#but yeah no I promise he’s not the asshole husband he’s just!!! logical!!!!

[ghostbeam]

oooooh, ozzy-bee !! who would bakugou be in a horror film ??? this sounds so fun akfhakhakf ☺️

Willow!!!!! Hi hi hiiii Omg bkg….I will never stop trying to fit him into as many roles as humanly possible but for this…okay. This is so specific and u need to hear me out on this one because it’s more complicated BUT. Bakugou is the husband who doesn’t believe his wife when she says they’re being haunted…NOW HEAR ME OUT!!!!! Bakugou is skeptical you know. He’s gonna look for the most logical answer when things in his house start falling off shelves or he hears weird noises at night that’s just who he is. However, in most movies where there’s a husband like this he sucks so bad and he calls the wife crazy and it’s a whole thing but Bakugou is not like that. Bakugou wants to believe so badly, but it just doesn’t make sense to him. I think when his wife tells him he’s very gentle about it and he tries to calm her down because at the end of the day all he cares about is that his significant other is not terrified in their house!!!!

Also I think like Bakugou as a character is much more connected to the like the haunting than he thinks like okay so ajsjsksjs in insidious the husband in that like doesn’t believe the wife and it turns out that like the whole time he’s basically the reason they’re being haunted, which is how I picture Bakugou in his horror movie. Like the reason the ghosts are bothering them is because they want to get to him, so obviously there’s a scene where he’s experiencing the exact thing his wife has been trying to tell him the whole movie. And at this point Bakugou is ready to kick some ghost ass and protect his family and yes!! He lives and yes!! He protects them and yes!! There will be a sequel!!!!!

Send me ur fav and I’ll tell u which character they’d be in a horror film

[katyasrussianaccent]

you’re so golden (corpse x reader)

Summary: You’re a faceless youtuber that sings cover songs. What happens when a certain faceless streamer slides into your DMs after you cover one of his songs?

Authors note: Part 3 whoop! I havent written fic in 3 years so Im hoping this is okay. Its about 4000 words, super long, sorry. I also dont play Among Us, but hopefully its not too obvious. Lemme know what you think!

You're nervous, though you aren’t quite sure why. The kind of nervousness that spreads to your feet, causing you to tap your toes against the side of your sofa.

Call you in 15. 

You look at the message again, staring at it till the screen goes blurry. Rubbing your eyes you exhale into the emptiness of your apartment; a feeble attempt at calming yourself down.

Logically it’s stupid to be nervous over a phone call. Logically you know that in the grand scheme of the universe, there are bigger things at hand. But you’re not a logical person, never have been. You’re all heart and emotion, both a blessing and a curse. There’s something intimate about a phone call, to have nothing but someone’s voice on the other end of the phone, talking to you and only you. It was a little scary; to think your purely online friendship with Corpse was going to be taken to a different level. You’re excited to think what that could mean.

“Fucking get it together,” you mutter to no-one as you exhale again, because there’s nothing else to do other than to wait and try to breath. There’s this frantic energy about you; like when you eat fizzy sweets, the flavour buzzing on your tongue. Your ancestors used to hunt wolves and here you were nervous over a single phone call.

The silence in your apartment’s too much now; too noisy. You grab your TV remote, clicking onto Spotify to find something. You’re scrolling so much, none of the artists feeling quite right for the moment before settling on Sufjan Stevens.

The dulcet tones fill the space, and for a brief second, you feel fine. You’re feeling relaxed and then your phone lights up.

Incoming Facetime Audio

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck” you say. Your face feels warm, your heart quickens in your chest. You could just ignore it, say you’re not feeling too good and that would be that, you wouldn’t have to do this. But it’s Corpse, you like Corpse and you’re kind of friends.

You swipe to accept the call, and press the button for speaker. 

“Hey,” you say, cringing at the meek tone your voice has taken on.

“Hey,” Corpse’s deep voice rumbles through your tiny speaker, distorting slightly and you press the volume button to turn it down a little.

There’s a beat of silence, a beat too long, and you already hate how awkward this is. You’re not great at social stuff, the concept of being a social butterfly is almost foreign to you. And it’s not because you dislike people, it’s just you hate this; the small talk, the awkwardness before you get comfortable and can hold an actual conversation.

You suddenly remember a tip from your customer service days. “How are you?” you ask, plastering on a grin so wide that it must look borderline demented. Thank god you’re single. 

“I’m okay thanks, how are you?” he asks.

You lounge back against the soft cushions of the sofa, lifting the phone up to your mouth as you do so. “I’m good, excited to be taught by the Among Us master.”

He snorts in disdain. “Hardly a master.” 

You chew your lip before you speak again, “I dunno, people on the internet think you’re pretty good.”

