#back when I was in my old fandom my phone used to constantly insult my taste in comfort characters

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

Have I ever mentioned how much my phone hates me? Because I have a Google doc full of examples that I just realized I can post some of here:

Me: *tries to swipe type a character's name*

"The weather is quite nice today." Said Fae.

Phone: "Nah"

"The weather is quite nice today." Said *far*.

Me: "Ugh, no Phone."

Me: *adds the OC's name to the dictionary so my phone can't mess it up again*

Me: *continues writing scene*

"Which is good because to get to the city we'll have to walk pretty far." She continued.

Phone: "..."

Phone: "... ..."

"Which is good because to get to the city we'll have to walk pretty *Fae*." She continued.

Me: "Why do you do this to me?"

~

Me: *writes a sentence*

That person looks ill.

Phone: "hmm... that looks like an I'll to me."

Me: "wait no-"

That person looks I'll.

Phone: "..."

Phone: "Stupid human, you got the grammar wrong again!" *adds wavy error line*

Me: *screams*

~

Me: *writing a really dramatic scene*

It had all been for nothing, the war was over an they had lost. Everyone they loved was dead. They wanted to give up but-

Phone: "haha, you said butt XD"

Me: "No I didn't—

Me: "Wait-what the heck?!"

They wanted to give up *butt butt BUTT*

~

Me: "I want this character to honestly say they aren't drunk."

Phone: "Cool. This is how sober people talk, right?"

"I'm not drilunks!"

Me: "Now even I don't believe them."

~

Me: *writes a perfectly normal sentence*

The two girls were best friends, they always got ice cream together on weekends.

Me: *checks for wiggly you-got-this-wrong lines*

Phone: "There are no errors :)"

Me: "Cool" *continues writing*

Me: *rereads old sentence minutes when done to make sure it flows well with the rest of the paragraph*

The two grills were breast friends, they appears good ice cream tiger on weekends.

Me: "PHONE."

~

Me: *writes the word edge*

Phone: "Um... So you wrote that wrong."

Me: *checks, sees the word edge*

Me: "... No, that's definitely right :\ "

Phone: "No it's not."

Me: "Phone. Seriously. It's literally four letters long, I think I would be able to tell if I typoed it."

Phone: "I don't know what to tell you, bc it's definitely wrong."

Me: ">:("

Me: "Fine! I'll read it out to you, because apparently you can't read."

Me: "E-"

Me: "G-"

Me: "D-"

Me: "e..."

Me: "..."

Me: "...okay yeah maybe i did typo it this time"

[angelofrainfrogs]

And They Were Flatmates...

Fandoms: The Bartimaeus Trilogy (Modern College AU)

Description: Kitty is studying for midterms at a café when a familiar face asks to sit at her table. The boy turns out to be her flatmate’s brother, and their chance meeting leads to some interesting revelations and the beginning of a new friendship. 

Rating: K+

Genre: General/Humor

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736820

This story was written for @avaenox during the 2020 Bartimaeus Fic Exchange. Check out the collection here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Bartimaeus_Exchange_2020

“Oh my god, will you shut up?!” Kitty hissed at her phone, glaring as notification after notification popped up in quick succession.

“I haven’t said anything yet, but message received,” a soft voice responded. Kitty jumped, startled, and noticed a boy standing next to her table, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Kitty’s mouth fell open in shock.

“…Bartimaeus?” she asked slowly, utterly confused. This boy looked nearly identical to the flatmate who was currently blowing up her phone, if a tad younger.

The boy laughed, a bright sound, and Kitty couldn’t help but a smile a little in response.

“No, not Bartimaeus, but I certainly know him,” the boy said. He gestured to the open seat across from Kitty and she nodded, quickly gathering up the plethora of books she’d scattered across the tabletop. The boy sat down and shrugged off his backpack, then placed his coffee on the table and held out his other hand to Kitty. “My name is Ptolemy.”

“Kitty,” she responded, shaking his hand. The name struck a chord, though she couldn’t immediately place where it came from. She raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her own coffee before asking, “I’m assuming you and Bartimaeus are related?”

“Yes, he’s my older brother,” Ptolemy replied, gesturing to himself with a laugh. “If it wasn’t obvious.”

“Oh!” Kitty exclaimed, slapping a palm to her forehead. “Oh my god, Ptolemy! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize the name, wow… Nice to finally meet you!”

“I take it Bartimaeus has mentioned me, then?” Ptolemy asked, and Kitty rolled her eyes exasperatedly, though there was no real malice in the action.

“Only all the time.”

Ptolemy grimaced, then took a big swig of coffee before responding. “Yes, that’s sort of why I wanted to get a different roommate this year… I do love him, but he definitely takes the overprotective big brother roll to the extreme.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Kitty said, and Ptolemy’s expression shifted to one of mild concern.

“I hope he’s not causing you too much trouble…”

“Oh no, no!” Kitty shook her head, needing to wipe that expression off Ptolemy’s face immediately. It looked wrong for him to be upset. “I mean, I’ll admit he can be a handful, but he’s alright 80% of the time.”

“Wow, that’s much better than I was expecting.” Ptolemy nodded somberly, then met Kitty’s gaze and they both broke out into a round of giggles.

“I’m sorry if I distracted you, by the way,” Ptolemy said once they’d settled down. He gestured to Kitty’s collection of textbooks and notes. “I had actually meant to talk to you, but only to ask if I could sit here and do my own work; this is the only available spot in the café.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kitty responded, waving away his apology. “I was losing focus anyway; I’ve been trying to write this paper for hours and I don’t know how much more my mind can handle today.”

“Ah, yes—midterms.” Ptolemy dug around in his backpack and brought out a humongous textbook. It was obviously quite heavy, because he barely got it over the table before it slipped from his grip and landed just shy of his coffee cup with a loud bang! In unison, all patrons in the shop turned towards their corner as Ptolemy’s eyes widened in embarrassment.

“Oops,” he murmured, then gestured to the offending book. “This ethics book has been the bane of my existence for the past two weeks.”

“I can imagine,” Kitty responded, grimacing at the plethora of colored tabs sticking out of the pages.

“Yes… although, I have to say I’m not nearly as stressed as my flatmate.” A haunted look flashed across Ptolemy’s face so quickly Kitty thought she imagined it. “He’s been absolutely losing his mind, poor thing… that’s why I figured I’d get out and try to do some work at the nearby café.”

“To escape for a bit?” Kitty took a sip of coffee, glancing at him knowingly over the rim of her cup, and Ptolemy tried to suppress another pained grimace.

“To give him some space,” he corrected. Then, after a pause, he added, “And yes, to give myself a few hours of sanity as well.”

“It’s that bad, huh?”

“Well, by this point I’m used to the way he acts when he gets overly stressed—which, unfortunately, is quite often.” Ptolemy paused, musing on some inner thoughts. “I do wish I could help him more, but I’ve realized the best solution when he gets this way is to let him work things out in his own time. An unfortunate downside is that he’s quite restless and tends to wander around the flat muttering to himself, not to mention his tendency to leave things scattered around at random, so… neither of us gets any peace and quiet during this stage.”

“I understand.” Kitty nodded knowingly. “I rarely get any time to myself with Bartimaeus—I mean he’s constantly trying to hang out, which is fine usually, but when midterms come up…” She shook her head exhaustedly. “And then, sometimes when he really wants attention—” Suddenly, Kitty realized that she’d been dangerously close to insulting the brother of the boy sitting across from her. She met Ptolemy’s gaze, ready to apologize, but found him chuckling and nodding his head.

“Trust me, no one understands your predicament better than myself,” he responded, and his grin showed no ill-will. “I’m sorry that you’re now the brunt of his focus.”

“No, no,” Kitty waved away the apology. “Like I said, most of the time it’s fine, but I suppose certain times are just more stressful for everyone.”

“And everyone shows their stress in different ways.”

Kitty nodded, and a companionable silence descended over the table. Soon, the pair had their respective textbooks open and were pouring over notes from the past semester of classes. They both became so wrapped up in their studying that a sharp ding! from Ptolemy’s backpack nearly made them jump out of their seats. He gave an apologetic grimace and fished around the backpack for his phone.

“Ah,” he said, a corner of his mouth lifting as he read the message he’d just received. “It seems my flatmate has calmed down and wants to know if I’d like any company.”

“Well, feel free to go if you—wait.” Kitty pulled her phone out of her pocket, long since put on silent mode, and scrolled through the barrage of texts that had piled up during her short time with Ptolemy. She raised an eyebrow at said boy, who looked inquisitively back at her. “Has Bartimaeus met your flatmate yet?”

“No, we just recently moved in together; why?”

Kitty flashed a mischievous smile. “What do you say we give your brother a new friend to entertain?”

Ptolemy laughed, his entire face lighting up. “I’d say that’s a very good idea.”

***

“Hmm…not very intimidating, is he?” Bartimaeus asked, circling the pale boy as if he were a lion trying to decide if this particular prey was worth the effort. “Looks like a gust of wind might knock the poor sod over…”

“Excuse me,” the boy snapped, his unexpectedly stern voice overtaking Ptolemy’s groan of embarrassment. “I can hear everything you’re saying, in case you didn’t realize.”

“Oh no, I realized.” Bartimaeus flashed a grin and ruffled the boy’s hair, earning a snarl of annoyance. “Aw, don’t get so bent out of shape, Natty boy.”

“That is not my name!” Nathaniel hissed, swatting Bartimaeus’ hand away.

“…Well, this isn’t quite the way I expected things to go,” Kitty commented as the pair started bickering in earnest. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Ptolemy running a stressed hand through his hair.

“It was one of the two ways I thought this would turn out, actually,” he admitted guiltily. “I figured my brother would either take Nathaniel under his wing, or they’d end up pretty much like this.”

Kitty pondered this in silence for a few seconds, before letting out a defeated sigh.

“Okay, yeah… Honestly, once you told me that Nathaniel Underwood was your roommate, my hopes of a smooth meeting went down the drain, too. That kid’s had a stick up his ass since Year 9.”

“You’ve known him that long?” Ptolemy asked, surprised.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Kitty smirked. “We didn’t interact that much at first, although I could tell he’s always had it out for me for some reason. One day after school he cornered me outside and started lecturing me on how rude I was for not paying attention during class… He was getting really aggressive about it, so I punched him in the face.”

“…Oh,” Ptolemy said, eyes shifting between Kitty and Nathaniel a few times before he nodded solemnly. “Yes, I can definitely see that happening.”

“What, him trying to boss people around, or me knocking a scrawny little kid upside the jaw?” Kitty raised an expectant eyebrow.

“Both,” Ptolemy responded, and the duo broke into a laugh.

“Hey!” Nathaniel exclaimed, his voice cutting through the amiable atmosphere like a knife.  “Ptolemy, can you please do something about this brother of yours? I don’t think I can stand another minute of him harassing me.”

“Listen, Nat, giving you fashion advice about your atrocious style isn’t ‘harassment,’ it’s helpful,” Bartimaeus said, to which Nathaniel shot him a deadly glare. Bartimaeus looked at Kitty imploringly. “Kitty, can you do something about your obnoxious childhood friend?”

“Oh, we’re not friends,” Kitty and Nathaniel said in unison, a bit too quickly. Ptolemy and Bartimaeus shared a disbelieving look.

“Ah, I see… old flames, then,” Bartimaeus said, nodding sagely.

“Oh god no!” Kitty exclaimed as Nathaniel sputtered unintelligibly.

“It’s okay, Nat, you can admit it.” Bartimaeus wrapped an amiable arm around Nathaniel’s shoulders, which the boy promptly shoved off.

“There’s nothing to admit!” he practically screeched, and just like that the pair were bickering even more heatedly than before.

“I’m glad we decided to host the meetup at my flat instead of the coffee shop,” Ptolemy murmured, pointedly ignoring the blush still covering Kitty’s face. “We’d have definitely been kicked out by now.”

“Oh, for sure,” she said with a laugh, grateful at the change of subject. She nodded her head to Bartimaeus and Nathaniel. “Think they’ll ever get along?”

“Only time will tell.” Ptolemy glanced sideways and met Kitty’s gaze, flashing a bright smile. “Well, at least we can hold a normal conversation—that’s got to count for something, right?”

“Definitely.” Kitty’s smile mirrored his and she held out a hand. “To new friendships?”

“To new friendships,” Ptolemy agreed, grasping her hand firmly. He let out a chuckle and gestured with his free hand to the still-warring pair across the room. “And to whatever that turns out to be.”

Kitty rolled her eyes in agreement, a smile still tugging at the edges of her lips. It seemed as though her life was about to get very interesting.

[amandaoftherosemire]

Bulletproof -- Part Seven

Fandom: Marvel/College AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Gamora

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6,357

Format: Series (Complete)

Warnings: Language, angst, sexual themes.

Summary: Gamora gives her opinion on your current plans. You and Bucky get together, just the two of you.

Banner by @hellzzzbelle

Part Six here

Part Seven

Based on the expression on Gamora's face when you entered, the kitchen floor had given you away. You were pretty sure you could have gotten around the rest as needing to wind down from a good night but scrubbing the kitchen floor by hand had been too much. Apparently Gamora thought so, too, as evidenced by her archly raised eyebrow as she lifted her gaze from the book in her lap.

"So," she said calmly, but with a dangerous kind of stillness, "what are you up to now?"

You opened your mouth without a clue as to what was going to come out when your phone vibrated in your hand. Steve:

Don't think for a single second that you're getting out of telling me what you're doing to Bucky. He looked fucking drunk when he walked in.

Your face spread in a pleased and wicked smile despite Gamora’s watchful gaze, but you knew you were going to give in there, at least a little. She was too observant, and you'd been too upset. You shot a quick text back, Sorry, Dad. I have to answer to Mom right now, before putting your phone in your pocket and shooting Gamora a winning smile.

"Funny you should ask," you replied as you walked forward to flop onto the love seat across from Gamora to tell her most of your thought process over the course of last night, this morning, and today.

You were only more certain you wanted to seduce Bucky after the day you'd spent together. You knew it could only be a one-time thing, because even going that far was going to break your heart. But since you also could not spend the rest of your life wondering about all the sparks you and Bucky constantly struck off one another, you were trying to minimize the damage as much as possible.

When you were done, Gamora sat staring at you in utter disbelief. It was an odd thing to see. Gamora had confided a lot about her life before you met her, telling you once that you'd been her first real friend. You knew her childhood had been not only deeply unhappy but also deeply weird. It was rare to surprise her.

"That is, hands down, the worst idea I have ever heard in my entire life."

Your voice was dry as the Sahara. "Come on, G, don’t sugarcoat it. Give it to me straight." You were a little insulted. Considering the things she'd told you about her father, you couldn't help it. The man had some seriously weird ideas and stupendously flawed math.

Gamora scowled and fixed you with her patented don't-fucking-start-with-me look. "You’re going to seduce Bucky." It wasn't a question so much as it was a wondering kind of disbelief. Now you were downright irritated. She only used that tone with Peter Quill and that dude was sometimes unbelievably stupid.

You pushed to your feet to pace, her attitude making you wonder if there was any way to get out of this situation even half alive; you didn't believe for a moment you were getting out of this unscathed. "To get him out of my system, yes." Gamora's expression shifted again, this time to one of exasperated disbelief. Infuriated by her attitude, you sneered. "Look, everybody wins here. He gets to have sex with me, which I know he’s wanted to for years, no strings attached. I get him out of my system, we stay friends, and I get to move on with my life."

Gamora tilted her head to the side, her voice softening. "And what about the fact that you’re in love with him?"

You stopped in your tracks, the quiet question cutting to the heart of everything wrong and yet inescapable about the situation. You carefully cleared your throat to make sure that the despair wasn't blatant in your voice. "What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him."

Gamora had grown up in a house where excellence was expected, and failure was swiftly and brutally punished. She was painfully attuned to the moods and emotions of others. She'd had to be; it was a matter of survival. You didn't fool her for a second. Her voice softened further. "It will hurt you. Why won’t you tell him? He’s as much in love with you."

