his messages fill the screen.

Toma:

[Just do whatever you want]

[Its snacks who gives a fuck]

You:

{Yeah, you’re right}

{Hey, I’m feeling kind of shitty, message me later if ya want}

You don’t have the energy or clear mind to continue a conversation with him and you didn’t want to waste his time if he was busy or something. You laid back on the couch, placing the phone on your chest and you thought that maybe if you fell asleep, you’d wake up feeling better.

“Nothing bad happened to you, just a comment that sounded bad,” you thought to yourself, hands clenching your shirt above your stomach. Your eyes grew heavy and you could feel yourself slipping into a nap when the phone buzzes on your chest. You groan and check the phone, squinting your eyes at the light.

Toma:

[Fine]

You frown and feel worse- the sinking feeling in your stomach grows heavier. What if he thought that you were mad at him because he replied late? What if he thought that you didn’t want to talk to him anymore? Oh god. You really hated overthinking. Your covers your eyes with the balls of your hands, colors pop behind your closed eyelids.

You:

{I just had a shitty encounter is all, I’ll feel better after I nap}

{Message me in like an hour if you want:P}

Shigaraki stares at his phone annoyance. He hadn’t asked for an explanation but he did feel a bit more at ease. From the few conversations that you have had with him, you had always seemed rather chipper, like an excitable pup, albeit a bit awkward but you never really seemed to be in a bad mood. A part of him wanted to know what happened and he knew that if he asked, you would tell him.

Toma:

[What happened?]

Your eyes furrowed at the message. You wanted to tell him but it’s not like it was a big deal, it was just uncomfortable and the aftereffects are what made you more upset than anything else.

You:

[I’ll tell you if you call me lmao]

You groaned immediately after sending that message. However, you reasoned to yourself that he wouldn’t call you- he barely wanted to have a video chat with you.

-

In the make-shift living room, where Shigaraki sat with the other members, he stared at his phone glancing around at everyone and humming when they were engrossed in their activities. Dabi Mr. Compress, Twice and Spinner were playing a game of cards, a stench of smoke filling the air, while Toga was painting her nails, blowing on them gently and snickering when she looks at Dabi’s cards, a harsh shush and sparks flying from his mouth.

Looking back down at his phone, Shigaraki stood up and made his way towards his living room, waving his hand when Toga yelled goodnight. He locks the door behind him and sat on the chair in his bedroom. He stares at your message, unblinking and deciding “screw it”, as he pushes the call button. The call rang for a moment too long and for a second he thought it was going to go to voicemail. And then he heard your voice.

“Hello?” You sound puzzled.

“What happened?” He decides to get to the point.

“Oh!” You could feel embarrassment flood your face. You laugh nervously and it cuts off too soon. “It isn’t- It’s not anything big. It-it’s dumb. It’s not like anything happened, it’s just me being stupid like always, ha,” you giggled nervously, your voice trailing off towards the end. “It really isn’t anything big. It was just a weird thing.” He can hear your nervousness through the phone, you sound out of breath and he hears fabric rustling in the background.

“Tell me.” He’s losing his patience. Why bother to tease him something and then not even commit to telling him?

You sighed into the phone, and you rationalized to yourself that he wouldn’t care. That maybe afterwards you two could talk about something else and that you’d forget the whole thing that wasn’t really a thing. But even that thought weighs you down.

You let out a shaky breath; your voice is low and hesitant. “So, I was running low on snacks, right? And I went to the closest convenience store which is like fifteen minutes by foot. And like, I buy my things and like when I’m walking home a guy keeps trying to talk to me and I’m just uncomfortable and I walk away and then he grabs my elbow and he like basically wanted my number and—” a lump grows in your throat— “Why do you keep talking to me? You don’t have to. I don’t want it to be like I’m forcing you to talk to me. I’m sure you’re busy with other things and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me.” You bite down on your lip, gnawing on it till you feel the raw flesh sting. “I’m being dumb again.” You bite down on the raw spot on your lip, feeling a faint metallic taste linger on your lips. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

He’s at a loss for words. He’s tongue flicks out and licks his chapped lips. He’s silent for a while, eyes darting around the room hoping to find an answer hidden in there. “That’s dumb.” His reply is harsh.