He snorts again, and you smile at the sound. It’s not something you’ve heard from him before, through your hours of watching his streams, you’ve become accustomed to his voice and the noises he makes. But this one seems to be new. And maybe it’s the weird, selfish part of you that likes to think he’s only ever made that sound for you. You shake the thought out of your head, because really? Getting happy over a snort is really such a ridiculous thing to do. 

“People on the internet say a lot of things.”

“True, but sometimes they speak the truth,” you reply, moving to get more comfortable; tucking your feet under your thighs. You wonder what he’s doing right now as he talks to you, is he sitting down? Or is he lying on his bed; his head propped up with pillows? There’s a brief flash of yearning, of wanting to be there in the same room as him, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared so you ignore it.

“Hm. We’ll agree to disagree.”

“Okay, you’re the boss Mr Husband.”

He chuckles softly, and again, you smile. You can feel yourself getting annoyed with yourself; you’re acting like a child with a crush; smiling at the phone. All you needed now was a notebook that had Mrs YN Husband written all over it.

“You know if you keep calling me that, we’re gonna have to get married,” he says, his voice a little lower than it was before. You blink and cock your head to the side, looking at an imaginary camera like you’re in The Office. Did you say that out loud? Is he...flirting with you? Sure, you’re flirty over Twitter, but it’s Twitter, Twitter isn’t real. There’s a fluttery feeling in your stomach at the mere prospect that he might actually be flirting with you.

“I’d be the best wife you could ever get,” you shoot back. There’s a brief second of silence before he answers, and you can hear shuffling on the other end. You want to ask what he’s doing, but you know it would break the conversation, and you’re curious to see where this goes.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” he asks, and you can picture the smirk in his voice. You have no idea what he looks like, no real care about it either, but you bet he’s got a beautiful smile. You bite your tongue before it tells him this, for once your brain actually works and stops you from making a fool out of yourself. It’s incredibly strange, how quickly he puts you at ease without a try, he’s just so naturally comforting. He’s not this flashy persona, he’s just a guy who likes to play video games and happens to be kinda good at them. And also has a voice that is literally like chocolate. Not just chocolate; dark chocolate. If dark chocolate could talk, it would sound like Corpse.

“Cos your girl can cook,” you say proudly, puffing out your chest a little. And that’s not a lie, you can cook. Okay, you’re not a Michelin starred chef, but you feel quite confident in the fact that Gordon Ramsey could eat your food, and probably (hopefully) wouldn’t scream that it was “fucking raw”. 

“And what would you cook for me?” he asks. 

You hum in thought for a second. “You’ll have to marry me first to find that out.”

He laughs, a proper laugh that settles in your stomach, spreading warmth through your chest. “I’ll think about it. I can hear music, what are you listening to?”

You straighten up a little, the question catching you off guard. You bite the inside of your cheek as you look at the song that’s playing. It’s not his type of music, you’re almost positive about that. You almost don’t want to tell him out of embarrassment. You’re not sure why you feel embarrassed; you know Corpse isn’t an asshole, he wouldn’t make fun of you. But music is so personal to you, so personal, it’s like baring a piece of your soul; which sounds so fucking cliche, but it’s true.

“Uhhh...It’s called Make out in My Car by Sufjan Stevens,” you reply.

He hums in affirmation. “It sounds nice; from what I can hear.”

“I can turn it up?” you ask, leaning forward to grab the remote off the coffee table.

“You could always sing some for me,” he offers. 

You laugh a little, scrunching up your nose. “And why would I do that?”

“I thought you wanted to get married. You have to woo me,” he replies.

“Woo you?” you ask, your tone incredulous. This isn’t how you pictured the conversation going.

“Yeah. Woo me, yn.” he says, dragging out the “o” causing you to laugh again.

You sigh dramatically. “I haven’t warmed up or anything, it’s gonna sound so bad” you warn as you put the song to the beginning.

“I’m sure you sound great. Go ahead, woo me.” 

You shake your head as you softly sing. “I'm not trying to go to bed with you, I just wanna make out in my car. And though I'm dying to fall in love with you, I just wanna make out in my car”. You stop and you’re suddenly very aware that you have essentially just serenaded him. Good going, brain.

It’s silent for a beat too long, and the smile that graced your lips starts to fade as the embarrassment starts to set in. 

“Well now we definitely have to get married,” he affirms. And there’s that fluttery feeling again.

You swallow, moving the conversation swiftly onto Among Us. You grab your laptop that was next to you, humming in acknowledgement as he walks you through downloading it. 

“So there’s a few of us joining us tonight, it should be really fun.”

“Oh. It’s not just us two?” you ask. You focus on the download, watching the number increase. You’re nervous at the prospect of playing with other people, strangers, for the first time. 

“No, it’s a 4 player minimum. We’re going to stream as well.”

“Corpse…” you start. You begin to pick at the skin around your nails, a habit you do whenever you get really anxious. This was meant to just be a cute moment where you learnt how to play a game, not a big event where people would be actually watching you, judging your every move.