You stared at Gamora for a moment, unable to answer, your throat locked closed in pain. Gamora was the best of friends. Loyal and quietly kind, she also had an amazing ability to cut to the core of the matter, to find what was important and sweep away the rest. You generally adored that about her.

Right now, however, you couldn't help but resent her a little for forcing you to face the ramifications of what you were doing. You dropped down onto the couch next to her, your eyes dry, but devastated. You'd promised yourself you'd never cry over Bucky Barnes ever again. You didn't intend to break that promise, regardless of how much it hurt. "He doesn’t believe he can be faithful," you replied finally, "and I can’t commit to a man who cheats. It’s as simple as that."

Gamora's surprisingly tender heart ached for you. She could hear the pain in your voice and would do almost anything to help, but she knew she could not save you from yourself. "I swear, it's like banging my head against a brick wall with you. How is anyone this stubborn?"

Your lips twitched, but you kept your expression and tone serious as you answered. "I grew up with Steve Rogers."

Gamora's lips twitched in return and she bobbed her head in a nod of acknowledgement for your point. The moment of levity passed quickly, and worry took over once more. "Please," she implored, setting her book aside and turning toward you on the couch, "since you listened to me about giving him another chance, listen to me again and talk to Bucky. Tell him how you feel."

Your head turned toward her with a grimace masquerading as a smile. "I don’t think I can, but I’ll think about it."

Gamora huffed out a breath and opened her arms. "Come here." Gamora's compassion always hit you harder than anything else, if only because it was so rare for her to let down her guard and show it. With a wry smile that was, if nothing else, a real smile, you scooted in and let her enfold you. Though you felt the sting of tears at the back of your eyes, none even dared approach your eyelids, let alone had the temerity to fall.

Though she was grateful you'd accepted her comfort, the rigidity of your body had Gamora staring with worried eyes over your bowed head.

The following Friday morning, you sat at Steve’s kitchen counter while he made you breakfast, something that had become a routine since you started sitting for his art project. Swinging your legs around the stool you sat on, you bounced in your seat, delighted by Steve's news.

He'd spent most of this morning's sitting telling you all about his last week texting with Peggy, beaming and pink as his pencil flew easily. He was working on your form that morning, so you were allowed to beam back at him. You did so with gusto, delighted that they’d hit it off so well.

Steve was only a passable cook, but he was getting better. He’d almost succeeded at making you an omelet this morning, and when the school year had started he could barely boil pasta. You'd been happy to serve as both his guinea pig and cheerleader as he learned how the kitchen worked, unsurprised when he quickly got the hang of the basics. Steve's old-fashioned manners fooled some people into thinking he was simple, but his demeanor hid an agile and capable brain.

Steve was blushing rosy red as he set cheesy scrambled eggs and toast in front of you. “We’re meeting for drinks tonight,” he said quietly, his face crimson as he turned back to the coffee maker to grab the pot.

You paused in the act of raising a forkful of eggs to your mouth, having dug in immediately, starved and certain Steve had succeeded at making the eggs delicious, regardless of their form. "Really?" Your shoulders dropped and your expression shifted to full 'awwww' mode. Your free hand came up to your mouth so that you could bite your fist and quietly scream.

Steve turned around with a confused, yet amused, expression. He opened his mouth as though he was going to speak, then closed it, breathing out through his nose with an exasperated affection. He took a sip of his coffee while you shoveled in eggs. You'd been right; they were delicious.

"Did you just squee?" he asked finally, the laugh in his voice contagious and making you snicker around a mouthful.

"Yes!" you cried before you'd finished chewing and swallowing, dying with impatience at the delay. Quickly downing what you had in your mouth, you continued. “You guys are adorable.”

Steve groaned in laughing disgust at the sight of you talking with your mouth full. He shook his head at your cheerfully taunting smile as he retorted. “How would you know? You took off after five minutes.”

Demurely, as though you had never been crass in your life, let alone in the last sixty seconds, you patted your lips with your napkin. “I have an active and creative imagination. I can extrapolate with enough data.” At Steve’s snort, you fixed him with a haughty stare and went back to your breakfast, this time delicately to match your demeanor. “And it was more like ten minutes. Where are you guys meeting?”

Steve sipped at coffee and wondered how you could sound like you were interrogating him even as you grinned like a madwoman. "Howlie’s," he answered.

"That’s an okay start," you considered, "but if things are going well after you’ve had a couple drinks, you should ask her to dinner and take her somewhere nicer."

Even as his lips twitched, Steve's eyebrows were lifting at your bossy tone. "What's wrong with Howlie's?"

"Nothing," you shrugged as you bit into your toast, continuing around the bite, "as long as you get there early so she doesn't have to wait for you. It works for casual but it’s kind of a meat market on Fridays."

Steve was about to retort when your last statement struck him. "You may be right. It is one of Bucky's favorite places."

"Exactly my point."

Steve laughed before catching sight of the time. "Shit, I better hit the shower or I'm gonna be late to class." He drank the rest of his coffee down and set the cup in the sink.

"Stop by tonight before you head out. I need to approve your outfit."

Steve stopped on his way out of the kitchen to shoot you an annoyed sneer. "You know, I have been on dates before. I am capable of dressing myself."

You didn't respond, merely fixed him with a blank expression and a slow blink.

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll see you later."

A half an hour later, Steve had already bolted, hair still wet and grin flashing. You were finishing your coffee and doing some of your reading on your phone before you headed back to your place when the sound of the apartment door opening startled you. When Bucky walked into the kitchen, following the smell of fresh coffee, you had hidden your pounding heart behind a calm façade, sipping and scrolling.

The sight of you sitting at his counter both thrilled and annoyed Bucky. Thrilled because the sight of you always thrilled him, but annoyed because you were once again wearing that damn robe. He hated that robe, fascinated with what you may or may not have on underneath it and obsessed with why you so often wore it when you and Steve were alone together. "So," he said as he walked to the cupboard over the coffeepot and pulled a cup down, "do you wear clothes when you come over anymore?" He turned to wiggle his eyebrows at you, but irritation rang in his voice. "Not that I’m complaining."

You frowned at him, confused by his changed attitude since you'd last seen him, a long warm smile in the hallway the night before. "Do you ever go to class?" you asked mildly, avoiding the question. You still weren't sure you wanted Bucky to know about the project until it was over.

Bucky scowled into his coffee. He couldn't help but wonder if you were here because he wasn't supposed to be. "It was cancelled; prof's out sick. I hope Steve was a gentleman and made that for you." He nodded toward the demolished eggs and toast on the plate in front of you.

"Well, he owed me." You were considering telling him the truth. You figured no one else would enjoy the story of your and Steve's initial discomfort with your nudity more than Bucky. And you hated keeping secrets, especially now that you and Bucky were reconciling.

Then his lips twisted in what looked like jealousy and you recoiled from the vulnerability. "I bet," he sneered and the mocking eyebrow he lifted in your direction had you baffled. "More coffee?"

Your lip curled in disgust even as you held out your half empty cup. "Don't be gross." You didn't know if Bucky was joking but the implication that Steve had made you breakfast because you fucked him was ruining that breakfast as it sat in your stomach.

Bucky frowned in confusion at you even as he refilled your coffee from the pot. Once more he was lost and unsure how to find his way. Then your face softened with affection and he remembered that he didn't care about anything but having you back, no matter what.

You set down your cup and got to your feet. Without hesitation, you crossed to him and slid your arms around his waist to rest your head on his shoulder. "You're looking sad again, Bucky-bug."

Bucky could not stop himself from wrapping his arms tight around you. He loved the feel of your body against his; he could not deny himself anything you offered freely. His body curved around you, his head bent over yours as he took comfort in the warmth of you. Clearing his throat, he answered flippantly. "I just need a cold beer and a willing woman, sugar." You smiled to yourself and turned your face into his chest, rubbing your nose in the skin at the base of his throat. "Maybe I'll hit Howlie's tonight." Bucky was now having trouble keeping his thoughts straight, the soft feel of your nose and lips against his skin scrambling his brains. With an effort, he dragged back the memory of his damned best friend. "You and Steve have plans?"

"No," you murmured against his skin, your breath raising goosebumps, "Steve's busy tonight. I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet."

Bucky's arms tightened around you reflexively at the thought that he could have you all to himself. "You wanna come with me, be my wingwoman?" The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of them.

You tilted your head back and smiled sweetly into Bucky's stunned face. "Maybe I will. Shoot me a text before you head out?"

He knew he was playing with fire. He knew he should care. "You got it."

That evening, Bucky mounted the stairs to his apartment with his heart galloping in either anticipation or apprehension. Maybe both. Even as his heart raced, so too did his mind, confusion warring with a newfound freedom. He had you to himself tonight. He wasn't going to waste it.

Steve, apparently, had a date.

Bucky couldn’t figure out how he felt about it. His face and neck felt hot and chills were running up and down his spine. Was this relief? Was this rage?

He'd run into Steve on the street, the other man obviously carefully dressed in tan slacks and a bright blue shirt that you'd given him for Christmas because you said the color would bring out his eyes. You'd been right, but those eyes had also been bright with an excitement Bucky had never seen before. Whoever this girl was, she'd clearly knocked Steve for a loop.

But when he rounded the corner and spotted you sitting on the floor with your back against his door, he knew for certain how he felt. Righteous.

Look at you, he thought, in one of those sundresses you wore that made Bucky grateful for spring every damn year. Your hair was off your neck and your shoulders were bare and all Bucky could think about was pressing his lips to the tempting curve of your collarbone. He knew it was weird, but he'd always thought you had the prettiest shoulders.

How the fuck could Steve look elsewhere when you were right here? You lifted your head from where it rested against the door to lift the bottle that dangled from your fingers to your lips. Your eyes opened and warmed when you spotted him standing at the top of the stairs. Your face shone in a sparkling smile and Bucky decided to hell with Steve. He’d had his chance.

He couldn’t believe his best friend was wearing the shirt YOU gave him to a date with another woman. Bucky was done, wasn’t going to stand aside any longer. If you wanted him, he was yours.

Bucky didn’t know it, but the half-smile lifting that perfectly sculpted cheek was making your underwear damp. So perfectly wicked and astonishing in its ability to communicate, it told you that Bucky was in a reckless mood tonight. You could almost see the heated fantasies in his eyes.

Perfect. You were in an edgy, reckless mood yourself.

"What are you doing out here, babygirl?" The timbre of Bucky's voice took on a whole new tone on the familiar pet name. Hungry and rich with promise, it matched the heat of his eyes as they devoured your neckline, snagging again on the opal you'd put on that night with a wicked smile of your own.

"I'm an idiot." You didn't get to your feet as Bucky approached, but held your hand out for his. He took his cue and helped you to your feet. "I locked myself out of my apartment when I walked down to the store for pre-game beer." You weren't technically lying. You had locked your keys in the apartment. You knew because you'd had your eye on them hanging next to the door when you’d locked and closed it. "I'll give you one if I can come hang out in your place while you get ready."

When Bucky had pulled you to your feet, you'd come face to face and surprisingly close to him. He didn't immediately back off, and the warmth of his body had your skin heating in response. "Of course, you can," he replied as he stepped aside to put his key into the lock at your back. You eased out of the way to follow him in.

Once inside, you set the two six-packs of bottles and your purse on the coffee table and flopped onto the couch with a sigh. "Shit," you laughed. "I didn’t realize how tired I am until I sat down somewhere comfortable."

Bucky had dumped his bag in the corner of the room, determined to ignore everything but you from here until sunup. He snagged a beer and dropped to the couch next to you as he twisted off the top. Laying his head along the back and slumped down, he reminded you so much of when you were younger, when you'd first started to fall in love with him and thought there was a chance. Your heart twisted a little and you wondered if you should listen to Gamora and just talk to Bucky about everything.

Bucky saw the sadness around your eyes and wondered if you knew what kind of plans Steve had tonight. He hated the idea that you might be hurting. Bucky was determined ; if Steve and his mystery lady were going to be at Howlie's, you and Bucky wouldn't be. "Do you want to stay in tonight?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth his stomach tightened in anticipation and forced him to acknowledge that he had an ulterior motive for staying behind closed doors alone with you. So the fuck what? "Watch Disney movies, like old times?"

Your eyes softened and Bucky knew he'd made the right call, regardless of his selfish reasons for doing so. You'd always been the sort that needed quiet time with those you cared about, needed to connect more than a casual breakfast allowed with those that were most important to you. Offering that quiet time was the best thing he could have done to make you happy. "I thought you were after a cold beer and a willing woman," you teased softly.

Bucky grinned. "We have the cold beer." Contrary to what you expected, instead of taking the obvious set up and flirting back, his smile turned sweet. "And why would I settle for someone else when I’ve got my girl?"

You couldn't speak for a moment, because it sounded like Bucky was speaking the absolute truth, that he'd rather be with you than anywhere else. For the first time, against your better judgement, you started to have a little hope. "Lilo and Stitch?"

Bucky rolled his eyes, but affectionately, like he couldn't believe how dumb you were to even ask. "Like we’d start with anything else." You had called Bucky your Stitch for about three months after seeing the movie for the first time and hearing the line, "This is your Badness Level. It's unusually high for someone your size." Bucky leaned away to rummage in the end table next to him. Pulling out a stack of delivery menus, he fanned them out and offered them to you like he expected you to pick a card. "When are you going to be able to get back in?"

You laughed and grabbed for the one with the logo for your favorite pizza place. "Whenever Gamora comes home." You shrugged and gave him a questioning look. You knew he'd never throw you out, which is why you were engaged in the little 'locked-out' deception in the first place, but you figured you'd cover your bases. "Since I thought we were going out, I told her to take her time."

Bucky was relieved. He had you all to himself for hours. He was hoping for a chance to talk to you about everything that had happened. "You're more than welcome to stay as long as you like, doll."

At the pet name you most often heard out of Bucky for women he was hitting on, you lifted an amused brow. "Doll?" You weren't entirely certain what it meant, as you'd always assumed he called women 'doll' when he couldn't remember their name but still wanted in their pants. Your lips twitched and you said exactly what you were thinking. "Are you trying to fuck?"

Bucky's eyes widened. He'd internally cringed the moment the word had left his mouth. He'd never called you 'doll'. But now that he was allowing his thoughts to follow that path, his muscle memory had kicked in and he'd talked to you the way he'd hit on anyone else. Trust you to call him out on it. After a beat of shock, he tossed his head back and roared with laughter.

"For that," you said, as you pulled your phone out of your pocket, "I'm getting olives on the pizza."

Bucky's laughter half-morphed into gagging sounds as you pushed him off the couch with your bare foot.

Two demolished pizzas, most of a bag of mini donuts, Lilo and Stitch, and half of Tangled later, you were laying on the couch with your calves across Bucky's lap. His flesh arm was laying across the back of the couch, but his metal hand was resting on your leg, his thumb tracing dizzying circles into your skin. You could hardly believe how enticing that little motion was, but you were enjoying the slow burn so much you opted not to acknowledge it, wondering. How long could you stand it? How long without a response before he stopped? Did he even notice he was doing it?

You were keeping it light, chatting, joking, riffing on the movie, and it was everything you'd ever wanted. You'd never admit it out loud, but that's all you'd ever really dreamed of, to spend your life with your best friend. Not just the big moments, but the little ones, too. You wanted him for the everyday, the quiet times, the easy evenings at home with an old movie. You shivered and your throat tightened. Your heart aching, but for the first time truly hoping, you opened your mouth to speak.

Bucky noticed the shiver and asked, turning to you with a concerned look. "You want me to close the window?"

Your heart kicked oddly, a mixture of melting and racing and you pushed up into a sitting position but didn't move your legs from his lap. You smiled a little, your eyes soft. "Nah, I like the air."

The expression on your face had Bucky's heart skipping a beat. More than just heat, he realized there was warmth here. Maybe he could be better for you than Steve. Evidently Steve thought someone else could be better for him than you. He was welcome to her. Bucky would do whatever was needed to be the best goddamn consolation prize of all fucking time for you.

"Come here." His voice was gruff and raspy with what sounded like desire, but you thought you heard an undercurrent of bitterness to it. The sound destroyed what little courage you had and closed your voice in your throat.