“What part?” You whisper, tracing the edge of the phone with your finger.

“I’m still talking to you, aren’t I? If I didn’t want to talk to you I wouldn’t have fucking called or even messaged you,” he snaps. He grits his teeth and a free hand scratches his neck, dull red lines appearing and growing brighter until it stings. “It’s fucking dumb of you to ask.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and the sick feeling in your stomach has begun to lessen. “I just didn’t want it to be like I was twisting your arm is all,” you chuckle dryly.

“Well you’re not,” he huffed.

“Thanks. For like the confirmation,” you speak softly, curling in on yourself on the torture. “It uh, it means a lot.”

He scoffs into the receiver. The hands on his neck have stopped scratching; his fingertips rub at the sore spots. His chest tightens and he tells you to shut up.

“No, no. I mean it. I know it’s dumb but it just- I appreciate knowing that you aren’t like being forced to talk to me. I know I probably came off too strong and maybe you felt like you had to say yes so I like knowing that you aren’t forced to talk to me,” you ramble, ears tinged red.

His hands twitch and nails scratch at the wounds. He hisses in pain and teeth grit, his opens into a palm and he applies pressure to his neck.

“Are you okay?” You voice is frantic and you rise from your position. “Toma, you good?”

He hesitates for a second. “Yeah, I’m fine.” His eyes scan the room. “I hit my knee on my desk.”

“Ouch. I have this coffee table that I keep bumping into so it has a bunch of dents and chipped off paint but it really ties in the room together so the pain is worth it.” The lump in your throat has disappeared and you reach over to grab the bag of sweets, popping one in your mouth as you speak. “I think I might get those like baby proof things.” You crinkle the bag in your hand and take a deep breath. “Can you tell me about your day?” Your voice is soft and he can hear plastic in the background.

“Why?”

“I told you about my day,” you shrug. “Plus, I just want to hear your voice for a little while.” You snuggled deeper into the couch, curling in on yourself, and lay the phone on the couch. “Indulge me. I told you about my day, you tell me yours.”

He wanted to tell you to fuck off, that the only reason he got curious about your day was because you had been cryptic with yours. He bit at his bottom lip, his eyes casted to the right for a right a brief second. He’s quiet for a long time- he can hear you shift around on the other side of the phone and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“It wasn’t anything special.” He starts off slow, choosing his words correctly. “Woke up. Did stuff. And now I’m talking to you.”

You roll your eyes. “Vague as usual.” You click your tongue. “You didn’t play the game today?”

“Hadn’t thought about it.” He’s honest with you for once.

You let out a sharp laugh, stretching in the couch before turning over on your stomach, resting your chin on your hands and your phone now moved in front of you, leaning against the armrest. “Yeah? I’m surprised. With a level and stats as high as yours, I pegged you as the type to play that game every chance you had.”  You twirl your finger on the air, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I had other things to do.” He says- his tone a tad defensive.

“Oh?” Your voice rises in pitch. “Oh, right, right. You did “stuff” today. How could I ever forget your descriptive storytelling. Silly me.” Your voice has a kittenish quality. “So, despite having to do- what I’m sure is gruesome stuff- how has your day been so far?”

He doesn’t secretly dream of having a normal life- a life where he isn’t a villain, where his quirk isn’t something that can cause mass destruction- he doesn’t want any of that. He has a goal that he needs to reach. He has his life set out in front of him. But talking to you, as much as he hates it, doesn’t fill with him with dread or anxiety. It isn’t an overbearing weight that it once was, it feels lighter. He doesn’t want to know about your personal life, he doesn’t want to hear to hear you laugh. He doesn’t want to hear you say that you want hear his voice.