“We’re going to do a few games off stream with you, you don’t need to be there for the stream after if you don’t want to,” he interrupts. 

“Okay,” you trail off, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip. You feel a little better, but not by much. You didn’t know who the other people were, what if they hated you? You ask this out loud.

“I’ll be there. You know Rae and Sykkuno. Felix, Sean and Toast will be there but they’re super nice, I promise.” His voice is sincere, and it soothes you. You don’t know him, not really know him, but you trust Corpse. You know he has his own struggles, and you believe his promise; he wouldn’t screw you over or put you in a situation you were uncomfortable with.

The rest of the call is him taking you through how to play and how to set up something called Proximity Chat so everyone can talk to each other in the game. He says it’s easier once you actually play, and it doesn’t sound particularly hard quite honestly, you just hope you don’t get imposter on the first try because you’re not the greatest liar. 

The game screen pops up, and you type in the code that Corpse gives you. You say goodbye to Corpse, who tells you to text him if you need any help. You drop into the game lobby, and you look at the little astronaut. There’s no time to dwell as a cacophony of voices hits you.

“YN!” Rae screeches and you chuckle at her enthusiasm. You’ve known Rae for a few years now, you met at college and had become fast friends. Though you had many different interests - gaming for one, you considered her your best friend. Rae was the type of friend where you didn’t need to talk every single day, you could message her a week later and it would be like no time had passed at all. And you loved that, sometimes you just didn’t want to talk to anyone. Sometimes your mood wasn’t the best, and you needed a little time to recharge. And she understood that, something that you were eternally grateful for. 

“Raebies!” you screech back, using your “pet” name for her.

“I’ve been trying to get you to play forever. But Mr Smooth Operator over there slides into your DMs and suddenly you’re a gamer now?”

“It sounds so sordid when you say it like that,” you reply.

“Hi yn! Glad to see you playing with us,” Sykkuno says. You greet him and the others, making sure to say hi to everyone in the game. You didn’t want to start off by being accidentally rude. You listen as everyone talks amongst each other, and you talk when spoken to, but you aren’t interjecting. It wasn’t anything against the other players, it was just a little overwhelming, and you were figuring out what everyone was like.

“Hello,” Corpse’s voice interrupts your train of thought and you greet him along with everyone else. 

“Aw, I wanted purple,” you say, frowning at Corpse’s name above the astronaut.

“We can switch,” he replies.

“No it’s o -” you start to speak before you realise he’s already switched to white. “Thank you, you didn’t have to.” You smile as you switch to purple, and you decide to add a flower for a little pizzazz.

“It’s your first game, I’ll kill you if I get imposter so it’ll even out,” he jokes and everyone laughs. The countdown begins and you puff your cheeks out, exhaling as it gets to 1. You’re nervous again, a seemingly common theme of the night. Your shoulders relax as the word CREWMATE flashes across the screen.

You watch as everyone but Corpse disperses from the cafeteria with haste, and you look at the keyboard to press the buttons to move.

“You ever see an old person text? That’s how I’m picturing you right now,” Corpse says as you walk together to Weapons.

“Shut up Sonny,” you reply in your best old woman voice, getting a laugh. You open up the task, shooting the Asteroids with ease. “Yay, I completed a task!”

“Good job,” Corpse replies, and you beam at the praise. You move down to o2, doing your task while Corpse does his.

“Wait, you could be imposter right? How would I know?” you ask as you walk together to Navigation.

“You wouldn’t, you just have to trust me,” he says, his voice full of charm.

You scowl. “Well that just makes me not want to trust you.” 

Before he replies, there’s a blaring alarm. DEAD BODY REPORTED. You blink at the suddenness; you were really enjoying the relaxing pace of the game. You look at the screen;  Felix has been killed.

“Who found the body?” Corpse asks.

“I did,” Rae answers. “I was in admin, and was going to lower engine and it was there in storage.”

“If you were in admin, why didn’t you go up through Cafeteria?” Toast asks.

“Because it’s quicker to go through storage,” Rae replies. They argue between themselves, and you listen intently and silently. It’s a lot of information, you can’t tell whose lying, but you guess that’s what makes a good player.

“Where were you yn?” Sean quizzes, and it takes you a second to realise you’re being spoken to.

“Oh. I was in um o2?”

“You don’t sound too sure there, pretty sus,” he says. Your face heats up a little, you’re not the imposter, but it feels like you are.

“She was in o2 and then we went to Navigation,” Corpse answers, and you breathe out as he takes on the interrogation.

“Oh you were together?” Rae asks, and you know that tone she’s got. It’s the tone that says she’ll be messaging you right away.

“Well yeah, it’s her first game, I’m not gonna leave her alone,” he says and you smile at that. 