Bucky pulled you close, wrapping his flesh arm around your bare shoulders and turning to tuck you against his chest. Feeling vulnerable, trying to figure out whether or not you wanted to risk talking to Bucky before you'd had a chance to give him a test drive, you snuggled in and let him warm you. "God, I missed you, babygirl." Bucky's voice was a low rumble, rich with an emotion you weren't sure you could name but sounded painfully familiar.

You didn't realize your voice matched his, as well as the one that whispered in your heart, when you answered. "I missed you, too, Bucky." His breath shuddered out. The sound of your voice had his heart leaping, but he wasn't sure why. He took his courage in both hands and asked the question he needed the answer to more than any other.

"Why did we stop being friends?"

Bucky cursed himself when your body went rigid and you slowly but inexorably pulled out of his arms to lean casually against the arm of the couch. He wanted to hold on, to comfort you until you were soft and relaxed against him once more. Only the look on your face stopped him.

Cold and tight, you answered with a disdainfully lifted brow and a slight sneer. "We're really gonna do this?" Bucky hated the look on your face, reminded of all the times you'd given him that look over the last couple years. Instead of letting you turn him away with the hard-eyed bitch he'd come to realize hid his girl away from him, he took the fidgety hand picking at the hem of your skirt, recognizing the woman he loved there.

You didn't want to think about it, didn't want to let it matter anymore. You tried to hold against the puppy-dog eyes he was giving you and asked a little more harshly than you meant, "Really?" He flinched, so slightly you wouldn't have noticed had you not been searching his face so intently, and you felt like a monster.

You gave in without any further fight, unable to deny him when he looked at you like that. You'd become able to withstand the patented Bucky Barnes puppy look, but you weren't totally immune. "Alright," you said, and Bucky frowned at the defeated warning in your voice. He understood when your lip curled in an expression so shockingly bitter he began to truly comprehend the depths of your anger with him. "Because I spent a week in the hospital, and you didn't even send me a fucking card."

Bucky's jaw dropped. Whatever he had expected, this had not been it. "Steve said you didn't want to see me." He answered without thinking, telling you the absolute truth. He had also been so ashamed of his behavior at the party you'd both been to the night before, where you’d walked in on him and someone else, he had taken the reprieve without complaint. The look of utter disgust in Steve's eyes when he'd coldly informed Bucky that he would not be allowed in to see you under any circumstances did the rest.

"I did not." Your voice was haughty, but he took comfort in the fact that you had not removed your hand from his. He toyed with your fingers, pleased to find them still relaxed as you went on. "I was already a little pissed at you when I woke up and everyone but you was there. Then they finally find you passed out in some bimbo's bed? Call me a drama queen, but I was feeling kind of bitchy."

Bucky opened his mouth to defend himself, but when he considered how he'd have felt had the situation been reversed, he'd have been heartbroken. He understood for the first time that you'd been pissed because he betrayed your friendship, not because he'd slept with someone else. He couldn't defend it. He closed his mouth and dropped his head, ashamed that he'd let you down, angry that he'd been such a coward.

You were a little taken aback to see the immediate understanding swiftly followed by remorse that flickered across Bucky's face. Pain flashed in his eyes as his gaze dropped to your hand where his thumbs were tracing gentle circles over the back. Your heart softened, as did your voice, though the hurt was clear for the first time even as you shrugged. "It's not like I said you were dead to me. I didn't see you for fucking weeks." Finally, you'd voiced the question you'd needed answered for years. Why had it been so fucking easy to push him away?

"Steve wouldn't let me!" It was true. He'd tried and failed at least a dozen times to sneak around your guard to check on you himself. He'd been nearly frantic, needing desperately to see you safe and sound with his own eyes but those who loved you had circled the wagons and didn't give a shit at that time about what he needed. He had been informed that you were okay and recovering and that would have to be enough, already.

Which is why the politely doubtful tone to your voice, rich with mockery and oozing with skepticism, "And you tried extra super hard, I'm sure," fired his temper.

He squeezed your hand, and the seriousness of his demeanor had the mocking sneer you wore fading slowly from your face. "You didn't see him. Even if," Bucky spoke sternly, "and trust me, that's a big if, even if I had gotten through Steve, Gamora and Natasha were right behind him." He scoffed a little. "God himself couldn't have made it through all three of them."

You nodded an acknowledgement of his point. All three had been very protective of you for several months after your little Jameson's adventure. Not only because of what had happened with Bucky, but because of the guy who'd helped you get so inebriated. They'd basically wrapped you in bubble wrap until… "And I tried. I didn't stop trying until I saw you myself."

Until you'd run into Bucky for the first time since you'd walked in on him fucking Gina in the laundry room during the house party where you'd had all the Jameson's. He had been walking up the stairs with some new bimbo under his arm as you'd been walking down. It had been long enough that the memory of his face in that moment was almost comical. You hoped someday it would be.

"And after that?" You turned your head and looked at Bucky for the first time. You saw the memory of that meeting in his eyes, along with pain, shame, remorse. In yours he found coldness harsh enough that his heart went faint at the sight, afraid he'd lost you by not being able to let go of the past, but he saw the hurt beneath the ice. It gave him the courage to answer with the truth.

"Cowardice. Guilt." Bucky lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the back. "You of all people deserved better from me."

You couldn't speak for a moment, utterly stunned by Bucky's answer. You'd never expected him to so thoroughly validate your hurt and anger. You had no idea how to respond. "I see."

Bucky's eyes lifted to yours and you found in his face so much more than you'd ever thought you'd get out of a conversation like this. Someday, after all of this was behind you and you weren't nursing the inevitable broken heart, you'd tell him that this was the moment you promised yourself you'd never let Bucky out of your life again no matter what it cost you. Then he was speaking again, and your heart was stumbling and hoping again. "It may be too late now, but if I had it to do over again, I’d change almost everything. I’m so sorry, babygirl."

You couldn’t speak, unable to decide exactly what to do or say now that you’d had this conversation. You were paralyzed, unable to let go of either hope or fear, when you saw it.

Bucky was retreating from you. He'd done that a thousand times in the last couple years, but you'd never really recognized it for what it was. He was offering a little of himself and when you didn't respond, he withdrew. His hand relaxed and you understood he was about to drop your hand and pull away. Reflexively, your hand tightened around his. "There’s no such thing as too late for us," you said, and the complete conviction in your tone, the fierceness of your expression had Bucky's smile flashing.

You grinned back and for a moment there was nothing between you, no yesterdays, no tomorrows. Only you and he existed in this endless moment, this singular eternity. You wanted now, and only now, wanted to climb into the moment with Bucky and try to never leave it. You wanted to pretend that you could.

"Tell me something, Bucky-bug," you said, your voice a sultry whisper as you turned toward him, lifting your hand to his shoulder to push him back into the couch. Confused, he didn't resist, but his eyes widened as you threw a leg over his lap and settled kneeling against him. "Is that why you never tried to fuck me? You felt guilty?"

You slid your hands into his hair and Bucky wasn't thinking straight anymore. He put his hands on your thighs, and no matter what his intentions were, as soon as he did his fingers were digging in. "No, I…"

You brought your mouth to within a breath of his. "Or did you not want me?" The pout on your lips and in your voice had Bucky's cock twitching against where you were pressed against him. He was hard as a rock and there was no denying he wanted you now, regardless of whether he had before.

Bucky's hands tightened and he shifted, rubbing against you, making your eyelids flutter. He'd never been so turned on in his life and he hadn't even kissed you yet. "I've always wanted you. I could be dead a year and still want you. The only thing I wouldn’t change was the night I finally got a taste of you. But you deserve more than-" He was babbling and cut off abruptly with a groan when you rocked your hips against him in a slow twist.

"Don't you think I deserve what I want?" You asked the question against his ear, thoroughly enjoying having Bucky at your mercy. You'd never known he'd be this easy, or that it'd be this much fun. He seemed to want you more than anyone ever had in your entire life, to hear him say it, to tell you he'd always wanted you, was intoxicating.

Bucky shuddered at the sensation of your breath on his neck, already drowning in you and cheerfully going under for the third time. His hands had made their way up to your hips and he was turned his face, nuzzling his nose and lips against yours in a way so sweetly seductive, your heart sighed a little even as you trembled with desire. "What do you want, babygirl?" he asked in a voice throbbing with longing, singing with promise.

You pulled back to smile playfully at Bucky, only to feel your heart stumbling again at the look of starstruck wonder on his face. He looked like all his dreams were coming true. You wanted to believe he didn't look at other women like that, but that was why you couldn't. You tucked your heart away, determined to enjoy the next couple of hours to the hilt. You'd already prepared to pay for it.

Your lips curved in the sexiest smile Bucky had ever seen. It was the kind of smile that could lure a sailor to his death, he thought. That smile made the next words out of your mouth the most exciting he'd ever heard. "What do ya got?"

Part Eight here

Taglist: 

@learisa @angieptt @mia-at-work @midnightdream83 @wwecrazed2010 @allandoflimbo @emaywhyayy @cheekygeek05 @lovely-geek @diinofayce @suz-123 @hellzzzbelle @olukewarmo @fairchild21 @thefridgeismybestie @fandomsstolemylife00 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @australianhorrorstory @buckybarneshairpullingkink @c-ly-g @wishingforahome @strangersstranger @whiskeyandwashitape @eyesfixedonthesun22 @ingenue-q @miraclesoflove @bibliophile1773 @rishlo @lbouvet

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: Are You Mine? and I Want Some More by PoetHrotsvitha

fandom: Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate

pairing: Evie Frye/Jacob Frye

word count: 54k and 50k respectively (one is a direct sequel to the other)

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: this is the most explicit material i have thus far reviewed on this blog

Is it endgame: yesssss

Is it shippable: yes

One thing you guys should know about me is I don’t read a great deal of smut. I don’t actively avoid it either, and I for sure consume more smut in the context of fanfic than in professional published fiction because I feel the following quote in my bones: “It wasn’t that friendship needed to be sexualized, it was that erotica needed to be … friendship-ized.” So when I stumbled on this fic that is 80% smut stretched over the thinnest pretext of plot, based on source material I have zero familiarity with, what did I do but fall headlong for this pairing and this story. Bless you, anon who brought Fryecest to my attention, and praise the Lord for modern AUs where knowledge of canon is not mandatory.

Jacob and Evie Frye are twins born into an Assassin family and raised by their exacting taskmaster of a father to take down the Templars. There’s no Templars or Assassins in this modern AU of course, just Evie’s looming A-Levels and their absent academic of a father. Evie’s still the golden child, of course—she’ll follow in their father’s footsteps and get her Ph.D. Jacob is the problem child. He’s already fallen in with the Wrong Crowd, he’s impulsive, he drinks and gambles and mostly solves problems with his fists. His relationship with their dad is hella strained. And because this is supposed to be PWP the author wastes no time in ratcheting the sexual tension up to 11 by having Jacob pick Evie up from her posh school on his MOTORCYCLE, each of them pretending not to be so turned on they could have combusted from desire by the end of the ride. Cool cool cool.

Their relationship begins barreling in a dom/sub direction almost from the word go. Evie is one thousand percent the take-charge, Type-A personality, so the idea is that she needs to relinquish that control in the bedroom, and Jacob is the only one she trusts to dominate her. Because they’re twins and they balance each other out adfkdfkdfjdkfd. The scene in the beginning where Jacob tells her not to button up her blouse while she’s making breakfast, and she actually listens to him instead of ignoring or insulting him, holy shit that was hot. It starts so small but eventually he’s got her wearing a wireless vibrator to class and begging for her “punishment” when she takes it out without his permission because it was too distracting.

I imagine this is what the 50 Shades of Grey phenomenon was about. I haven’t read 50 Shades of Grey myself, but I’ve interacted with people who rave about it and clearly got something out of those books, bad as they were. I’m not trying to compare the quality of this story to 50 Shades of Grey—it’s lightyears superior to that dreck—just that when I finished this fic I had the dazed realization that this was why people read smut.

There’s a throwaway line in Jacob’s internal monologue where he muses “they seem to be going about this backwards,” because he’s buying flowers for her the day after fingering her to a screaming orgasm, and yes I am 100% here for this trope. Ffs he sits with her in the library to keep her company while she studies! He waits for her/escorts her to her one hundred and one extracurricular activities! He’s a really immature 17-year-old and he’d never dream of doing this for anyone else, but when it comes to Evie he becomes suddenly sweet and thoughtful and solicitous. He’s constantly pausing in the middle of sex to ask for her enthusiastic & affirmative consent and reminding her to use the safe word. At the same time he’s madly jealous when anyone else shows a flicker of interest in her and he regularly makes her admit he “owns” her during their role-play. They are each other’s firsts which for some reason is really important to me in these kinds of they’re-teenagers-exploring-their-sexuality setups. This is Evie hitting up the lingerie boutique in preparation for their FIRST WEEKEND GETAWAY:

“I’m going away for the weekend with my-” Evie almost stumbled on the word, “-boyfriend.” What a strange concept.

I AM TRASH FOR THIS INCEST TROPE i love the way she stumbles over that word. Bc that’s not the box that Jacob occupies for her, is it? He’s much more than that. I love the way she alternates between begging him to put it in her cunt and calling him a prat and a shitheel; just because he’s the love of her life doesn’t make him stop being her insufferable little brother. You know what else I’m trash for? ALL the sneaking around tropes. One time while sexting with him in a storage closet at school she’s busted by one of the teachers and only barely has time to lock her phone before he confiscates it.

So the first fic ends with their dad finding the sexts and nudes on Evie’s phone, disowning them both, and Evie choosing to go to University of Edinburgh because their dad knows too many people at Oxbridge. The twins get a flat together and it’s happily ever after. Except no! In the sequel it’s ten years later and Evie and Jacob have returned to the house they grew up in to say goodbye to their dying father, and they’re ESTRANGED OH NO WHAT HAPPENED. Evie has a four-year-old in tow. We find out in fairly short order that the kid is Jacob’s, but Jacob doesn’t find out the truth until we’ve sent him through the angst wringer. The fic is about how they grieve and reconcile and how Jacob learns to parent, and this one is actually like 60% plot and I think I like it even better than the first one. This author’s note really spoke to me:

I’ve read a fair number of sibling incest modern AU fics in a few different fandoms and they all tend to end at “and then they ran away from their families and lived happily ever after/epilogue of sexy fun times possibly with the introduction of hey they've had a kid!”. And I mean I love that, don't get me wrong. But I guess I’m also weirdly preoccupied with the part about what comes after that, because it always seemed far too dreadfully simple an outcome. Normal relationships are rarely that easy, so why would these be? Then again I'm probably putting too much thought into a porn fic, LOL.

DEAR @poethrotsvitha, THIS IS A SIGNED PETITION TO PLEASE NEVER STOP OVERTHINKING THE PLOT OF YOUR PORN FICS. Like, nobody starts fucking their brother unless they really mean it, because the risk of the relationship going pear-shaped and the two of you still being stuck in each other’s orbit because there’s no “breaking up” with family? That’s a big risk. And also why incest pairings feel so high-stakes and I am trash for them, obvs. One of the reasons the dom/sub dynamic is so integral to their relationship was because Evie had a tendency to dictate to Jacob what he “can and can’t do,” and he understandably chafed against it sometimes. It’s what led to their breakup five years ago. And so him taking charge in the bedroom is a kind of counterbalance, and there’s a scene in this fic where she lets him role-play a noncon situation as a way to partly soothe his jealousy.

To a large extent it’s their son who brings about their reconciliation, but their son is also a hyperactive little git who throws a monkey wrench in their sex life, so now instead of hiding their relationship from their dad they’re tiptoeing around a four-year-old. And the big character development that happens on Jacob’s part is him recognizing that Thomas is Evie’s #1 priority now, and there comes a moment where he has to make a difficult decision to prioritize the two of them in his own life, too (by quitting his job and ending a toxic relationship). The other thing I really liked was how Jacob thinks ruefully he could have gone a another round if he were ten years younger, which he’s not, but Evie seems satisfied and that’s what matters. The recognition that he’s not a teenager anymore, and doesn’t have the stamina of one, but he’s also more mature and this time he’ll be able to give Evie what she needs? Oh, my heart. Like I said I loved them being each other’s firsts as teenagers but this, this second chance they’ve got as adults, this is beautiful.