“Toma? You there?” You whisper, your voice gentle.

“I’m here,” he rasps out. He doesn’t want to be here.

“Wanna hear what I’m planning to do tomorrow?” You ask timidly.

You don’t wait for a reply. Instead, you start to talk about your plans for tomorrow. You talk about how you’ll try to wake up early, maybe do some yoga if it’s early enough. Or how you’ll make a simple breakfast; how you’ve been dying to try to make fluffy pancakes but you never have the motivation to actually make breakfast so you usually eat some fruit or pastry that you have lying around. You mention how you’ll call your other friends and ask to hang out or maybe just have a group call and talk about nothing and everything all at once. You laugh a bit when you talk about your friends. You mention how the call usually lasts for hours- the most being six- and how you’re always tired the next day, how you have a headache that’s caused by lack of sleep but you never regret the calls. You giggle at the end of that tangent and mention that it’s a dumb inside joke where you’ll start to complain four hours in that you’re tired but the call will keep going and towards the end of the call you’ll start getting sarcastic when they mention that they’re tired. You try to stifle your giggles and change topics to move on to what you might eat tonight- that you aren’t in the mood for anything too heavy, but you don’t want any fast food. You ask for his opinion on what he should eat and he mentions ordering ramen. You nod and tell him that’s a good idea. You talk about everything to him; you’re so open with this stranger that you don’t even know the name of. And he tells you this. There’s no bite to his voice, no insult ready to strike at you; just an observation.

You hesitate to answer. You tap on your phone, the screen lighting up. You’ve been on the call for a little over an hour and half. The corner of your mouth twitches.

“I don’t know.” It’s the truth. “I think… I think I was just really lonely that night.” The words are heavy on your tongue. “I mean, we had talked beforehand. When we did missions and stuff. We did team ups often enough and I guess I grew to like being around you. Or, er, talking to you.” You rub your lip between your teeth. “I mean, I’m okay not knowing your name. It isn’t like I’ve told you much about myself. You only know my first name and face but you don’t know where I live or my full name so,” you trail off, unsure how to end. “You aren’t really a stranger. I may not know your actual name but I’m gonna take a guess and say that the name you gave me has to be similar to your actual name.” You aren’t exactly wrong. “And I don’t know. Some people are,” you try to choose your next words carefully, “insecure of how they look. So I don’t really hold it against you if you don’t want me to see your actual face, ya know? Or even if it’s a privacy thing. I get it.” There’s silence on his end. “Did that make sense?”

He mumbles his agreement. Not all of it made for sound logic but it was logical to you, you gave your reasons and while they weren’t exactly the strongest, you stuck by them. He bends his head down and he clicks his tongue.

Twice knocks on his door and enters after a second has passed. Shigaraki twists his body and stares as Twice jerks his thumb over his shoulder and says that everyone is itching for something to do and every word after that is inaudible. He’s sitting at an angle, the phone that is pressed up against his ear, is hidden by his hair. You’re back to talking, unaware that Shigaraki has been interrupted, and he’s tuning out every word Twice is saying, only giving him a shake of the hand to indicate that he’ll be there, wherever there is, later. The door slams behind him and you ask what that was. He replies that he dropped something. You nod your head, only to give a verbal acknowledgement when you remember that he can’t see you.

“So, we’ve been talking for a while,” you breathe out. “Do you want to stop? I don’t mind talking to you for longer but I just wanted to make sure you weren’t bored of me yet.” You chuckle at the end, it’s a bit unsure but not totally humorless.

Shigaraki squints his eyes and pulls the phone away from him. Ten minutes until two hours. You two have been talking to close to two hours. Or rather, you talked for two hours while he listened.

“I uh, didn’t mean to talk for so long, heh.” You chuckle again and this time it’s humorless. “Next time you can talk and I’ll just listen.” You take off the speaker and press the phone close to your ear. You pull your knees up to your chest and rest your head on them.