“Yeah we’ve been together the whole time,” you add and it’s left at that. No-one votes anyone out, since no-ones really too suspicious. You carry on the game, and you find yourself really enjoying it, though the questioning part is kind of stressful. You can see why Corpse likes it so much, it’s really fun. You’re in electrical, humming as you do your task when Rae comes next to you. 

“Hey,” you greet her.

“I’m sorry, nothing personal,” she replies. Before you have a chance to say a word, she kills you and you look on in shock as your ghost floats above your body.  You listen into the meeting as Rae continues to lie and plead her case. She’s good, but Corpse knows better.

“Wait, you said you found her in electrical and you were where?” 

“I was in Upper Engine, and then I went to electrical to do my task,” Rae answers, her voice even and calm.

“I was in Lower Engine, and I didn’t see you,” Corpse says, and you grin at the fact Rae’s been found out. That’s what she gets for killing you.

“You were doing your task, I passed right by you,” Rae starts. She pleads her case, but it’s too late and she’s voted out.

“That was so much fun!” you declare. “I can see why you guys play it all the time.”

“Yes! We have converted another!” Felix shouts in victory.

“And all it took was Corpse,” Rae mutters sarcastically.

“Don’t get bitter Rachel, just get better,” you reply, causing the group to laugh.

You get the hang of it after a few games, and find yourself agreeing to stay while the others stream, though you decide against it yourself. You’ve only streamed once by yourself, and it was a very casual affair and you don’t want to feel too much pressure while you enjoy yourself. You know that Corpse gets nervous when he streams and he’s been doing it for so much longer, so you can only imagine how nervous you would be.

You tap your fingernails against the keyboard as the lobby counts down, any previous nerves have been replaced with excitement. 

IMPOSTER flashes across. You’re the only one, your astronaut looks lonely on the screen by itself, and the red letters almost taunt you. 

“Shit,” you mutter as your brain goes into overdrive. What was it Corpse had said before? Not to be too obvious. You don’t kill immediately, instead going at your previous pace to not look too suspicious. You were still fairly new to the game, and you were going to use that to your advantage.

You fake your task in Cafeteria before venting over to Navigation where Toast was.

“Hi Toast!” you greet, coming to stand next to him as you pretend you’re doing the task. 

“Oh hey yn,” he says. It doesn’t seem like he suspects you, and you’re not quite sure when to click the Kill button. You do it anyway before running out and going down and into shields. There’s adrenaline running through you as the dead body’s reported and you crack your knuckles before putting on your game face. You were going to play dumb, play the confused newbie - because to them, that’s what you were. 

“YN, where were you?” Corpse asks. Fuck. Maybe you weren’t going to get away with this.

You twiddle your hair as you draw out your words, playing the role perfectly. “Uhm I was in...shields? I think that’s what it’s called. I was in the cafeteria before that though.”

“Wait, you couldn’t have, I was in weapons. I would have seen you,” Sykkuno says.

You open your mouth to talk. “She could have vented,” Felix comments, and the rest of the group starts to agree.

“Guys, I don’t even know what venting is. I literally just started playing,” you point out, giggling.

“That’s true,” Rae agrees and you knew there was a reason you loved her.

“Bullshit! She’s playing you with her “oh I don’t know how to play” schtick,” Felix proclaims.

“Aw, that’s kind of rude, Felix. I’m just enjoying the game, doing the tasks,” you say, pouting a little. He’s the next on your list. 

Everyone skips the vote and you lean over your laptop, ready for the next round. You were going to win this. You kill Rae and Toast next, and yet again, manage to worm your way out of any suspicion. You can sense that Corpse and Felix are starting to get suspicious of you, and you know you need to bring out the big guns to throw them off.

You catch Sykkuno in Med Bay after checking the cams in Security.

“Hi yn!” he greets, and you almost feel guilty as you kill him. He’s so sweet and innocent, but unfortunately, casualties are a given. You pass Felix as he comes out of reactor and it’s only a matter of time before you’ll have to talk your way out of this one again.

“I passed yn as I came out of reactor,” Felix shouts with a hint of glee.

You roll your eyes; this is going to be tough. “Yeah I came from Upper Engine, I was finishing part 2 of a task.”

“I was in Electrical, where was the body?” Corpse asks.

“Med Bay. And the only one that could’ve been there was yn,” Felix starts.

“Well no, you could have passed me and killed Sykkuno then self reported,” you reply. “I think you can do that right?” 

Corpse hums in agreement. “Oh come on! She’s being really sus,” Felix argues.

“You are being a little sus yn,” Corpse comments.

“Corpse. You don’t really think it’s me do you?” You decide to lower your voice a little, your tone sweet but sultry. “You only taught me like an hour ago, there’s no way I’d be able to fool everybody so quickly.” You get close to the mic so it’s like you’re speaking only to Corpse. “Remember what I said? You’re a master at this.” You’re laying it on thick, and for a brief second you think you’ve been too over the top.