Ok so this is Evie begging Jacob to fuck her in a closet in the middle of their dad’s funeral service??!:

“Please, I just need to forget. Just for a little bit- I need to forget, please-” Oh, God, this was a terrible idea. A terrible idea that she would die before she stopped- she felt like an addict after years of sobriety, pushed by stress and grief to needing that all-consuming high that she'd never quite been able to forget. Her fingers worked at his belt, pulling it open, unbuttoning his trousers to draw the heel of her palm along where he was already hard. “Evie,” he rasped, shuddering against her touch. “Shh,” she said, tucking his pants down enough to pull his cock free, giving it a few firm strokes. “Shh.” If they talked, it would be too real. It had to be rushed and frantic, to feel like it was just the once, to ease the ache in her chest.

And this is after they finish (“if only it could have lasted forever”):

Silently, she turned to let him zip up her dress … There was a warmth against the back of her neck as she felt him draw her hair aside and press a kiss to the sensitive skin, hesitant and uncertain.  "Thank you," she breathed into the darkness, listening to the click of his belt as it slid back into place.  He just sighed, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, saying a million things without speaking a word. 

LEANING HIS FOREHEAD FOR A MILLISECOND AGAINST HER SHOULDER OMFG I AM DECEASED

Ok so to return an earlier point: When you want a canon incest happy ending in a modern setting (as opposed to if you’re both Targaryens) the most popular option is run away and live as an unrelated couple, which necessitates cutting ties with everyone you’ve ever known. This may be more or less difficult depending on the quantity and quality of those ties; unless this is Flowers in the Attic and you’ve literally been locked in the attic for years there’s bound to be people you care about other than your sibling so this is a monumental ask. The Fryes choose option B, “living openly as siblings and keeping the incest on the dl”. This option is not without risk, of course, since exposure is always a possibility, and Evie has to put up with the other moms at Thomas’s preschool eyeing Jacob like a piece of meat. Still, it means Thomas gets to bake cookies with his grandmother, who would not have let Evie and Jacob back in her life if they flaunted the truth. I mean, it’s not that she doesn’t know her kids are fucking, it’s just that a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy allows everyone’s relationships to remain intact:

She seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “Is Thomas…” There were a few ways that this question could go, as far as Jacob could see, and he didn’t particularly want to deal with any of them. He leaned against the counter, palms rigid against the cold surface. “I’m really tired, Mother.” “I know. I just…” There was a terrible pause. “Are— are you and Evie…” Still facing the toaster, Jacob closed his eyes. He couldn’t muster a lot of fake outrage, but he planned to deny everything anyway. He didn’t care about how plausible it was. It was easier for everyone that way, especially Mother. Before he could open his mouth, though, Mother’s chair scraped back. “Actually, never mind. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Every Wednesday Evie (who’s moved back in with her mom) leaves Thomas with his grandma and goes to “book club” which is really date night at Jacob’s. And the two of them get right up to their old tricks:

When he gave her just the slightest nudge upwards with his hips, she finally let a broken whisper rasp out. “I can't- I want- please-” Jacob clicked his tongue. “You know what I want you to say.” She twisted her neck around again, and he could see that her eyes were now glassy with longing. “Huh?” “It's simple— just ‘My greedy cunt belongs to my brother’. “ “I will not."

The process of turning that initial “no” into a “yes” is scorchingly hot so there you go, I love these two, I love this fic, I have definitely seen the light and I'm ready to embrace smut.

[sextonsharpwinhalstead]

Ava Bekker

Hey you! Are you bored? Great me too, I’ve given this more time than I should, but I’ll say this. Bravo Med. They are not known for doing long plots, they are known for doing a thing and then promptly forgetting the thing. But not with this story. Med has never had a true antagonistic character. Until Ava Bekker.

In the Med fandom she has almost always been maligned, hated, shit-on, and fans are constantly asking for her to be taken off the show. I have no idea if this has shaped the current story for her, but it makes it a bit more interesting. Even more interesting has been the ushering of new blogs on this sight and others who use her face and likeness to celebrate her. But I always wonder what they are celebrating. I’ll give you a clue; It rhymes with her last name.

At some point when the show announced that Norma was being added to the cast, they also mentioned that she would have sexual tension/be a love interest, you know cause, Med can’t hold water. Please remember that statement going forward.

That was it for some of you, so excited to see what would happen with your favorite male protagonist and the new pretty white woman, you were so excited that you stopped paying attention, like almost immediately, to her behavior. Rose colored glasses.

To be fair Med has worked harder than it ever has in order to pull the wool over our eyes. But let me help you see some things.

The very first time we meet Ava it’s pretty clear by her composure and the ever-present smug look on her face that she has an ego. She talks down to anyone who isn’t a surgeon (Ethan) and immediately bumps heads with Connor, who in my opinion over reacted to her comment about Latham. She is set up as a rival and that’s what it seems she is until AFTER she operates on Robin. Ava claims that people in the hospital have been gossiping and she found out all the dirt on Connor that way. I could buy maybe finding out about Robin that way, but Dr. Latham would not entertain gossip in his OR.

What I think actually happened?

Ava took a tour around the hospital noticed an entire wing bearing the name Rhodes and now wanted to know more about the rising star at Med. So, she approaches him in THE most inappropriate and sexual harassing way. She casually brings up his mother’s suicide like she’s talking about buying bread, disrespects his relationship to Dr. Downey and his memory, and then insults the woman she just assisted in operating on, Connor’s girlfriend. Connor lets it’s roll off his back cause if you hadn’t noticed that’s how Connor is, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t upset or offended. She sums it all up by saying all this tragedy is because of him (blaming the victim) and then she does something so off, she says she’s into dangerous men. At this point SHE is the instigator and has made eyes at him (basically since they met).

Connor’s face is NOT intrigued. It’s the same looks he’s been giving her as of late. A feeling of wondering who she is, not because he’s intimidated but because he’s offended, alarmed, and reminding himself to stay cautious. If this feels like a stretch pretend the roles were reversed and Ava was a man and Connor was a woman. Does that scene still seem like a hot couple on the rise? Or a creep who has already crossed a social boundary in the first 5 hours of meeting someone.

From here on out Ava is painted in a confusing manner. She seems to try her best to undermine Connor in their “rivalry” over getting surgeries. She NEVER truly wins. She’s also failing to deal with HER sexual attraction to HIM. Connor NEVER flirts with her, in fact he explicitly states that he wants nothing to do with her and would not like to spend his free time with her. This is after she asks him to get a drink, a request she badgers him with even after he makes it clear he isn’t interested. Once again, reverse the roles, a man who does nothing but question your intelligence all day, makes snide comments about your significant other’s mental health, or your ability to take care of them; then propositions you for a drink. You’d think he was a sleazebag.

But it’s not all negative, Ava realizes she can’t get honey with vinegar, so she makes all the attempts to be nice, but why be nice to the person who’s been an asshole to you? Which is why Connor isn’t, plus it’s obvious she wants to get into his pants and he’s not going to encourage anything, even friendship. Remember ladies, this is probably what you too would do in a sexual harassment scenario.

Then Robin leaves. Connor goes on a sexual bender NONE that include Ava. She is somewhat passive aggressive in her nature with him at this point. This is the part of the story that snowed EVERYONE. She seemed “okay” with it until they made out in the breakroom, went home and had vanilla sex. Whatever, you know it was missionary don’t @ me. But by the next morning she feels like it’s a mistake. This is when I began to side-eye her, never believing we’d be where we are now, but it was wild.

Think about it, this doctor who has been wildly inappropriate (even in front of a patient) FINALLY sleeps with the man she’s been after since day one and now she’s calling time. You could say that sleeping with him was the realization that she had crossed a line that was only meant to be flirty, but I don’t think so.

The line she crossed was one of her mental health. See I have a theory. This is NOT Ava’s first time dealing with obsessive thoughts and behavior revolving around a person. I think she knew she was falling into a dangerous territory.

The only reason I theorize this is because of the hints they give about Ava’s empathy around patients being bed-ridden and unable to live their lives. One could empathize if they had been stuck in a room unable to leave…like in a padded cell.

Also, one line she told a patient: “I believe that whenever you do something out of love, it can’t never really be wrong.”

We aren’t going to discuss the “Steal a win” or even “The means justify the end” because we’ve all seen it. I rather focus on what everyone forgot.

Fast forward to the last half of season 3. Ava is playing nicely with Connor, he is falling in love with her, saying things like “We make a good team” and “Good job in there” but that pesky attending spot is still a point of contention. After his epic failure saving a mother and baby it looks like Ava is going to clench the spot. But he comes in and saves the surgery. Securing a spot at Med AND Mayo. This should make Ava happy, but we’re led to believe she’s hurt doubly because he’s bested her (again) and she’s losing the man she loves. But more than anything I think this episode shows she’s beginning to lose it.

Now let’s get into the premiere. It’s obvious that he wants to stay, and she wants him to stay. He is still putting himself out there and she is still playing aloof. Until he REALLY looks like he’s leaving, a party is thrown, and he has said his goodbyes. But Ava has a trick up her sleeve.  We all know what it is. It’s the first time she does something to control his actions. THIS IS NOT LOVE. THIS IS ABUSE.

The only way Ava has not slept with Connor’s dad (for money) cut herself (to play on his need to save the day) and snitch on him to the board (so she could save him) is if the show is REALLY using the whole “she doesn’t know how to express her feelings” story line but it doesn’t make much sense, maybe in season 3, but now? It isn’t plausible. Ava fits into an OLD diagnosis.

“Obsessive love disorder” (OLD) refers to a condition where you become obsessed with one person you think you may be in love with. You might feel the need to protect your loved one obsessively, or even become controlling of them as if they were a possession.

What are the symptoms of obsessive love disorder?

Symptoms of OLD may include:

·        an overwhelming attraction to one person

·        obsessive thoughts about the person

·        feeling the need to “protect” the person you’re in love with

·        possessive thoughts and actions

·        extreme jealousy over other interpersonal interactions

·        low self-esteem

  I could write a dissertation on how Ava fits all of these. She was immediately attracted to Connor and intensely.

Connor is the only person she interacts with and the only person she discusses almost all the time. We never hear about her life or if she even has one. No holidays with family. Nothing.

The last episode illustrates that as well as her stepping up to the plate to take the blame too.

The last two are going to be seen when Robin shows up. It’s already in the synopsis about her being jealous, and jealously is often accompanied by possessiveness.

Most of these actions accumulate to low self-esteem…

Oh, and lookout for these in the future:

People who have OLD may also not take rejection easily. In some cases, the symptoms could worsen at the end of a relationship or if the other person rejects you. There are other signs of this disorder, such as:

·        repeated texts, emails, and phone calls to the person they’re interested in

·        a constant need for reassurance

·        difficulty having friendships or maintaining contact with family members because of the obsession over one person

·        monitoring the actions of the other person

·        controlling where the other person goes and the activities they engage in

  However, as much as I believe they are going down this route I don’t completely agree with it. Why is that all the women on the show “go crazy”? Especially around Connor.

His mother jumped off a building (she was married to Cornelius so there’s that).

Robin was literally institutionalized and had a complete breakdown in front of her colleagues at the hospital, messing with her sense of integrity and self, and ultimately being the end of their relationship.

And of course, Sarah, who could forget the “How are we supposed to do our jobs if we don’t feel safe Maggie!” scream heard round the ED and of course, tazering a patient.

Somehow, they’ve managed to make the men seem sound even when they have issues.

When Ethan is ready to tackle his PTSD it’s done in the safety of Daniel’s office and intimate chats with Vicky.

Daniel’s is the same, he contacts his psychiatrist on a lovely walk and apologizes to Sarah for his behavior stemming from his depression; no harm no foul.

Even Will, whose behavior is supposed to be “erratic” the last couple of episodes is really just season 1 Will and not anything indicative of needing help.

I don’t like being right, well in this case, a little. But normally when I am its Med letting me down. Med has always been as subtle as a sledgehammer. They can almost NEVER keep a secret, they don’t trust their fans. So, most of you aren’t used to being kept in the dark. I can’t even begin to tell you how sad that just made me to write that. The fact is there is NOTHING to explain her behavior that will make you feel good. No matter how you spin it Ava slept with his father. She did. Ava got mad at Connor for not listening to her and cut herself on his blade; purposely. She did. Ava is the one who anonymously turned him in. She did. Ava is the one who sees herself as a victim, and Connor as ungrateful for everything she has “done” for him. She truly believes she’s is doing the right thing and that’s what makes her so delusional and dangerous. Take a breath, a walk, get a drink. But get good with the fact that the character you love isn’t stable and probably never has been.

[missmeikakuna]

Chad and the Incel Chapter 1

Rated: M

Fandom: Original Fiction (but inspired by the Virgin vs Chad meme)

Relationship type: Male/Male with a bit of Female/Female (the lesbians are adorable, btw) and unrequited Male/Female (in other words, the guys are bisexual).

Description: Chad is, well, a Chad, or at least he looks like one. He’s got his sights set on the cool nerd Becky and enlists the help of her shy incel ex-friend Noah, offering to help him get the gorgeous girl (Stacy) he desperately wants. Noah is reluctant to help, believing that he will be stuck in inceldom forever, but Chad’s interest in his life gives him hope. When their plans go awry, they start turning their romantic attention towards each other.

Content Warning: Given the subject matter, you can guess that this story has dark themes in it, such as suicide and self-harm (plus the mental health issues that often cause them), sexism, slut-shaming homophobia, biphobia and transphobia. There is also swearing and some mentions of sex but nothing too explicit (hence the M rating as opposed to an Explicit rating). 

1st Post: [SuicideFuel] Talking to a Chad

Chad Beaufort wiped his forehead with his towel, which he held over his back like a tarpaulin. He kept in one corner as he changed. He didn’t need to, per se. For an eighteen-year-old, he was fairly muscular and lacked much excess body fat, plus he had the benefit of being one of the tallest students on the team. However, he didn’t want to face his teammates, and he certainly didn’t want to have to see them changing.

He gasped and felt tempted to nurse his back when a hand smacked it. He grit his teeth. He could already tell who owned that hand.

‘Hey, my man. You wanna go and get some Mickey D’s?’ 

He was right.

He turned his head. Tyrone Cooper. A short, scrawny black kid with a big mouth and an urge to insult every person he came across.

‘Or are you too busy chugging salads in fear of getting fat?’ He looked up and down Chad’s body despite most of it being covered by a towel.  ‘Good decision,’ he said. Case in point.

Tyrone reached up and wrapped his arm around Chad’s neck, pulling the poor sonofabitch to his level. ‘But surely you won’t sacrifice a friend for that, right? Come on, have some fun.’

Ah, yes. ‘Friend’. Chad and Tyrone? Totally friends. Chad definitely enjoyed spending time with him and certainly never wanted to punch his teeth out.

‘I’m busy,’ Chad murmured.

Tyrone let go of him and crossed his arms. ‘Fine. Enjoy your fucking salad.’ He left with a huff. Chad sighed in relief.

He finished changing and headed out the door. He looked at his watch and sped up his walking. She was probably gone by now.

His heartbeat became as intense and full of hype as an overture when he saw Becky White pass him in the halls. At least she hadn’t left yet. Her dark chocolate hair was pulled back tight into a high ponytail, making her soft facial features all the more visible. The icy blueness of her eyes made her stand out. Her slim arms, covered by a merino wool sweater, were somehow carrying several books without her face showing any signs of struggle from their weight. Her mouth was closed so her braces didn’t show, but somehow those braces were charming to Chad. Or maybe he just liked seeing her smile. 

For a moment she did, but then she hid her face behind her books. Chad’s face started to heat up but then he looked behind him and saw a girl he sort of knew.

Stacy Wells was a tall girl with a fake tan and a large chest, wearing short shorts, just long enough to avoid being chastised by teachers, and a tight top. When she saw Becky, she pushed a strand of her wavy bottle-blonde hair behind her ear and gave her a little grin. She stared at her with warm brown eyes.