Two months of group missions. Two weeks of missions done together alone. One late night call. Half a day of messaging. One two hour call.

“Toma, you there?” Your voice is back to being soft again. It reminds him of something he once craved for and thinking about it makes his head hurt. It unsettles him and he can’t think straight.

“Tomura.” His voice is too low. You almost didn’t catch it. You’re surprised you did.

“Tomura?” You question what this means. Is it a code or is it- oh.

You say his name again. Just above a whisper. The name is heavy on your tongue. And then you hear a click and the line is empty. You blink one. Twice. Your eyes are wide like owls and you mouth his name. And then you let out a shaky breath, the corner of your lips twitching upwards before allowing a full grin to take over.

“Tomura.” You click your tongue and rise up from the couch. Your fingers type at the screen and his name stares up at you. “It’s a nice name.”

Tagged:

@noonewouldlisten25

@yul-is-sparkling

@loveableasshole

@rogueofbullshit

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! Completed stories are planned to be posted all through December and most likely into January, so if you don’t want to see them you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories!

I received this request from @atlasistryingherbest​, I hope you like it!

All Dolled Up

Summary: Fearing Roman’s newfound obsessions after the events of SvS Redux, Patton decides to break things off with him before they can get worse. If only he realized just how bad it could be. Written as a request from tumblr.

Warnings: bruises, forced confinement, threatening with a weapon, unsympathetic -if there are more let me know

Ships: Royality, Roman x Patton

Prompt: Defeated and Trophified

“You can’t-!”

“Roman!” Patton reached out to him with a desperate plea, trying to scramble to find the right words that would make all of this okay. “Everything’s gonna be okay, kiddo.’

Mentally berating himself as hurt flashed in Roman’s eyes he nevertheless held his gaze in earnest. “We love you.”

“Right.” Thoroughly dejected Patton watched as Roman sunk out, shame tinting his cheeks as he tried to make it seem like he had everything together, despite the lesson he had just learned not ten minutes before. He was grateful as Janus and Thomas reassured him but  he couldn’t keep his thoughts from drifting to the image of Roman alone in his room, having to ride out his conflicting emotions on his own and the miserable expression never leaving his face as he did so. That wasn’t the way to leave things with the prince, that wasn’t the way to leave things with anyone but especially someone he cared so deeply for and shared so much with.

Mind made up after he was sure Thomas would be alright with Janus he quickly sunk out to the regular common room, seeing no sign of anyone let alone Roman he made his way up the stairs and towards the door he had walked to so many times it was muscle memory at this point. All the sides had different kinds of relationships with each other, whether it  was familial, platonic or romantic and Patton and Roman were certainly no exception. With their shared enthusiasm fo the things they were interested, their strong urge to take care of the members of their family and Thomas and their passion to make other happy no matter what it was never really a stretch to imagine the two of them together; so it came as a surprise to know one when just that ended up happening. 

The mindscape had certainly been a brighter, happier place since they had made their relationship official, even if Virgil did cringe and scoff teasingly while Logan simply rolled his eyes and requested if they they were going to engage in public displays of affection then to please do it elsewhere or at least warn him so he could leave the room. Hand holding, hugs from behind, cheesy musical numbers, forehead touches, cuddles at movie night- nothing was below them when it came to showing their love for one another. But everything started to change when Janus began to come around, especially since Patton was the first one he had impersonated.It had hit Roman hard that he hadn’t recognized the deceitful side until later on ,and no amount of Patton telling him that that’s what he did and was supposed to do and he wouldn't be Deceit if he wasn’t good at well...deceiving could convince Roman of anything other than Janus was a horrible person from that day forward. A villain meant to be shunned and punished like any other Disney villain should be. At first Patton had somewhat agreed with him but as time passed he began to doubt that notion more and more...until today he realized he needed to take a step back and really evaluate what it was that Janus contributed to their family as a whole.