“This is difficult,” Corpse says, and you see the seconds count down, your heartbeat starts to quicken.

“Corpse, stop being a fucking simp and vote her out!” Felix demands.

“Corpsie baby,” you drawl out and you smile in success as you hear him sigh, almost shakily. You’ve got this in the bag. The victory screen flashes up and you cheer.

“Fuck yeah!” you shout, patting yourself on the back. You laugh as you exhale the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Good game yn!” Sykkuno comments, the others agreeing.

“Not fair, you used your womanly wiles against Corpse,” Felix says.

“Gotta use them for something. Not my fault Corpse knows where his allegiance lies,” you reply laughing a little.

You stretch, your back crying out in pain from being hunched over so long. You let out a long, loud moan of relief as you straighten your spine, your shoulders relaxing as you move from side to side.

“Your mic’s not muted” Corpse points out, clearing his throat. You feel your stomach drop and your face instantly becomes hot. Shit. 

“Oh. Uh. I totally forgot about that,” you say, forcing out a chuckle. You screw your eyes shut, any happiness has been now replaced by red hot shame. “So this was fun, uh, really fun, but um, I’m gonna, I’m gonna go. So...yeah. Bye guys, have fun!” 

You click to exit without giving anyone a chance to say a word, and drop your head into your hands. 

“Can’t wait to see what they say on Twitter about this,” you mutter into your hands.

TAGLIST (if youre bold, it wont let me tag): @teenageguitarist @fanworrior  @cherry-piee @mirahg  @clara-bee @cookinglovingalien @vir-tual @clubfairy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @more-like-reyna @boiled-onionrings @moneybagmgk @brendalopez99 @delicateavenuenacho @dreamsofficialwife @hydrate-tion @little-red02 

[arrowflier]

Oh! I have a prompt. Post-series, Mickey and Carl: destructive due, but like juuuust this side of legal and definitely morally ambiguous. Extra points if Mickey is protective because family's family

Okay this is definitely not what you were expecting but I was having such a hard time thinking of something for them to do lol. Of course now that I've done it I have more logical ideas but too late.😅

“Fuck, get the fucking—”

“I’m gettin it, I’m gettin it!”

“Well get it faster, I’m bleeding the fuck out over here!”

Ian groaned at the loud voices coming from the kitchen, stirring awake from where he had been napping on the living room sofa.

“The fuck is going on?” he muttered, sitting up and wiping at his dry eyes. The voices in the other room had stopped, but were replaced by loud crashes and slamming drawers as someone searched for something and, apparently, didn’t find it quickly enough.

Ian pushed himself to his feet, letting the scratchy hand-made blanket slide to the floor, and wandered on stiff legs toward the noise.

When he got far enough to see into the kitchen, he stopped and rubbed his eyes again, just to make sure he wasn’t having some kind of weird dream.

“Mickey?” Ian asked, and his husband started, looking both surprised and guilty. Mickey sat at the kitchen table, clutching a raggedy old towel around one hand, a towel that was slowly turning red with seeping blood.

“Mickey, what happened?” Ian prodded, waking up enough to realize that this was not a normal thing for a Sunday evening. They had come by the house for a late lunch and stayed to hang out and play with Franny—how had Mickey ended up bleeding in the kitchen when Ian had left him just 30 minutes ago to shut his eyes for a spell?

“Nothin’, man, everything’s fine,” Mickey answered gruffly, not meeting Ian’s eyes. “Just had a little incident, it’s all good.”

“All good?” Ian repeated, voice rising. “Mickey, you’re bleeding!”

His husband just shrugged.

“I mean, yeah, but not that bad.”

Before Ian could tear into his husband for playing down his apparent injury, Carl was returning from the bathroom off the kitchen, first aid kit in one hand.

“Found it!” he cried, waving the thing around like a victory flag. “Let’s get you patched up before Ian…”

Carl trailed off, seeing that Ian was, in fact, already awake and aware.

“Before Ian what?” Ian himself asked lowly, and Carl glanced at Mickey before offering a too-casual shrug.

Ian sighed, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes, and gestured to Carl.

“Give it here,” he ordered. “I don’t know what you two got up to, but at least let me fix it.”

Carl passed the first aid kit over without a word, throwing Mickey an apologetic glance. Ian just opened the box and set it on the table, digging through it for alcohol wipes and gauze, and sat in front of Mickey to unwind the towel from his hand.

“You promised me you’d stop doing stupid shit, you know,” Ian reminded his husband, and Mickey scowled.

“No, I promised I’d do less stupid shit,” he corrected, “and this wasn’t fuckin’ stupid.”

Ian raised an eyebrow at that claim, but Carl was ready to back Mickey up.

“It was so badass, Ian,” he gushed immediately. “You should’ve seen him!”