Covertly following her was a short boy with greasy and messy short black hair, which had bangs long enough to almost cover his eyes, a shirt with some anime girl on it and a pair of glasses Chad expected a grandfather to wear. Noah D’Arc. He had his hands in his pockets and was looking away from Stacy but inched closer to her. Chad caught him taking a whiff of Stacy’s fruity perfume. 

Stacy held her hand up to wave at her. Becky noticed Noah’s presence and scowled at him. He scowled back. She whipped her head away from him, causing Chad to savour the sight of her ponytail bouncing, and continued walking. 

Stacy frowned and dropped her fingers, her hand still hanging in the air. Noah looked down at the floor and shuffled away.

The next day, Chad found himself staring at Noah in class, trying to come up with a possible reason why Becky glared at him. His thoughts quickly got distracted from this puzzle when Becky’s face entered his mind. Chad grinned as he wondered what she’d wear on a date. Would she still wear her usual simple attire or would she dress up? He had a feeling she’d look cute in a sundress with her hair down. Then again, ponytails were kind of hot-

He was thrown out of his mind by another slap on the back. Like a bull he breathed out through his nose and turned his head. Tyrone. Of course.

‘Hey, you know Emilia Graff? I heard she just got pregnant. I can’t imagine it, personally. I mean, is it physically possible for her to get fatter?’

Chad considered replying, ‘Shut up. No one cares.’ However, Becky’s face once again popped up in his head. He instead asked, ‘Hey, do Becky White and Noah D’Arc know each other?’

Tyrone scratched his chin and looked up. ‘Hm…. Well, I do remember them being friends in middle school. Don’t know what happened after that. Why?’

Chad shrugged. When lunchtime rolled by, he watched Noah head to the computer lab with his lunchbox and decided to follow him.

When he entered the lab, he leaned against the doorframe. ‘Hey, uh, Noah, right?’ he asked when Noah sat down by a computer. Noah didn’t look up. His shoulders rose, his hands curled into fists and his eyebrows met in the centre of his face. 

Chad put a smile on his face and his hands in his pockets. This was how it was done, right? ‘So, I was wondering if you could tell me about Becky.’ Noah remained silent but started moving, turning on the computer and focusing on the screen. Chad rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I’d kind of like to know what kind of guy she likes.’

Chad’s eyes widened when Noah rolled his eyes. He heard him murmur, ‘Typical.’ Chad covered his mouth to suppress his laughter, releasing a tiny bit of spit into his hand. He wiped that hand against his jeans and held it out for a handshake. Noah looked at the hand like it was covered in maggots or, well, spit. Chad kept his hand out but curled it nervously.

‘Well, how about…’ Chad said, unsure what to do next. ‘You like Stacy, right? Let’s help each other out.’ Noah whispered something. Chad leaned down and put his hand against the back of his ear. ‘What was that?’ Noah tucked his lips into his mouth. Chad sighed. ‘I thought you’d be, I dunno, happy to get some help. Wait, I didn’t mean that in a… Sorry.’

Noah whispered again, but this time Chad heard it, though just barely. ‘No fucking point.’

‘Why?’

Noah tensed up even more. ‘I’m blughpild’

‘Huh?’

‘Blaghpeeled.’

‘What? I still can’t hear you.’

Noah took a deep breath. ‘Blackpilled.’

‘The fuck does that mean?’ Chad blurted out, though he didn’t apologise. 

Noah crossed his arms and turned his head in the direction opposite to Chad. ‘I realized the truth a few months ago.’

‘The truth? Is this ‘blackpilled’ thing a cult or something?’

Noah stood up and grabbed the collar of Chad’s polo shirt, pulling him closer. ‘You think someone like me would end up in a cult? I’m not dumb enough to believe in some sky wizard.’ After saying this, he immediately let go and sat down, sweat dripping down his face. The two were silent for a few moments.

Chad asked with a curious grin, ‘So what is it, then?’

A sigh from Noah. ‘Well, you would agree with me if I told you the world’s unfair, right?’ Chad shrugged but then nodded. ‘It’s especially unfair for people like me. No girls want to talk to me, no girls even want to go near me.’ 

Noah paused, considering how much information he planned on giving. ‘I’ve been deprived of love my entire life. Women just want Chads who treat them like shit, leaving behind all the ugly guys who’d treat them with respect.’ 

His face scrunched up with just enough force to stop his eyes from spilling tears. ‘When I gave up on trying to get a woman, I became blackpilled. Your world and mine are night and day. You get the bright blue day world full of love and admiration and I get the pitch-black night world full of, well, nothing.’

Chad asked, ‘Hey, wait, what did you say about me? Women want guys with my name? Why?’ Noah looked at him like a dog being told an unrecognisable command. ‘My name’s Chad.’

Noah scanned Chad’s body. ‘How fitting,’ he said as he tried to rip his eyes away from the lightly-tanned muscles that bulged out from underneath his crimson T-shirt and the tousled blonde hair that accentuated his strong jaw-

‘How?’

Noah coughed and turned away again. ‘You look like a Chad.’

It was Chad’s turn to cross his arms. ‘The hell does that mean?’

Noah’s throat closed up. His arms stiffened and his eyes darted everywhere. Chad exhaled and left the room, but not before seeing a tab on Noah’s computer entitled ‘Incels.me’. He just missed Noah groaning when the website was blocked by the school, taking out his phone and seeing only a tiny bit of internet data left.

Chad didn’t talk to Noah for a couple of weeks, but he did occasionally stare at him in the hopes of catching him considering the option.

Noah did consider it. In his mind was a constantly repeating video of him gathering the courage to talk to Stacy and her giving a cute little giggle before grabbing his hand. However, he remembered something someone on Incels.me said. 

Stacies don’t know what true oppression is. They’re able to use their body to get what they want. If I tried to do that, I’d be arrested for sexual harassment.

This comment kept battling with the fantasy of Stacy going out with him. Chad’s idea was useless. No, it wasn’t. It would never work. But Chad could give him some expertise. No girl wanted an ugly guy. But maybe this Stacy was different!

He finally made his decision as the lunch bell rang, though part of him screamed for him to reconsider. Instead of heading to the computer lab, the library or the cool-aired spot behind the gym, he walked up to Chad.

It took him a while to start talking as Chad put his pens in his pencil case. ‘If you give me some dating tips, I’ll tell you about Becky.’ 

After a moment of pressure at the thought of giving dating tips, Chad beamed at him and did something he didn’t expect to do. He gave him a little slap on the back. 

‘I knew you’d come around,’ he said.

What he didn’t know was that Noah had written about him on Incels.me.

[theblobmaster]

first part fic rec: got7

GOT7/JJP

(very unfinished js)

the ones with hearts are favourites :)

All In A Day’s Work | Multiple Pairings, Youngjae-Centric | 2.749w

Youngjae woke up one morning to the feeling of sweat trickling down his back. Considering he was on his side, it was not a comfortable feeling.

Definite Soul | JJ Project | 81.467w

In this world, people just wants to be acknowledged. Praised for their acting. Applauded for their singing. Or just by doing their job well. But a select few just want to be remembered.

Wilder | JJ Project | 76.619w

Newly graduated, Jinyoung is determined to try new things. New parties, new boys, and when Mark asks for a favor, even volunteering as a counselor at summer camp. But new experiences can get complicated, and he quickly finds himself a little out of his depth.

the grandfather paradox | JJ Project | 32.822w | ♥

Jaebum locks himself in a cyclic normalcy of work, home, life, and the two people he now loves most in the world- his husband Jinyoung and six-year-old son Yugyeom. So when a mysterious teenager shows up in his life and messes all that up, to say that he's just a little displeased by the change would be an understatement. But Jaebum soon discovers there's more to this quiet, truthful boy than meets the eye, and knows that he has just about four days to find out why.

tea lights | Mark/Jackson | 72.146w

in his first year of high school, jackson joins the astronomy club and meets a quiet, star-loving boy called mark.

pushing daisies | JJ Project | 68.639w

in which jaebum insists he's never seen jinyoung before, and jinyoung insists he doesn't care, and the beginning of spring is late, but there are flowers everywhere.

hooked | JJ Project | Ongoing | ♥

Jinri is one of the newest cast members of We Got Married. Jaebum, of course, is Completely Fine With This. (Coed GOT7 AU)

you have stolen (me heart) | JJ Project | 13.275w

In retrospect, maybe a stripper would have been a better alternative to getting a hybrid as a pet.

read you like a magazine | JJ Project | 42.515w | ♥

Ever since Jaebum passed auditions and he didn't, Jinyoung's been hell-bent on hating the guy. Now that they're in uni together, it's like destiny is screwing up all of his plans.

Better Late Than Never | JJ Project | 45.302w

An AU in which Jinyoung and Jaebum are both pretentious rich boys who go to a prestigious college. All their lives they've hated each other, constantly competing for attention and approval from each other's parents and peers and just generally despising each other. But when Jaebum suddenly disappears in high school, Jinyoung doesn't have to worry about him anymore--until Jaebum shows up at Jinyoung's college five years later and everything goes straight to hell. Disastrous photoshoots, drunken camaraderie, and aggressive makeout sessions.

Of douchebags and pretty boys | JJ Project | 7.151w

You steal my parking spot all the time and I was just heading out to leave a strongly worded note under your windshield wiper but oh no you're hot AU Starring Jinyoung the kindergarten teacher and Jaebum the (arrogant yet dorky) business man

we never go (out of style) | JJ Project | 5.027w

(you’ve got that james deen daydream look in your eyes)

Jinyoung and Jaebum don’t have bad blood, you heard it here first

soloist!JB and actor!Jr au

Mark of the Monster | Jackson/Mark | 11.192w

Jackson turns quickly, face still skywards, and he watches with fascination as Mark takes off. He's not sure he's ever seen anything more beautiful.

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters/X-Men AU

This Christmas (I’ll give you my heart) | JJ Project | 33.736w

Jaebum and Jinyoung have a fight at the supermarket in the morning. Jaebum and Jinyoung find out they're arranged to be married in the evening. Jaebum and Jinyoung fall in love, but only in time.

OR

Shouting match over the last Christmas goose at the grocery store AU

yellow heart | JJ Project | 1.813w

there are quite a lot of mistakes a person can make when people shift up and down their snapchat best friends list, and it happens by chance that jackson fucks up the order on jinyoung’s phone by sending him endless videos of himself lip-syncing to old pop songs.

aka au where jinyoung sends jaebum nudes by accident

(why don’t you) speak it out loud | JJ Project | 9.477w | ♥

either way, jaebum suffers.

write your story | JJ Project | 3.505w

"Do you ever stop and worry sometimes about what would happen if you suddenly get hit by a car, and when you lay there bleeding out on the ground, the first thing anyone sees on your phone is a lesbian OT3 fic from the kink meme," Bambam wonders.

"No," says Jinyoung, because the thing he worries about the most isn't lesbian porn, but of anyone finding his growing collection of Jaebum's dick pics accumulated over the years. "I don't."

Or: a fandom/fic writer AU.

How to Get a Dick Pic in Five Steps | Mark/Jackson | 3.221w

It was three weeks since Mark hooked up with a guy he's been nonstop texting. With some pressuring from his asshole friends and a helpful five step list from Youngjae, Mark gets a dick pic.

keep it upstairs (for the grand finale) | Hyung-Line | 6.201w

Jaebum sees romantic, sexual, all and any other partners - Jaebum has always seen them as point a or point b, as parallel lines, separate entities. You pick one or you pick the other.

Jinyoung, on the other hand, puts point a and point b in a circle together, Jinyoung draws lines that criss and cross. Jinyoung pushes people together until they fuse. An alchemist creating something new.

king missile | multiple pairings | 6.721w

Jaebum and Jinyoung returned to the study room only to see five crying boys in front of them. Bambam was on his hands and knees, bowing repeatedly to a screaming Mark, who was being held back by Jackson.

Yugyeom was shaking underneath the table, cradling his head in his arms as he rocked back and forth. Youngjae was face down, another sticky note on his forehead which read, “He’s dead, I killed him.”

or: They have a group project final that everyone forgot about.

The Line That Separates Us | JJ Project | 19.659w

When Jinyoung turns eleven he can't wait to join his best friend Jaebum at Hogwarts. He isn't expecting something as trivial as being sorted into a different house to divide them.

opportunity cost | JJ Project | 4.377w | ♥

kim yugyeom, 25, is PA to park jinyoung, 29, feared ceo of park powers (this sounds marginally less ridiculous in korean). a lot more intellectually insulting and ghei than it sounds.

Love So Sweet | JJ Project | 6.763w

Jinyoung has a secret admirer that leaves him candies with messages on it. All he wants to do is to find out who it is, thank them for the affection, reject their feelings and then go back to thinking of Im Jaebum 24/7.

look  at me for a sec (don’t be too awkward) | JJ Project | 10.021w

in which a bludger shatters jinyoung's shoulder and jaebum ends up volunteering to feed him breakfast.

when i was a young boy | JJ Project | 8.011w

Gryffindors and Slytherins Do Not get along, every one knows this. It's bit unfortunate for Jinyoung and Jaebum, childhood friends sorted into the two rival houses.

Jaebum might not handle it very well.

(Alternately: Jaebum makes overdramatic generalisations and probably writes angsty early teen poetry.)

Untitled | JJ Project | 9.7K w | ♥

Flirting through the drive through radio

[palmettofoxden]

Hi Vanessa it's @thatbastardsportexy (abby) (don't want to drag my main into this y'know?) and today I have been extra emo about stickball and the stickball children and also about a whole load of other fandoms. And then I decided to watch sad YouTube videos. So could you please write something to destroy what few emotions I have left? It's been a day for suffering so let's just do it. Maybe some angsty kevin day is drinking and alone when he goes pro feels? Idk, whatever you do will be A+ :)

I hope you’re all ready for some Andrew misses the monsters and is alone in his and Neil’s apartment because their schedules don’t match up pain!!!!

@thatbastardsportexy

Andrew, Kevin, and Neil are all on separate teams

Andrew hasn’t seen any of the monsters in too long

He hasn’t seen Kevin in over a month and even then, that was only when their teams played each other

Aaron lives somewhere else with Katelyn and is constantly working at the hospital, sleeping, or cramming in time with Katelyn between their shifts

Nicky lives in a completely different fucking timezone

He hasn’t seen Neil in almost two weeks because of their stupid fucking schedules not matching up

So, Andrew is alone in their apartment with the cats for days

And his days become exy practice and games and sitting around bored out of his mind

Because there is nothing to do and the apartment is too quiet and sometimes even the cats ignore him

But at least that is better than when they stand there and scream at him like it his fault Neil isn’t there

He isn’t happy about it either

And the cats share Neil’s pillow at night and look like they’re waiting for him to come home

Andrew and Neil have barely even talked because they’ve mostly just been playing phone tag for 10 days because Neil fucking sucks at charging his phone

And remembering to turn the fucking volume back on after games

Andrew watches Neil’s games after he gets back from his own

And he even gets so bored that he watches Kevin’s

Not that he would ever fucking admit that

He used to be good at being alone

He used to thrive on it

But now he’s all alone and he’s gotten too used to Neil and he hates how he misses him

And he hates how he wishes Nicky was here to fill the silence with pointless chatter

And he hates how he’d even take Kevin’s exy talk at this point

And he hasn’t even so much as gotten a text from Aaron in over 2 months and he hates it, but he’s been waiting for Aaron to text first

Just like he lets Kevin call him first or else he doesn’t talk to Kevin

And it’s up to Nicky to Skype him or Neil or else Andrew won’t talk to him

Because he refuses to act desperate and chase after them

If they give a shit about him, then they’ll call him

And if not, then he’s not going to act all pathetic and become the burden they pity talk to

But he gets so fucking bored and okay, fine, he’s lonely

Not that he is ever going to admit that

So, he tries calling Neil and big surprise, it goes right to voicemail

Because he probably forgot to charge his phone again

Andrew leaves him a quick “Charge your fucking phone” voicemail and then hangs up

He tries calling Kevin, figuring he can just taunt Kevin about the point gap in his last game and then Kevin will talk and Andrew won’t have to say anything else or explain why he called

But Kevin doesn’t answer either and Andrew is starting to get insulted

He tries to convince himself he doesn’t care

But he still wonders if Kevin purposely didn’t answer his call

He brushes it off though

Maybe Kevin’s just over practicing for a change

After all, he faces Neil’s team next game

And he’s probably trying to get some last minute extra practice the night before

On top of all the other extra practice he’s probably been doing for weeks, knowing Kevin

But then Andrew tries Skyping Nicky

And there’s no answer

Andrew is getting annoyed

He gets up and stalks off angrily to look for the cats, but Sir’s hidden under the bed

And when he picks up King, King scratches the shit out of him and then escapes to join Sir under the bed

“Fuck you. I didn’t want your attention anyway.”