He lamented his mistakes of how he handled Janus’ situation- all of the “dark sides” situations really. All they were doing was their jobs how they knew how to do them, and maybe their methods were a bit misguided but so were his own to an extent. He needed to learn how to adapt and let go of past misconceptions- and that came with getting Roman to understand that as well.

He stopped short of knocking on the Prince’s door to listen for any sound coming through, from his or any of the other doors. He figured Logan wouldn’t be particularly happy to have been dismissed and replaced yet again but that was something to unpack and fix on another day. So Logan and Virgil would most likely be boiled up in their respective rooms waiting for the figurative fire to die down before venturing out again. Remus was most likely preoccupied with something Janus had left him to keep him busy and away from making Thomas’ mental state even more scattered than it already was and Janus himself was going to be occupied with their manifestor for at least a couple more hours after everything that had happened. He and Roman would have plenty of time to themselves then to work out what needed worked out for them to hopefully be okay again. 

Taking a deep breath he tentatively knocked on the door and, hearing no answer, knocked a bit more firmly before easing it open and glancing quickly around the room before his gaze landed on Roman. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, still in his rumpled prince costume with his hands folded between his knees and his eyes shining with unshed tears as he made stubborn, steady eye contact with the floor. Patton sighed quietly as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and carefully stepping over to sit beside the other. 

“Roman-”

“Am I-”

They both stopped as they started at the same time, Roman ducking his head down further and angrily swiping tears off his cheeks. Patton was thankful when the hand he placed on the others knee was left there, looking back up at Roman’s face and smiling kindly. “Go on Roman, I wanted to hear your thoughts.”

“You’re about the only one.” Roman muttered, looking away and towards the door as if debating how quickly he could run and hide somewhere else before his shoulders dropped as he resigned himself to his fate. “Patton, am I..am I still needed?”

Patton gasped quietly, squeezing his knee tightly. “Of course, why would you think-”

“Because if Deciet is coming around, being accepted...if he’s going to be a part of things now...I don’t know what that means for us. For Thomas.” Roman finally turned to face him, his eyes shining earnestly. “I always thought him the villain, someone to vanquish when his deceitful means seeped into the mindspace too much, someone to wave my sword at to defend my and everyone else's honor. But if he isn’t the villain...and I was in the wrong...doesn’t that then make me-”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” Patton gently took Roma’s face in his hands and leaned closer, making sure to capture his eyes. “You are not the villain Roamn, you never could be. Sometimes...well sometimes there doesn’t even have to be one and that’s okay. Things are changing and that’s okay.”

Roman scoffed quietly. “Patton, you’re the one who likes change the least out of all of us.”

“Which is why I’m the one that needs it the most.” Roman was quiet at that, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Patton’s softly, making him small and moving his hands from Roman’s cheeks to loop around the back of his neck gently. It was comforting and quiet, neither of them wanting to move and speak again in fear of ruining the temporary standstill they had come to. Eventually Patton shifted, pressing his lips softly to the prince’s nose and smiling when he was rewarded with a soft laugh. 

“It’ll be okay, Roman you’ll see. Everything always works itself out.”

“But what if something happens? We can’t just leave him with Thomas.”

Patton grinned at him sheepishly. “Well...he’s already with Thoams and has been since I left. Nothing bad has happened yet has it?”

Roman’s lips thinned as he looked down at his lap, twisting his fingers in an uncharacteristically nervous way. “What does that mean for me? I- I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” He looked up imploringly. “You- Patton you need to be there when I mess up. I still trust you to know right from wrong and if you’re there to keep me in check I’ll be their hero again!”

“That’s not quite how-”

“No it’s perfect; I’ll just tell you everything I’ll do before I do it and you can say yes or no and then I won’t mess up again!”

“Sweetheart I can’t do that.”

“Patton no you have to! Everyone already hates me, I have to do better, I can’t just- not be better.”

Patton grasped his hands and squeezed, hoping to distract Roman from his spiraling thoughts. “Nobody hates you honey, I swear on my honor as a side of Thomas. But I can’t be there all the time. We’re going to make mistakes going forward, and the ones we’ve already made are still going to hurt, but all we can do is try our best and let that be enough. I wasn’t lying when I said we still love you.”