“Seen him do what?” Ian asked cautiously as Mickey avoided his gaze some more. Finally removing the last layer of the towel, Ian winced when he saw the cuts on Mickey’s hand. “Seen him slice himself up?” he added, but Carl shook his head.

“Nah, that happened after,” he said, then frowned. “Or during, I guess? But it wasn’t his fault, that thing had it out for him!”

Dare he ask? Ian wondered. Or, knowing his husband and his brother, perhaps the question should be dare he not?

Thing?” he made himself question, and Carl pounced on the opportunity to tell the full story. Or at least, the Carl version.

“Yeah, so there was this drone, right?” he started, and Ian was already feeling a groan coming on.

“A drone,” he said flatly, ignoring Mickey’s hiss as he wiped his hand clean.

“Yeah,” Carl went on, oblivious to Ian’s tone. “It’s been flying around here for days, always sneaking up on Debbie and Fran.”

“And did you report it?” Ian asked, already knowing the answer.

“The fuck would we do that for?” Mickey chimed in, and Ian rolled his eyes when Carl nodded his agreement.

“Carl, you’re a cop,” Ian said, exasperated.

“Yeah, but they don’t take shit like that seriously,” Carl defended, and well, Ian had to give him that. “But anyway, it showed up again just now, hovering around the pool while Franny was swimming, so we took it down.”

Ian let out a heavy breath, and closed his eyes.

“You took it down,” he said slowly. “Meaning you shot an unlicensed firearm, in the middle of the neighborhood, to destroy someone else’s personal property. And there’s probably video footage of you doing it.”

He reached for the gauze and started wrapping Mickey’s hand, tugging it just this side of too tight.

“Geez, fuckin’ relax, okay?” Mickey urged. “I didn’t use a gun, and I got it from behind. Besides, they were fuckin’ trespassing.”

“He’s right,” Carl agreed. “He got up on the roof outside our window, took it down with his knife once it was close enough.” Then Carl winced, and scratched at his head. “It just, uh, kind of caught his hand in the rotor when it went down?”

That explained the injuries, at least.

“Fine,” Ian relented, stroking a hand softly over the finished bandage and raising it to his lips for a brief kiss. “But if you ever do something like that again—”

The doorbell rang.

All three of them looked toward the front of the house, then at each other.

“Uh..” Carl voiced, and then they were all moving. Carl to throw the bloody rag in the bathroom and shut the door, Mickey to grab the knife that Ian now saw was sitting right there at the edge of the table, and Ian into the living room to answer the door.

Ian looked back once he got there, making sure Carl and Mickey were ready, and then opened the door with as casual an air as he could muster.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to see on the other side, but it wasn’t a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a thin-lipped expression.

“Uh, hi,” Ian greeted. “Can we help you?”

“You can,” the man said huffily. “I’m looking for—”

Mickey came up behind Ian, laying a steadying hand on his hip, and the man’s eyes went wide.

“You!” he hollered, pointing a shaking finger right in Mickey’s face.

“Me what?” Mickey grouched. “You got a problem, grandpa?”

“You killed my drone!” the man continued. Ian tensed, but Mickey just shrugged, unconcerned.

“So what?” he asked, not bothering to deny it.

“So I could have you arrested for destruction of property!” the man spit out, and Mickey laughed right in his face.

“Yeah right, man, try again,” he goaded. “You got no evidence.”

“I have footage,” the stranger hissed. “Of your face, when it fell.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” he asked. “What else you got footage of, huh? My sister?” He stepped around Ian, halfway through the door, and added lowly, “my underage niece?”

The man went white. “That footage is…it’s purely academic…I…I could…”

“What, you could what?” Mickey countered. “Get lost, man, and find a new hobby.”

He started to close the door, but the man shoved his foot in, wincing when the heavy wood hit it and bounced back.

“I saw your knife,” the man tried in a last ditch attempt. “You can’t have things like that in public, I could have you arrested for carrying a blade!”

“What, this one?” Mickey asked, taking the aforementioned knife out of his waistband and holding it out. The stranger shrank away from it, but Mickey held it out further.

“Go on, take it,” he urged. “And get out your ruler, asshole, ‘cause even if this weren’t private property, that thing’s within legal requirements for concealed carry.”

Ian finally interrupted, pulling Mickey back and taking his place in the doorway again.

“You heard the man,” he said to the stranger’s shocked face. “Sorry about your drone, but we have other things to worry about here.”

Then he slammed the door shut.

Ian stayed facing it for a moment, just breathing, before turning to look at his smug husband.

“That was the stupidest,” he started, stepping forward, “most harebrained—”

“Hottest?” Mickey suggested.

“Hottest,” Ian continued, then shook his head when he realized the trick. “How did you know you’d get away with all that, anyway?” he asked instead, and Carl spoke up from further in the house.

“Like you said, I’m a cop,” he cut in with a smirk. “And I don’t think that guy’ll bother us again, since he basically just admitted to spying on Fran.”