Andrew goes back to the living room and sits down on the couch and stares at his phone for a few minutes before he finally picks it up and texts Aaron

He asks if Aaron owns a new video game that Andrew bought a couple weeks earlier and asks if Aaron wants to play it

Aaron doesn’t answer for a long time

Andrew is livid

How dare Aaron not even fucking answer when he went out of his way to reach out to him?

Andrew puts on the stupid food network and half watches people screw up on cooking shows

He doesn’t necessarily enjoy the shows, but he doesn’t care enough to change the channel

He just doesn’t want it to be so damn quiet

Almost three hours later, Andrew’s phone buzzes and he checks the text way too fast

Aaron says he just got off a double shift and he needs sleep

Andrew considers throwing his phone across the room

He grabs the secret expensive cat treats Neil thinks Andrew doesn’t know he bought and goes back into the bedroom

He lures the cats out from under the bed and to the living room with the treats so they will sit on the couch with him

They curl up together in the spot next to him and fall asleep

So, after all his effort, they can’t even be bothered to stay awake and entertain him

He tries calling Neil again, thinking maybe he’ll have found a fucking phone charger by now, but it goes straight to voicemail again

Andrew hangs up without leaving a message this time

And he starts thinking about how Neil is too busy to even find a phone charger to answer his call

And how Kevin has moved on to his new stupid team and doesn’t have time to even take a call from Andrew anymore

And how Aaron never fucking texts him and didn’t even have enough time to answer if he had the game or not, let alone to play online with Andrew

And how even Nicky isn’t taking his fucking calls and never called him back

And he’s pretty sure Neil talks to Kevin and Nicky more than he does

And he isn’t a necessary part of their group anymore

They don’t even have a group anymore

It’s just Andrew and Neil and even Neil is too busy with exy and Andrew’s all alone and unimportant and it just hits him all at once and there’s nothing there to distract him from it

It’s too early to go to bed, but Andrew turns the tv off and goes to bed anyway because there’s no point in being awake and clearly no one’s calling him back anyway

He still brings his phone with him and leaves it next to the bed though just in case Neil calls

Andrew is supposed to go to practice the next morning, but he sleeps in and wakes up to his phone ringing

He thinks it might be Neil, so he instantly answers the phone, but it’s just his coach reaming him out for being late for practice

And Andrew doesn’t have the energy to deal with this, so he claims he’s too sick to play

And technically, it isn’t a lie

He knows if Bee was there, she’d tell him that mental illness is just as valid of a reason to have bad days and days where he needs to stay home as physical illness is

She’d also probably tell him the exercise might do him some good, but he’s in the mood to pick and choose what advice suits his agenda

And right now he can’t stand the idea of making himself get up and deal with his stupid fucking team and stupid fucking exy

Neil plugs his phone in before his game against Kevin so that it’ll be charged enough to turn on after so he can try and catch Andrew after his game

And so he can check the results of Andrew’s game to see how he did

Neil’s team loses to Kevin’s and Neil showers and changes while dreading how smug Kevin is going to be about this

He finishes in the locker room and turns his phone on to try to call Andrew before he leaves

He has two missed calls from Andrew and one voicemail from him

And about thirty missed texts from Nicky

Neil isn’t worried until he sees that he has a missed text from Aaron and one from Kevin

Aaron never texts him and he just played against Kevin

But he ignores the hammering in his chest and thinks maybe Kevin is just rubbing the victory in as soon as possible

Maybe, Aaron thinks it is funny that he lost to Kevin?

But then Neil checks the messages and Aaron and Kevin are both asking why Andrew didn’t play

And about ten of the most recent texts from Nicky are him asking why Andrew didn’t play with about a hundred question marks

Neil feels like he’s going to throw up

He dials Andrew’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail

He tries again anyways and it still goes to voicemail

Nicky is still texting him

Neil checks his voicemail from Andrew, but it is just a day old message of Andrew telling him to charge his phone

Neil leaves the locker room and finds Kevin waiting for him outside

Kevin takes one look at him and says “You didn’t know.”

Neil says Andrew isn’t answering and he thinks his phone is off

Kevin tells him that according to Andrew’s coach, he sat out for health reasons

Neil is so worried and feels so guilty for not charging his phone earlier

But he forgot his stupid charger in his bag with his equipment

He should have just gone and bought another one

Now Andrew was out for health reasons and everyone was looking to Neil for answers and Neil didn’t even know what had happened to Andrew

Nicky will not stop texting him

He gets another one from Aaron asking “What does health reasons mean?”

And Aaron must have told Nicky what he heard because a second later, Nicky switches to asking if Andrew is sick or injured or what and he’s threatening to fly in from Germany and he is clearly getting annoyed that Neil isn’t answering

Neil sends one text to both of them “I don’t know what it means. I just found out he didn’t play and he isn’t answering his phone.”

Nicky says someone better tell him what the hell is going on because he’s going to start looking at plane tickets pretty soon

Aaron is closest, but it’ll still take a couple of hours to drive there

He just got off a double shift and is tired as fuck and Katelyn is supposed to be going into work, but Aaron says he’s going to drive to Andrew and Neil’s apartment and try to figure out what the fuck is going on

Katelyn manages to get her shift switched so that she can drive Aaron and he can sleep in the car on the way

But he can’t actually sleep when he is worried about Andrew and Neil and Nicky and Kevin won’t stop texting him, so he just lies with his head against the passenger window and watches the texts keep coming in, even though not one of them is news about what is going on with Andrew

Neil and Kevin went straight from the stadium to the airport to find the flight that will get them back the fastest and they keep Aaron and Nicky posted on that up until they got on the plane and check in to see how close Aaron is

Nicky feels helpless in Germany and is so tempted to book a flight, but Erik talks him into waiting to see if Andrew is okay first because the others will get to him way earlier

And Nicky does not want to be on a plane and miss updates when they finally come

Aaron and Katelyn make it to the apartment building and Aaron texts the others that he’s at the building

Nicky immediately starts texting a hundred questions

Neil and Kevin are on the plane, so they don’t see the texts yet

They manage to get in the building pretty easily because someone going in has seen Andrew around the building and doesn’t question it when Aaron asks them to hold the door

Getting into the actual apartment is another story

Aaron pounds on the door, but there’s nothing

So he pounds louder and shouts “Andrew, open the fucking door! I didn’t drive two fucking hours for you to ignore me!”

Andrew wakes up in a blanket burrito in his bed to the sound of pounding at the door and Aaron screaming and he is confused and annoyed

He pushes Sir off of him and nearly trips over King on his way across the bedroom

“I’m not fucking leaving until you open the fucking door, asshole!”

Andrew opens the door and nearly gets kicked in the chest

Aaron is so surprised by the door suddenly flying open that he half falls into the apartment

Andrew looks at him unimpressed and says “You weren’t really going to kick my door in?”

And Aaron’s like “Well if you would answer your fucking phone or door I wouldn’t have to.”

And Andrew says “Didn’t anyone teach you to pick a lock?”

Which, no, no one did

Maybe Andrew should have, but he didn’t want Aaron using the knowledge against him

Aaron’s phone will not stop dinging from Nicky’s messages

Andrew glances from Aaron to Katelyn and then back at Aaron and asks “What are you doing here?”

Aaron points out “You sat out the game for mysterious health reasons you couldn’t even be bothered to tell Neil about and then stopped answering your phone.”

Andrew glances over at the clock with vague interest and sees that it is late at night and he definitely slept through the night’s exy games

He walks out of the room and Aaron is indignant at how he drove all this way instead of sleeping and Andrew can’t even be bothered to respond to him

Aaron follows him and insists “Nicky’s threatening to fly here. He’s been texting me non-stop for almost four hours. You better call him and explain what the fuck is going on. What the fuck is going on anyway?”

Katelyn trails a little behind Aaron

Andrew responds “I wasn’t in the mood for hitting a ball with a stick.”

He picks his phone up from beside the bed and tries to check his messages, but the screen won’t turn on so he says “I guess it died”

Andrew isn’t exactly surprised that it died and he isn’t sure how long it has been dead for

He hasn’t had the energy to look at it since his coach’s call that morning

Aaron is beyond annoyed that Andrew put them through this because he didn’t feel like playing and couldn’t be bothered to plug his fucking phone in

But he is also so relieved that Andrew is alright

Andrew takes his phone and charger to the living room and plugs it in

Aaron texts Nicky, Kevin, and Neil that Andrew’s fine and his phone was dead while Andrew waits for his phone to turn back on

Aaron tells him Kevin and Neil are on a plane on their way there

Andrew’s phone turns on and fills with notifications about texts and missed calls and voicemails

He grabs Neil’s laptop and calls Nicky on Skype and puts it on the table

Nicky answers immediately and looks super fucking concerned still and like this has taken five years off of his life

Erik is sitting right beside him and smiles at the sight of Andrew

Andrew says “I’m alive, Nicky. Calm the fuck down.”

It’s too early in the morning for Nicky and Erik to be up and clearly, they’ve been up for hours and they stay on Skype to talk to them

And Nicky warns Andrew to never do that again and that he and Neil can’t both walk around with dead phones

And Nicky does most of the talking while Andrew just sits there and listens and they are all overreacting so much and Andrew can’t quite make himself be annoyed by it

Because Aaron looks like fucking shit, but he came here for him

And Erik brings coffee for him and Nicky, but they both look so tired and Nicky is overkill lecturing Andrew, but Andrew has kind of missed the way Nicky can talk a topic to death

And they knew he wasn’t playing

They noticed

They actually went to watch the night’s exy games

And not just the Neil vs. Kevin one

And Andrew feels a little less totally on the fucking outs

Because it’s hard to feel like they totally don’t give a shit about him when he’s got Nicky on Skype and Aaron there in person

And Kevin and Neil are on the way

And he isn’t even quite as annoyed as usual with Katelyn because she is here because Aaron showed up for Andrew

Eventually, Nicky and Erik set Nicky’s laptop down on the kitchen counter and stop talking for a few minutes to make breakfast because they are starving, but they don’t want to hang up

And Andrew, Aaron, and Katelyn are left sitting there listening to the sounds of Nicky and Erik’s kitchen

And then Aaron asks if Andrew has the game he texted him about

And the twins play the game while Katelyn watches because it is easier for them than talking

And they point the laptop at the tv screen so Nicky can see who is winning while he eats

Kevin and Neil are still worried, despite Aaron’s brief text

Neil is more worried than Kevin, but they are both concerned

The fact that even if Andrew really is okay, he is alone with Aaron and Katelyn does not make Neil any less worried

And Andrew still hasn’t called Neil again and Nicky and Aaron have stopped texting altogether

And Neil tries texting Aaron but gets no response because Aaron is too busy playing video games and between the video game volume, Nicky shouting advice, and Aaron swearing at the tv, it’s a little loud to hear Aaron’s phone

Kevin and Neil rush to Andrew and Neil’s apartment

When they get there, Neil throws the door open to find Andrew and Aaron playing video games with Nicky cheering them on over Skype while Katelyn brings a couple cups of coffee for her and Aaron from the kitchen

And Neil has no idea what he was expecting to find, but he knows this wasn’t it

As soon as Kevin is sure Andrew is okay, he goes to the kitchen in search of alcohol

It’s already late and they’re all there anyway, so they all stay up for a while drinking and playing video games (and Nicky joins in the games online)

They all stay the night at Andrew and Neil’s apartment (except obviously, Erik and Nicky, although they keep the party going over Skype)

And Andrew wakes up in the morning annoyed by how over-crowded his bed is with Neil and King and Sir

And by how over-crowded his apartment is so that he can hardly get to the kitchen past the bodies sleeping on his floor

But he doesn’t feel alone anymore, at least for the moment

[weedle-testaburger]

Lol I'm flattered that you think I'm tumblr famous 🤣 since you kinda tagged me ig I'll do it myself!

1. How did you choose your url? I wanted one referencing my two main fandoms at the time I picked it (Pokemon and South Park) and my original idea, stan-marshtomp, was taken, so I figured I'd combine Wendy's name with a Pokemon and it just kinda stuck lol

2. Any side blogs? Nope, I used to have an nsfw one back when tumblr let you have nsfw blogs but it's gone now

3. How long have you been on tumblr? Since August 2013, almost 8 years. God I feel old remembering that

4. Do I have a queue tag? No queueing, we stick posts in drafts or like them and then go find them later like men :p

5. Why did you start your blog? I had a few friends from school who used it and heard people on here liked talking about stuff like Pokemon and Doctor Who and wanted to try it for myself

6. Why did you choose your pfp? Stevonnie is still my favourite character in anything and until another enby character comes around I love as much as them I'm keeping them as my icon lol

7. Why did you choose your header? It's a shitpost I made and I still find my own stupid joke funny :p

8. What's your post with the most notes? This one, which I actually kinda hate cause every now and then someone will come on it going 'umm you know the roaring twenties were really bad actually (:', so for all intents and purposes my real post with the most notes is the 'you guys are just mean' meme criticising aphobia.

9. How many mutuals do you have? Idk how you count this but I'd guess about 90% of the blogs I'm following are mutuals

10. How many followers do you have? 3,133 atm apparently!

11. How many people do you follow? 2,848 atm.

12. Have you ever made a shitpost? I make shitposts constantly lmao

13. How often do you use tumblr every day? In terms of checking my phone, every few hours or so.

14. Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog? I've been on here almost 8 years, too many times to count! I don't like doing it but if you're gonna insult me for liking what I like or supporting people you think aren't valid, go fuck yourself is all I can say to that.

15. How do you feel about 'you need to reblog this' posts? I reblog them more often than not but just because I do doesn't mean other people who follow me have to! It's just a way for me to kinda ease my conscience about that stuff really.

16. Do you like tag games? I love em! It always makes me smile to think that people on here think of me enough to tag me in them, and I find them pretty fun to answer.

17. Do you like ask games? Ditto, it's fun seeing what people think of me or want to hear my opinions on, or tell them what i think of them or want to hear their opinions on.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think are tumblr famous? Well I feel a bit embarrassed to tag them in case it's annoying! But tbh @goopy-amethyst @mcnuggyy @cheylouwho and @bi-lars seem that way to me (in a good way ofc!)

It's late af here so I won't bother tagging anyone, if you wanna do this go for it!

Thanks for the tag Lovelies! @tapejob @sophie83540 (also I am in no way shape or form Tumblr famous! Love you all tho 😘😘)

1. Why did you choose your url?:

Hi, Im Reaven and my blog Edges on the Lies of fandoms! Its a play on me edging on the cliff that is the lie of fandoms being non-toxic and trying not to fall in

2. Any side blogs?:

Technically, yes I have two(2) @reavenedges-lies-ficdump and @kanarenee-on-ps4 but, @ren-is-being-silenced Is a Main blog that is my backup account for posting hockey videos when i go over the 5min limit

3. How long have you been on tumblr?:

I joined 06/20/2013 so Too Long Me Thinks lol

4. Do you have a queue tag?:

Should I? Yes. Do I? No, I dont eve Queue anything so I dont have one

5. Why did you start your blog?:

I don't actually remember but i was in highschool so probably because some of my friends were on here!

6. Why did you choose your pfp?:

Because Its Pride Month and Zach Aston-Reese is my Fave FuckBoi on the Penguins

7. Why did you choose your header?:

I've fallen in love with Jared McCann and like He did a Barrel Roll! And also that is my GIF!

8. What’s your post with the most notes?:

I use this site to check but it is apparently this post with 409 notes!