He brought Roman’s hands up to his lips and planted a chaste kiss on the knuckles. “And I will never lie when I say I still love you, Roman. We aren’t our mistakes, we are the growth that comes from them. It’s going to be okay.”

Patton wasn’t sure if Roman truly understood but accepted the other nodding his head anyway, even if Roman did look incredibly deep in thought. It had been a long day for all of them, they both just needed some rest and hope that the next day would be a better one. Nodding to himself, Patton stood and gently ran his fingers through Roman's hair. “It’s getting late. Wanna watch a movie and cuddle before bed?”

Roman leaned into the gesture and moved to reach for his laptop; Patton, taking that as an agreement, snapped them both into their pajamas and summoned a fluffier blanket for them to snuggle under. Any more conversation could wait for tomorrow, now was the time to wind down with his favorite person in the mindscape.

-----

The next few days...weeks...worries Patton to say the least.

Roman could never be found less than a few feet from his side, and although he’d usually find it sweet and endearing the way his every movement was tracked like he was small prey being hunted had begun to make him twitchy. If the others noticed they didn’t say anything, which made Patton feel as if he was simply overreacting and just more jumpy than usual from the frog incident. He giggled at the thought- that would certainly make sense.

But it wasn't just that. Despite their heart to heart Roman was consulting him before nearly every decision he made, down to whether he put creamer in his coffee since that might be taking away from the others. Patton had hoped this phase would only last a couple of days and then they could move on but it honestly didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. He was loath to speak to the others about it since everyone was still a bit touchy and Roman couldn’t be shaken long enough to talk to anyone else in private anyway. Which left talking to Roam about it himself.

Which Patton...also didn’t want to do. He loved Roman with his entire being, and their relationship had always been a steady, even give and take. They had pretty good communication considering their individual track records and always made sure to set and respect boundaries, but with Roman being a bit testier...to say the least. More demandant for answers that Patton simply didn’t want or feel the need to give. Picking what T.V. show to watch, especially if it was just the two of them was not an entire dilemma that needed solving before they could move on!

And yet...when he didn’t answer, Roman had started to get more and more demandant. Throughout their relationship Roman had never once raised his voice at him, but it was becoming more and more a constant occurrence. He needed constant reassurance that he was doing fine and no one hated him and Patton still loved him which he would normally be happy to give, but it was so much. It was too much for any side alone to undertake upholding an entire sides’ mental health. To the point where he could feel his own slipping, and still he said nothing. For the first time in his existence Patton was almost...afraid of Roman. He had so many outbursts now and his movements towards Patton were always so jerky and it made him twitch away which only meant Roamn needed more reassurance and so the cycle continued. But enough was enough.

Breaking things off with Roman was surprisingly easy for how much his stomach was twisting with the nerves. Roman remained passive through it, expression so neutral you could pretend they were discussing the weather or what tp have for breakfast the next day. He was so afraid, so ready to have to call on another side for help, but he shouldn't have and he immediately felt incredibly silly for even having the thoughts. This was Roman, and Roman would never hurt him no matter how much he was spiraling right now. He’d wait a little longer for everything to cool off and then they’d have a meeting and discuss how to move forward. Simple. Then maybe when both he and Roman gained more solid ground to stand on they could try again and everything would fall perfectly back into place.

-----

That night Patton crawled into bed alone for the first time in years, missing the warmth of strong arms wrapped around his middle and holding him close until morning. He consoled himself with the thought that things weren’t completely over between them; it was just a small break. Everybody needed those from time to time and Roman had understood completely. He had just settled in to sleep for the night when his eyes snapped open suddenly. What was that?

He sat up in bed and listened carefully, sure he hadn’t been imagining the sound. Just as he was about to shrug it off and lay back down he heard it again faintly.

“Patton.”