Ian blinked. “But we’re the only ones who heard that,” he pointed out, and Carl grinned wider as he showed them both his phone screen, where a recording app was paused.

“Single-party consent, bitch,” he said, and met Mickey’s high five easily.

Ian sighed again, and Mickey patted him on the shoulder in commiseration.

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Mickey said. “If I do stupid shit with your brother, I won’t go down for it.”

“Because he’s a cop?” Ian asked, and Mickey snorted, shaking his head.

“Nah,” he replied in an overdone stage-whisper. “Because he’d be easy to pin it on.”

Ian thought for a moment, watching Carl trip over the coffee table on his way back to the kitchen, then shrugged.

He couldn’t really argue with that either.

[fruitcoops]

Ok so what sbout remus/sirius being too sick to go to an away game so the other one has to go alone, and then tons of facetime conversations and "get well soon" videos from the team?

This is related to this fic about Remus and Finn bonding over terrible reporters--hope you enjoy! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, and the Loops/ Talker bonding is for @lee-1012!

TW for illness

“You don’t look so good.” Remus frowned as he held the inside of his wrist against Sirius’ forehead. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Non.” Sirius sat up on his elbows with a groan, then almost immediately flopped back down.

“Yes.” He leaned back on his heels and checked the clock—they had two hours before they had to be at the airport. “Baby, I don’t think you should—”

“ ‘m going.”

“It’s not a good—”

“Gotta go. Games.” Sirius cracked one glassy eye open. “Two weeks away. I’ll take the first couple days off.”

Remus sighed through his nose and brushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “You shouldn’t go on the plane if you’re sick. Not just for your sake, but for the rest of us. We don’t need everyone to come down with this.”

He received a halfhearted glare in response, but Sirius finally huffed and curled on his side to nuzzle against his thigh. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, baby,” Remus said quietly, bending to kiss his temple. They hadn’t been apart for that long since before he was a player, nearly a year prior. Hell, he had never played a game without Sirius, let alone two weeks’ worth. “Lily will check on you, okay?”

Sirius mumbled an incoherent response and cuddled closer when he began combing his fingers through his hair. The second alarm beeped, loud against the quiet of their bedroom; time to go, he thought ruefully. Sirius touched his knee as he started to stand. “Love you. Be safe.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most.”

“Go back to sleep,” Remus said as his heart clenched. “I’ll let Coach know what happened, but you’ve got to rest and take care of yourself. Hydrate or die-drate, yeah?”

“Yeah. Love you.”

“Sleep,” he repeated, kissing his forehead once more before hauling himself out of bed and tucking the covers around Sirius’ shoulders. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

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

The clouds were a soft, pastel pink around them as the sun rose—Sirius’ favorite. If his phone was correct, Lily would be there soon to let Hattie out and make sure Sirius wasn’t pushing himself too hard. The thought brought Remus a bit of relief, but not enough to quell his concern.

Talker poked his forearm, snapping him from his reverie. “What’s going on?”

“Just worrying.”

“About Cap?”

Remus waved a hand vaguely. “And Hattie, and Lily, and whether he’s got a cold or something worse. Feels weird being here without him.”

Talker hummed his agreement and offered one of his earbuds. “Want to listen to half of Bohemian Rhapsody with me? It’ll give you five minutes and 55 seconds of relative peace.”

“It’s too quiet,” James groaned just before he pressed ‘play’.

Across the aisle, Remus saw Kasey roll his eyes. “Your husband is sick, dude, not dead. He doesn’t talk to you on planes anyway.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Bliz.”

“Oh my god,” Kasey muttered under his breath, securing his headphones tightly over his ears.

James let his head flop to the side with a baleful look. “Loops, you’re on my side, right?”

“I’ve got you, buddy,” he assured him. Talker stifled a laugh, and the opening chords began as more clouds rolled past. Remus let himself drift with them, taking deep breaths to soothe his worries; Sirius would be fine. He had the sniffles, or at worst the flu, and he would be join them for the second week in top form. There was nothing to worry about.

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

“He’s got pneumonia,” Lily sighed.

“He what?”

“A mild case, but the doctor said it would take a week of antibiotics and rest before he’s close to a hundred percent. No hockey for about a month, too.”

Remus stared at the wall of his empty hotel room, lost for words. “Well, fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Pretty m—absolutely not, go lay down.” There was a rustling noise and two grumbling voices. “Sorry about that.”

“Will you put me on speaker real quick?” Remus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose until he heard a faint click. “Sirius? You there?”

“Yes! I miss you, and I was just going to tell you that it’s really not that—”

“Please sit your ass down. Lily, if he tries to fuck around and find out exactly how nasty pneumonia is, you have full permission to sit on him. I miss you too, love,” he added after a short pause.

“He’s blowing you a kiss,” Lily informed him. “Oh, and he’s giving me the puppy eyes.”