9. How many mutuals do you have?:

I counted to 120 before [Tumblr] broke and wouldnt let me see anymore! Also side blogs can't follow people so who actually knows!

10. How many followers do you have?:

Currently? Im fluctuating around 600 but im at this moment at 603!

11. How many people do you follow?:

1377 and counting!

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?:

Have you seen my content? It ranges from good takes to shitpost and you never know whats gonna happen next!

13. How often do you use tumblr each day?:

Yes, Its not great... But its on my phone so yes!

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?:

No? Maybe? I try not to argue on this site, it doesnt help anyone and its a waste of everyone's time!

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?:

Hard pass on those 19/20 times!

16. Do you like tag games?:

Yes!!! Tag games are fun!! It's a good way to get to know your mutuals better and a lovely way for you to introduce yourself to your followers!

17. Do you like ask games?:

I adore ask games! And I will absolutely go out of my way to answer all my asks to the fullest! (I see you person who asked me to do the Shots to make-out with NHLers prompt for the "Arizona Coyotes")

18. Which of your mutuals do you think are tumblr famous?:

@miamitu , @weedle-testaburger , and @hedgehogofspades

i think all count but also definitely @jakeguentzels

And now for the Tags:Anyone and Everyone who wants too!

[catbrainswriting]

[shizaya] godless (denied us)

ship/fandom: heiwajima shizuo/orihara izaya (durarara!!)

chapter: 1/?

word count: 3.3k

summary: Heiwajima Shizuo has never been able to control his anger, and at the age of twelve is taken from his parents and placed into foster care after a particularly dangerous attack on his younger brother.  After several years spent deteriorating in a group home, Shizuo is moved to a larger institution specialising in cases even more difficult than his own, where he meets resident problem child Orihara Izaya.

notes: hopefully you enjoy this! i’ve been working on it for a long-ass time (i swear it was meant to be just a couple paragraphs of character-building before plot rather than what is basically a 3k character study) and panicked so hard about uploading it, but it’s here now and it exists so please let me know if you liked it!

ao3 mirror.

If Shizuo thinks hard enough, he can remember a point in his early childhood when things were normal.  He was the first son of a middle-class couple, who loved each other well enough and loved him too.  

He was the ideal first kid, really; messy dark hair and gappy teeth and the type of laugh that could make strangers on the street turn to smile.  Perfect practise, and a perfect example, for a second child, Kasuka - who was born just after his third birthday and quickly deemed perfect.  Kasuka was a mostly quiet baby; only cried when he really needed something, quickly adapted to sleeping in a cot, didn’t whine when he wasn’t given attention.  The type of baby that parents could brag about, could take to restaurants and parties and parade around their friends while they cooed about what a ‘little angel’ he was.  

Shizuo, meanwhile, quickly turned into a nightmare.  It had been alright when he was the only child, when his parents didn’t have anyone to compare him to directly, and they could excuse his behaviour as normal.  Kasuka’s birth and subsequent perfection made that impossible; even an average child looked like a hell beast beside him, making Shizuo’s tantrums and screeching simply unbearable.  He wasn’t a spoilt child by any means, but as he got older he got louder and more fussy - wouldn’t sit still, wouldn’t eat properly, wouldn’t be quiet and would clamber out of his cot (and, later, his bed) to hammer on his parents door or simply cause a ruckus in the night.  Shizuo, of course, did not remember any of this, though he understood well enough that there must have been something wrong with him in the long run.  Wrong enough for his parents to sit him down age eleven and tell him, very gently, that they had thought long and hard, and they had decided that it might be better if he went away to live somewhere else.  Somewhere where he could be looked after properly, where people would understand him better, somewhere that his parents described as being lovely and kind and special, but Shizuo was old enough to understand what foster care was.  Old enough to understand the concept of abandonment.

And Shizuo, with a split brow and a bruised cheek from a particularly violent rampage at school several days previously, burst into tears.  He begged his parents not to get rid of him, that he was sorry and he didn’t know why he got so angry, but he would stop and he would never get into fights anymore, that he would be more like Kasuka and then everything would be okay.  His mother then began to cry herself and gathered him up in her arms.  She swore that he just didn’t quite understand, that they didn’t want to get rid of him at all and loved him very, very much.  But Shizuo was afraid and already felt as if she was letting go of him, so he swore to himself that he would be good from now on.  That, at least, earned him several more months, during which he did try his very best to be good.  He swallowed his unpredictable rage, went through every single method that the counsellors and psychologists at school had taught him (counting to ten, breathing in for three seconds then out for five, stopping and thinking about what the ‘best course of action’ would be), and for a while he was doing alright, but it was obvious that it couldn’t last.  He had tried, he had tried so hard, but ultimately it all came to a head on the day he tried to attack his little brother.

He attacked plenty of people - that was what always got him into trouble at school.  He had a short temper, everyone said; they were hesitant to use the term “anger issues,” (and were loathe to think of anything more clinical) though that’s what all the other kids taunted him for.  The moment something annoyed him, be it the sound of someone’s pencil tapping or an insult aimed at him, he flew off the handle before he could even fully comprehend the situation.  His body acted before his brain could even think anything, like he was a jockey trapped on top of a rampaging horse who could only watch the destruction he left in his wake, unable to do anything to try and stop it.  At school, he threw chairs and pens and books, shoved people into walls and punched them until they cried and bled.  He didn’t enjoy it (or, at least, the vague satisfaction he got from his fist connecting with flesh never surmounted the agonising guilt he felt afterwards), and he wasn’t a bully - he just couldn’t control it.  Home was a safer environment, at least, where there was little to irritate him and he could largely be left alone since his parents were often at work, but there was still Kasuka.  Kasuka, who was sweet and quiet and never got into anybody’s way, who was gentle and fragile and utterly doomed the moment Shizuo set his sights on him with rage burning in his chest.  Thinking back, Shizuo could not even remember what the argument had been about.  Something stupid, fickle, the sort of thing that only two young siblings possibly could argue about, but Shizuo had snapped and tried to throw the closest thing - which just happened to be a refrigerator.  

He had failed, rather spectacularly of course, and could only be thankful for that fact when he came back to himself, sprawled on the kitchen floor under the crushing weight of the appliance.  He could hear Kasuka talking on the phone, voice taking on the childish air that it rarely ever held as he spoke to the ambulance operator, trying to relay the necessary information beyond “please help my brother, he’s hurt, it’s bad, please”.  When Shizuo next woke up, he was in a hospital bed with his neck in a brace, his right arm and left leg in plaster, and a dull ache spread throughout his entire body.  Kasuka was sat in a chair beside the bed, staring at him with a look in his eyes - mature far beyond his years - that Shizuo couldn’t decipher, but still he didn’t seem afraid.  He’d never been afraid, no matter what Shizuo had done - who he’d hurt or what (be it bones or property) he had broken.

“You should rest, brother,” is all he said, quietly and evenly as if he was the older brother soothing the younger, and, with no other option in his drowsy mind, Shizuo obeyed.

The next person to wake him was his mother, staring down at him with a look in her eyes that Shizuo decidedly could decipher.  In her eyes, he saw grief, disappointment, resignation.  She looked tired, too; too tired to try to hide any of this from him.  Kasuka was gone, long gone probably, and Shizuo couldn’t help but feel dreadfully alone under her gaze.

“I’ve talked to the doctors,” she said once she was sure he was awake enough to understand her, busying herself with pouring him a cup of water so that she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes, “And they’ve agreed that perhaps living with people who…know how to help you properly would be best.”

Laying in a hospital bed, held together with plaster casts and bandages and tortured by the memory of Kasuka’s eyes widening - slightly, ever so slightly - when he had snapped, Shizuo couldn’t help but agree.

“It doesn’t have to be permanent,” she soothed, voice very tight as she stared down at the cup in her hand now full of the lukewarm water from the jug beside Shizuo’s bed.  She made no move to offer it to him.  

“It can just be for a little while.  Until you get a bit more settled in yourself.  Until you're…”

She sighed.  He was young, young and so fragile and she knew that this was wrong, that this wasn’t fair, but when she had received the call at work telling her of what had happened - that they were considering her son unstable, a danger - she knew that this was the right choice.  To protect Shizuo, to protect Kasuka.  To protect herself.  With a gulp, she continued.

“…until you’re less of a danger.”

Shizuo’s chest restricted so sharply at the words that for a moment he couldn’t quite breathe, though he knew they were true.  It was just…different to hear them out loud.  Different to hear them in his mother’s voice, rather than his own or the other kids at school.  But he knew - he was dangerous and uncontrollable.  He was almost surprised that they hadn’t decided to send him to a juvenile detention centre or something.  He’d heard about them on the television, and the older kids at school all mocked that he was going to end up in one - and then, eventually, a real prison, too.  

‘Shizuo-kun is such a monster! Who is he gonna kill first?’

He could’ve killed Kasuka.  So easily.  Even if he’d just dropped the refrigerator, if it had hit Kasuka he would be broken like Shizuo was.  Probably broken so much worse than Shizuo was because Shizuo got hurt so much that broken bones didn’t even really hurt anymore, not as much as they used to, and Kasuka just seemed so small and breakable, especially in comparison.  Even if he wasn’t afraid of Shizuo, Kasuka was in danger when they were together.  So were the other children at school, so were his parents.  Once he was bigger and stronger, though he was already tall for his age, surely he’d end up doing something terrible.  

Maybe it was better for everyone if he was just locked up.

His mother had explained everything that she could, speaking constantly in that soft, soothing voice that Shizuo had last heard when Kasuka was a baby, but she admitted that she did not have much of a hand in what would actually happen.  This only scared Shizuo further, until a doctor came in and informed them that one of the foster carers from the home where he would be moving would visit them the next day to tell him everything that he wanted to know - though this, also, was not as comforting as it should have been.  His mind supplied him with images of the evil orphanage workers from old movies, crotchety old women who would screech at him and lock him in the attic for misbehaving, and that night after his mother went home he did not sleep at all.  He stayed awake, staring at the bitterly familiar paintings on the ceiling of the hospital room as the hallways bustled around him, footsteps echoing through the children’s ward as babies screamed and mothers wept.

He could not remember much of the meeting the following day, only the anxiety he felt and the texture of the sheets gripped in his hands as they shook.  The carer - parent? He’d never called her that, always just Kanna - had spoken mostly to his mother, all smiles and promises of a loving, nurturing environment that he could thrive in.  She was kind-looking, the way one would expect a young mother to look, but she did not look at all as if she would be able to ‘handle’ Shizuo - especially since his own mother had failed at the task.  This observation soon proved to be true.  

Roughly a week after the meeting, Shizuo was walking through the doors of the small group home he was to reside in with a duffle bag of his belongings and pure vindictiveness in his heart.  There were three other children in the group home already: two boys and one girl, both boys several years older than him and the girl several years younger.  The oldest boy, Asahi, was sixteen when Shizuo moved in and incredibly boring - studious and charismatic in a way that made Shizuo slightly jealous, but he was also rude and far too self-assured for someone so average.  He liked to argue and enjoyed goading Shizuo into petty fights, but he was always the first to start blubbering when things got violent.  The other boy, Itsuki, was fourteen and frankly pathetic.  He got into almost as many fights as Shizuo did, but rarely if ever came out the victor and instead spent his time sulking in his room with black eyes and broken hands.  The little girl, Aoi, was three and thus too young to be of any interest to Shizuo.  Sure, he liked Kasuka, but he didn’t like children - or, at least, he liked to tell himself that he didn’t, when in reality he was merely terrified of hurting her.  

It was perhaps due to this fear, combined with the desperate desire for privacy and isolation from the other boys, that drove Shizuo to be even more violent than he had been at home.  He got into screaming matches with Asahi, threw plates at the dinner table and sent food flying at the walls, got into fights with Itsuki at any possible opportunity - even when they were both bruised and bandaged from other scuffles - and let his frustration at Aoi’s unwillingness to go away boil over until he was yelling at her, too.  Kanna did her best, really she did, but it seemed as if she would have had her hands full with Itsuki alone, let alone two other children - one still a toddler - and Shizuo.  She looked less pretty and put-together as time crawled on, grew irritable despite all of her best efforts, and even the help of the other temporary carers and volunteers going in and out of the house each week wasn’t enough to hold down all four of them.  It took just under four years for her to finally snap.

It is mid-February when she sits down Shizuo - freshly sixteen - and informs him that he is going to be transferred to a different foster home.  She doesn’t bother phrasing it like an offer, because it isn’t, it is a decision that had likely been made months ago, and now all that if left to do is boot him out and send him on his merry way.  Shizuo can’t even find it in himself to feel any sort of betrayal or abandonment like he had the first time - this was a long time coming.  Asahi and Itsuki had both aged out the foster care system and were living happy, free lives somewhere in the city - or perhaps miles and miles away, where Shizuo would like to go - and now Kanna is left with only him and Aoi.  

“Then you’ll finally get the happy family life you wanted in the first place,” he says, not at all bitter as he inspects the paperwork displayed over the coffee table in front of him, and Kanna smiles ruefully.

“I love you, Shizuo, you know that.  And I love Asahi and Itsuki, too.  But I’ll admit that I was too ambitious in taking you all on.  Maybe I’ll do better with just Aoi.”

Shizuo shrugs casually.  “You did just fine with all of us.  ‘S’not your fault we’re all the way that we are.”

“The whole point of this was supposed to be for me to raise you better than that.  Let you grow out of your wrongdoings.”

Shizuo’s gaze is pulled to the stars on his knuckles not quite covered by the clumsy bandages wrapped around his hands.  They are almost healed now, and he is reminded that in just under two weeks’ time - after the week-long break - he’ll be off suspension and back at school.

“Is this place far away?” he asks, leaning forwards to pick up a brochure.  This place is more of an institution than a home, a huge building that looks something like a hospital or a school, and the paragraph on the back says that it specialises in “particularly difficult cases”.

“Not terribly,” Kanna replies, “Other side of Ikebukuro.  You’ll be going to a new school.”

Shizuo glances up at that, somewhat anxiously.  “What school?”

“Raijin High School, nothing special.  But it might be good for you - a fresh start,” Kanna picks up a letter from the table and glances over it, then looks over at Shizuo beside her, “I think this place will be better for you.  I wouldn’t have requested you transfer otherwise.”

“It looks like a hospital.  Or a prison,” Shizuo snorts derivatively, unwilling to admit to the fear still sitting heavy in his stomach.

“Don’t let appearances fool you, it’s a nice place.  Not too crowded either.  There’s lots of space there, lots of privacy - not like here.  And they know what they’re doing.”

“‘Particularly difficult cases’,” Shizuo reads flatly, and Kanna chuckles.

“Yeah.  They specialise in children from traumatic or particularly sensitive environments - kids of criminals, or abuse victims, or…well, you know.”

“And you’re sure this is the place for me? I’m not a trauma survivor.  I’m just a fu-fuck–freakin’ monster.”

“Don’t say that,” Kanna admonishes firmly in a tone more concerned than at all harsh, though she smiles softly at him managing to (almost) censor himself, “There’s nothing wrong with you, and you’re certainly not a monster.”

Silently, Shizuo thinks back to the way Kanna yelled when she was especially tired.  When she was surrounded by broken plates and Aoi was crying and Shizuo could feel blood on his hands and Itsuki was cradling his already-bruising face, swearing and shouting while Asahi stood on and watched.  It’s been years since then, but he is still the same person - the same kid.  And maybe, with this, he’ll finally be able to let that kid go.  

Softly, he speaks up after several beats of silence.  “Will they really be able to help me?”

Kanna looks over to him and smiles.  She reaches out a hand and gently takes his, running her thumb softly over his healing knuckles. When she speaks, her voice is nothing but a whisper - like she’s sharing a secret.  Something sacred.  “They will, Shizuo.  I promise.”

~

Four days later (far too soon), Shizuo is climbing out of the same car he was taken from his home in four years ago and facing the place that will likely be his home until his eighteenth birthday.  It doesn’t look quite as threatening as it did in the photographs, but it’s large and does give off the impression of a hospital - clinical, rather than homely.  Kanna climbs out of the driver’s side and makes her way to the boot, but Shizuo rushes over and intercepts before she can attempt to put the burden of his bags and suitcases on herself.