The voice was so faint but now that he had heard it there was no mistaking it. Ripping off the bed sheets he hurried to his door and swung it open, listening carefully to hear the voice again.

“Patton.”

Moving to the stairs and rushing down them he turned into the living room and gasped at what he saw before him.

“Patton.” Janus’ voice was relieved but pained, tugging at the restraints that held him fast to the back of the rather small cage he was being held in. Dark bruises littered his face and his eyes blinked slowly as he struggled to focus on Patton. Rushing to the door of the cage Patton fiddled with lock as he looked desperately around for a key, his mind whirling too fast to form a coherent thought.

“Janus who did this? How can I get you out?”

“Patton you need to leave me.”

“I- what?” But you called me down, he wanted to say, shaking the thought away. Janus was clearly in no position to voice coherent thoughts. “No. We need to get you out. Do you know where the key is? We can start there.”

“You need to leave, I deserve this. I’m the villain- I deserve to be punished.”

Patton’s eyes widened, shaking his head vehemently. “No. No, you don’t, don’t talk like that. You deserve just as much as any other side and right now that means not being locked in a cage.”

Janus coughed out a laugh weakly. “Are you sure about that?”

“Of course, honey. Let me just-” Frustrated Patton shook the bars of the cage, pausing when Janus locked eyes with him, a steady glare boring into his very being.

“Wrong choice, love.”

-----

Patton cowered in the far corner of the cage, eyes tracking Roman’s pacing fearfully as his wrists rubbed raw above his head. He still couldn’t dispel the image of Janus’ face melting into Roman’s, the cage falling apart only to wrap around and trap him instead as Roamn had straightened in front of him, eyes filled with nothing but passive disdain as Patton had pleaded desperately, mind confusingly fuzzy and still trying to comprehend what had happened. The had sunk out into Roman’s room, where he had been pulled to the far side of the cage and tied to the bars so that there was no chance of jiggling the lock on the far side to escape, leaving him trapped and scared and at the mercy of whatever it was Roman had become in the face of his perceived rejection.

Suddenly a knock was heard at the door, Patton tensing as the tip of Roman’s sword was thrust in front of his face.

“Roman? Patton? It’s after 9, Lo made breakfast.” Virgil’s voice came through the door. Roman nodded his head, an unspoken warning in his eyes as he gestured for Patton to go ahead. 

Swallowing hard, Patton called out. “We’re both in here kiddo! Just- finishing up a project; might take a bit though.” He struggled to contain himself, to contain the anxiety rolling off him in waves so Virgil wouldn’t sense it and god forbid become suspicious. He needed to keep everyone safe, even at his own cost. 

There was a pause, and then: “Are you guys sure? I can bring something up.”

“No need hun, thank you though. We’ll get something in a bit.”

“Okay.” They both listened as the footsteps faded away before Roman turned to face Patton, grinning wickedly.

“So, my heart; what is it that we’re doing today?”

Patton swallowed against, tears pricking at his eyes. “Getting rid of Jan- Deceit.”

“Good.” Roman moved the sword to gently caress his cheek. “And you’re going to do exactly as I say. I’d hate for this beautiful face to become just as deformed as that snake’s.”

He snapped his fingers and Patton’s pajamas were changed out for his regular attire, albeit a nicer variation of it. He could feel makeup cake his face thinly and he knew from the weight in his hair that his favorite barrettes had been pinned in neatly. Roman smiled and reached in to cup his cheek gently and Patton felt himself leaning into the touch despite the spike of fear he felt. 

“There,” The prince crooned. “A sweet little doll to puppet as I please. Deceit never could resist coming too close to what was out of his league now could he?”

Stifling a sob by biting his lip Patton could only watch as Roman moved away to begin concocting another illusion that would draw in Janus later that day. Hanging his head in shame, he sagged against his confines, feeling the ropes dig into his wrists and the cage run painfully against his spine. A useless doll thrown to a corner, forgotten in its disuse after its purpose was met.

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