“How chivalrous,” she chuckles, and ruffles his messy brown hair.  Disgruntled, Shizuo huffs and lifts a bag (one a duffle containing mainly clothes and technology, the other his school backpack) onto each shoulder before hefting up his larger suitcase with little effort.  The second he rolls behind him as he makes his way from the car to the double doors of the building.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Kanna calls from behind him when he’s halfway there, and Shizuo pauses.  He doesn’t want her to, knows he needs to do this on his own, but he turns around and tries desperately to find the words to ask her for what he does want.  However, it seems that Kanna is already a step ahead of him as she rushes from the car to take his face between her gentle hands and press a kiss to his cheek since she can’t even nearly reach his forehead.  She smiles when she draws back, and her eyes look slightly wet.  

“I love you, Shizuo,” she says softly, traces her thumb over his cheekbone, then turns and makes her way slowly back to the car to allow him the time to get inside without any eyes on him.  He tightens his grip on his suitcases and turns.  And then, with his heart in his throat, he walks through the automatic doors - home.

[realityhelixcreates]

Beta, Theta, and Me Chapter 8: Civil Disobedience

Chapters: 8/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG

Warnings: Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now),

Characters: Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags:  A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, Antagonistic Bosses, Loki Has A Throne Now, But It’s Not What He Wanted

Summary:  In direct defiance of Loki’s orders, you make life easier for him.

“Like he got mad that you were asking questions?” Stark asked over the phone. “If he starts getting like that, you don't have to keep asking.”

“No, not like that at all!” You exclaimed, back to the door, trying to speak over the sound of cursing and thumping from the penthouse outside. “He wanted to tell me! He was trying to, but it was like something clamped his mouth shut, and he couldn't get it out. Looked like it really hurt.”

“Damn. That's way worse than just withholding the information. What the hell is even with this guy? If it's not one weird thing, it's some other weird thing. Okay, well don't put yourself in danger if you don't have to.”

“Yeah. I'm just...hanging out now.” You said nervously. The crashing was still going on. “Gonna be fine though.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah! It's fine! Talk to ya later, boss!” You hung up the phone. You didn't want Stark to hear the disturbance. You definitely didn't want him sending anyone up here to 'calm things down'; that would only end badly for everyone involved, but probably Loki most of all.

He was still injured. And this tantrum couldn't be helping, with all the expended magic, and undue stress on his neck.

And you didn't actually want to leave yet. You knew this wouldn't last forever. Logically, you knew. Loki would heal, and you would move on. It was inevitable. Nothing stayed.

But you didn't want it to be over yet. You didn't want him to be carted off to the hospital or jail just yet. You didn't want to be relocated or let go yet. There were other factors at play now. The territorial desire for a place to call your home. The pride that wouldn't allow you to admit failure, even if you hadn't actually failed anything. The burning curiosity. Now, more than ever, you wanted to know what had happened to him! But obviously you couldn't just come out and ask him about it.

The shouting and crashing had died down outside your door, replaced by coughing. You cracked your door and peeked out.

You could just barely see Loki, red-faced and clutching his armrests tightly. His teeth were bared in a gritted snarl, but the coughing was a rhythmic sound repeating itself as though he was laughing. After a moment you realized that wasn't it. He was sobbing.  

He had told you-ordered you-not to come back today.

But you were out in the hall anyway, grabbing up a box of tissues on your way to him.

“Insubordinate fool.” He gasped. “How dare you defy me?”

“Mhm.” You began carefully blotting up his tears.

“I could kill you. Instantly.”

“Any second.”

“And still you disobey! I should punish you most severely for this.”

“Yeah. You should really bring out your worst.”

You found yourself in his lap somehow; it was really the only position you could be in, in order to reach his face and stroke his hair, offer him the comfort he had obviously been craving for so long.

“You cannot imagine the frustration!” He raged, and you clucked, and cooed, and agreed. You probably didn't really understand. Something had obviously been done to him that was far and away from the trauma you had experienced. So you continued to caress his cheeks and let him get his ranting out.

“I deeply wish you had not seen that.” He admitted, once he had a better grip on himself.

“I'm a servant, right?” You said. “I don't really have any impact on your reputation. Besides, I'm your omni-servant, aren't I? She who does all? Didn't you have, like, councilors on Asgard?”

“Of course. But it was...unseemly...for someone of my station...and then it was too late.”

Sheer force of will kept you from rolling your eyes. Of course there was a stigma against him getting the help he needed. Because he was a prince, or an Alpha, or a man. It was just one more stupid flaw of Alpha-run societies. It was just the same here on Earth.

“How is your neck?” You asked. “Do you need any painkillers or anything?”

“Uncomfortable, and no.” He answered, letting you stand once again. “Your drugs are useless to me. And we do not profane our bodies with such anyway. It's an insult to our physical purity.”

“Oh my god, Loki. Are you an anti-vaxxer?”

“A what? No, it's just that Asgardians are impervious to viruses, and so am I. And there is no pain so great that I cannot endure it. Think me weak, simply because of this?” He gestured to his neck brace. “My pain is pure. I do not need to do anything about it, save endure.”

“Not weak, just that there's nothing wrong with-”

“I do not require that kind of sympathy.” He interrupted. “Your comfort was a gift, but you need not press it further.”

“All right, all right!” You said. Was this some kind of Asgardian thing? “No painkillers, I get it. How is it though? Is it still broken, or is that even what happened in the first place?”

He stared at you with the wariness of a wild animal. “It was...” He paused. Nothing happened. “It was broken.”

“How?” Who could do that to a god?

He hissed in pain.

“I mean, how did you survive?” You amended swiftly. Whatever had done it must be tied to whatever was enforcing his silence.

“I...I...was in space. In a sort of torpor. It has happened before. So too, was my brother. A ship came, ostensibly in response to our distress call, but more realistically to salvage any valuables from the wreck. They found Thor, and something possessed them to bring him aboard. He woke there, and for once-for once-he refused to leave me behind.

Their captain came out to find me. He is human, and a sentimental fool, like all your kind. When he saw that my neck was wrong...I do not know what it is about your people that drives them to do such things without even thinking about it...like some kind of strange instinct...he straightened my head. Damn fool has phenomenal luck. He got it just right. I woke up right out there in space with him, mostly unable to move. He went back immediately to get me an old style of space helmet; it was so thick and bulky that it acted as a makeshift brace just long enough for them to put together a real one.

The whole crew of that ship is irrevocably insane, lunatics, all of them. But I owe my life to human sentimentality.”

“So we aren't all bad, huh?” That was a heck of a story, if you'd ever heard one. He was right though; that was incredibly lucky. How easily he could have died.

“You are exhausting. Well. You specifically are not. But that crew was. Whoever heard of an Omega captaining such a ship? He was such an odd one. Already claimed, of course, not that he was my type.”

“How long do you think it will take to heal? Did a doctor look at you when you got here?”

“Yes, a human doctor saw to me. Tried to pierce my skin with a needle. Tried to give me a dose of something called 'morphine'! I informed him of his impertinence when the needle broke. Idiot. His tools could do nothing. To injure me took the power of an inf-fi-fff-AHG!”

He broke off, gagging.

“Loki! Loki, Loki, shhh, shhhh, I get it, he couldn't help you. Okay.”

A few moments passed while Loki caught his breath.

“The nature...of my injury...slows its healing. As does my use of magic, as does my distance from Asgard, as does the constant strain of just living my life.” He wheezed.

The nightmares. The curse, or whatever it was that hurt him when he tried to talk about it. All of those stresses must be constantly re-injuring him, keeping him from healing properly.

“What can I do?” You asked. In the back of your head, you were yelling at yourself not to get any further involved, not to offer any more of yourself, but you didn't take it back.

“You? You can do nothing, what do you think you could possibly do?” Loki scoffed. “You already take some pressure off. I do not have to use as much magic with you around.”

“Is there anything else I can do? So you can use less magic? Is there anything left of Asgard that can be brought here? Do you think, I dunno, lullabies or warm milk before bed would help with the nightmares? I can learn to sing better!”

He stared at you, expression severe and hard to read. Maybe you had overstepped again.

“I'll think about it.” He said. “For now, I am tired...warm milk? Really? Am I an infant?”

“No milk? Not even with cinnamon?”

Loki's lip curled. “Disgusting.”

“Man, you really are a picky eater.”

He had you leave him by the fireplace with is books, and prepare dinner. You went with pot roast this time, dumping all the ingredients into a slow cooker, and washing the prep dishes, while thinking to yourself.

You were so done with suffering. It had been all around you for so long, inescapable, the greater portion of your lived experience. There had to be something else. You'd caught tantalizing glimpses of another way of life, like peeking through the slats of a fence. But every time you thought you had found a way to slip through, somebody boarded it up. Even now, when the sun was out, and things were looking up, you couldn't help but look at this man, and see the rich, velvety layers of misery he was swaddled in.

Perhaps it was just another symptom of the human sentimentality he so scorned. To see someone in pain, and instinctively want to alleviate it. It was so integral to the core of humanity that your people had to be bombarded with a constant blitz of propaganda designed specifically to erode your compassion and empathy, just so you would stop. But it didn't stop you, not all of you. There were still protests, and strikes, and mutual aid, and community action. The urge was still there; it could not be stripped from all of you.

You returned to his side while waiting for dinner to cook. It would be a few hours yet, in which you didn't have much to do, so you sank down on the cushion he had taken to leaving near the fireside for you. Loki was staring into the sparks, as if trying to glean meaning from their dance.

“Would it offend your sensibilities overmuch to help me dress?” He asked. “It would reduce my magic use by a small amount.”

“Yeah, I could probably do that.” You said. That wouldn't be so bad, especially since he was mostly wearing robes during his convalescence. The underthings would be a challenge, simply because of the basic embarrassment that nudity always brought on. But if you could get past the awkwardness, it shouldn't be difficult.

“Are you certain? You will be exposed to certain things that could dishonor you.” He said.

“Dishonor?” You snorted. “What's there to dishonor? You already said you weren't gonna do anything to me.”

“Ah, but I do not wish to make you suffer the temptation.”

“Not gonna be a problem, trust me.” You said. Embarrassment, maybe. Temptation? Never. It was an advantage, you told yourself. Over and over again, you told yourself. At the back of every man who walked out your door, you told yourself. It was an advantage. The pheromones didn't effect you. It made you free.

But Loki frowned slightly. “Very well.” He said, slightly miffed. “You can bathe me as well, if it means so little to you.”

And there it was again. The pride always bruised like an overripe pear.

“I probably can, yeah.” You said, holding on to feigned nonchalance. That was somewhat more difficult, because it meant you would have to be physically touching more of him than you would by just dressing him. But cleaning himself probably took a lot more magic that getting dressed did. And the touch would just be kind of inconvenient, and then there was the brace...

“What do I do about the brace?” How would you wash his hair and face without getting it wet? How would you wash his neck?

“Unfortunately, I will have to use a little bit of magic to keep it dry.” Loki admitted. “Still, it will be less than before. Are you truly sure about this?”

“Never know if I don't try.” You said.

“Strange little thing. To be so cavalier. Well, we shall see how brave you are when the time comes.”

                                                                          ******

The time had come, and now you knew why Loki's tub was so damn big. It was built to accommodate his incredibly long legs, as well as any helpers he might require.

And probably a bit of debauchery as well. You couldn't discount that possibility, unlikely as it was that he would have partners over any time soon.

You stood in hot water just up to your thighs, wielding a soapy scrubbing pad, while Loki lounged submerged nearly to his shoulders. Things were going well so far.

Stripping him down hadn't actually been so bad; the man was built like a Geefs sculpture, like a statue of the Devil so beautiful it had to be removed from the church. He had done almost nothing to hide his privates from your view, almost challenging you, but it didn't matter. That wasn't what drew your eyes.

No, your gaze was held by the roadmap of scars that meandered across his torso, around his back, over his shoulders. A hundred human lifetimes of cuts and stabs, of burns and gashes. A cicatrix as long as your hand just to the side of his sternum caught and trapped your attention. What could do that? What could do that to him? It had a brother, a twin less than an inch from his spine. It must have been a blade. It must have severed ribs.

“It was an abomination, since you are wondering.” Loki had said, catching your horrified stare. “Like legends of old, we became each other's demise.”

“But...”

“Does it disgust you? Am I so ugly to you now that you have seen all of me?”

“No! You're just...” Like an exaltation of form that had inspired artists for millennia. An expression of beauty that could be appreciated so much farther than just the carnal. Even the marks that scrawled across his body like a cuneiform tablet only added to the story of him. The tantalizing story of a being ages old and aeons away.

He'd sunk slowly into the water with an appreciative moan, shameless, ruling the moment like the prince he was.

He'd given you a different uniform for this activity. It was basically a one-piece bathing suit, but it retained the aesthetic of your Asgardian uniform. How did he just have these things? It wasn't an immodest garment by any means, but you felt almost as revealed as he was while wearing it.

The soap was definitely something special; luxurious and sudsy, it was actually moisturizing, and smelled like a forest in Autumn. You kept your little exfoliating pad frothy with it, and used it to limit the amount of physical contact with him. He wasn't making it easy; he kept stretching out and posing, leaning into your touch, moaning at your gentle ministrations. You were being gentle, even though you just wanted to scrub him off and get this over with, but he was clearly in a roguish mood.

He flicked water at you in playful little splashes.

“Why are you trying so hard to stay dry, you prim little thing? There is plenty of room. You can relax too, just as long as you do your job.”

You shied away from the water droplets. “It's bad luck to mix work and play. Always comes back to bite me.”

“I don't bite that hard, do I?” He asked.

“Don't want to find out. You already threatened to drink my blood once, remember?”

He gave a fake frown. “That was before I realized how sour you were. No respectable bloodsucker would be able to stand two drops of you.”

“Then I'll keep my precious blood to myself. Now show me your back.”

“With pleasure.” He stood up to turn around, deliberately giving you a view of his marble ass. You were tempted to give it a hard pinch. After all, if he was going to act like an exasperating child, you might as well treat him like one. However, you also felt it was more likely that you would break your fingers squeezing before he even felt the slightest sting.

He paused a moment before sitting back down, just making sure you got a good eye full. What a brat. Was he like this as a kid? You couldn't imagine what kind of royal terror he must have been, with his tempers and his tricks. He didn't seem terribly hard to please though.

You set about scrubbing his back, taking note of the many scars there. Many of them seemed similar to each other, as if they had all been inflicted by the same awful weapon. Long, thin, and criss-crossed. You didn't know what could have caused them, but he flinched the first time you touched them, quickly regaining control.

“Does that hurt?” You asked. They didn't look fresh, but that didn't mean anything. “What made these?”

“Lash.” He said, but cut you off with a sharp hand gesture when you started to ask more questions.

Was it related to the things he couldn't say, or just another bad memory? A whip? There were so many of those marks.

You carefully washed his hair, probably the least stressful part of the whole affair, though you did watch his face carefully for any signs of discomfort regarding his neck.

You were just about to declare him clean and step out of the tub, when his hand shot out and caught you by the wrist.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” He asked. You noticed the suppressed mirth in his voice and didn't know if you liked it.

“Don't think I am, no.” You said. He gestured to the water. Specifically, he gestured to the water that was currently covering his crotch.

Oh, it was going to be like that? A challenge? Bratty to the last.

“How could I have possibly forgotten?” You drawled sarcastically. You reached down into the water and grabbed him without any ceremony or gentleness. He went instantly hard in your hand.

Perhaps this had been a bad idea.

But as you held up the rough scrubbing pad and saw the merriment drain from his expression at the realization of what was coming, vengeful satisfaction settled in your soul. He barely had time to protest before you plunged the pad underwater and gave the whole area the cleaning he'd demanded.

When you were done, and his muffled yelps had subsided, you tossed the pad aside, and climbed out of the water.

“All done!” You announced with fake cheer.

Loki glared at you, his lips pressed so tight, they almost disappeared. There wasn't any anger in his gaze, but you slipped out of the bathing room quickly, lest the heat of it bore into your back.