“Resist if you can. Love you both. Give Hattie lots of cuddles from me.”

“We will,” she promised.

The second the call ended, Remus groaned aloud and thumped his head against the wall before padding down the hall. Just my fucking luck. The door swung open after the second knock; Arthur’s face fell. “How bad is it?”

“Mild pneumonia.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep. Doctor said he’d be out for a month.”

Arthur rubbed his eyes and nodded, motioning Remus back towards his own room. “Get some rest, then. I’ll let everyone know in the morning. Any idea how he got it?”

“Not a clue.”

“Thanks for the update, Loops. Sleep tight.”

“I will,” Remus lied as he headed back for a sleepless night between cold sheets.

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

Lily sent updates every few hours; most reported that Sirius was sleeping well and looking better with each passing day, but Remus couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly guilty. If something happened while he was hundreds of miles away, he would never forgive himself. He had sworn in front of their closest friends and family to be there in sickness and in health—what kind of husband ditches their partner for one of a million roadies?

This one. He stabbed a piece of broccoli and shoved it in his mouth. And then he goes and makes an idiot of himself for the world to see.

The interview was supposed to be easy, but he couldn’t let it roll off anymore. Not when he couldn’t answer their questions even when he wanted to, not when he was states away from the love of his life while he was sick, not when he felt helpless and shoved aside in every current aspect of his life.

“So.” The chair next to him creaked as Talker planted his full weight in it and set his plate decisively on the table.

“What.”

“Oh, pissy Loops. Haven’t seen you in a while. Talked to Cap yet?”

“Yeah.” Another piece of broccoli fell victim to his frustration.

“How’s he sound?”

“Better.”

“Sweet.” Talker continued to munch away on his dinner. “Anyone ever told you that you have the general disposition of a wet cat when you’re upset?”

Remus tried and failed to keep down a smile. “I seem to recall you bringing it up on occasion, yes.”

His dark eyes softened and he bumped their elbows together. “He’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

“Really, Loops. Cap’s going to be just fine. Lily doesn’t sugar-coat this kind of stuff, and he’s a tough guy. Mild pneumonia doesn’t stand a chance. Besides, we’ve only got four days left and we need you to kick some ass out there.”

If Remus was a little more emotionally vulnerable, he would’ve burst into tears. Instead, he settled for leaning his temple against Talker’s with a quiet ‘thanks’ and allowed himself to be pulled into a side hug. Across the dining hall, Finn shot him a thumbs-up and a wink. “Love you, man.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Talker teased. “The internet is already coming to your aid, you know.”

“About…?”

“Not only have those asshole reporters become a new meme, you’ve also got a shit ton of people bringing up past mistreatment of athletes in the press room. You’re the face of a revolution, Loops.”

“I’ve been the face of too many revolutions for one person,” he groused, not even bothering to duck out of the way when Talker ruffled his hair.

“Well, one more won’t kill you.”

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

Remus’ heart raced as he stepped off the plane. The logical part of him knew that Sirius would be waiting outside the security gate, but everything else screamed to see him now, now, right now so he could be sure he was alright. At least he had sounded healthier on the phone the night before—Remus wasn’t sure what he would do otherwise.

“Deep breaths,” James reminded him as they walked toward the baggage claim. “I’m sure he’s—”

An excited shout broke through the thick crowds. Remus’ heart skipped a beat, and then he was running, racing through the people that parted for him as his vision tunneled. His carry-on hit the ground with a low thud that he hardly heard as Sirius lifted him straight off the ground and held him tight.

“I love you,” Remus said immediately, locking his ankles around Sirius’ lower back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Are you okay?”

In lieu of a response, Sirius pulled back and kissed him, cradling one side of his face in his warm, warm hand. Two weeks may as well have been an eternity. He broke away after a moment, searching his face for any signs of illness or pain. “I’m fine,” Sirius said softly, as if he could read his mind. “I promise. A little tired and sore, but there’s no lasting damage.”

“Don’t do that again,” Remus said into the side of his neck as he hugged him close. He smelled like home. “Not when I have to leave.”

Sirius’ arms were steady around his back. “I won’t.”

“I’m going to grill you on everything as soon as we get home.”

“I know.”

“But right now, I’m just going to hug you because I missed you and I worried myself into a hole, like, every night.”

He could feel Sirius’ smile against his shoulder. “I know.”

[wildxwired]

Okay, I’ve never done this before and really not got a clue..

So how about Ian and Mickey travelling to the U.K. ? You know, they bought a house they’ve been re modelling and before they settle down with kids they decide to go for it…. Or something 😬 xXx

Hey! This was a lot of fun to write, so I hope it’s the kind of thing you were after. As I’m from Manchester, and it’s the city I know most about, and I know Cam likes ManU, it seemed a logical choice!

Fit As Fuck

Mickey knew it was really the soccer that had Ian wanting to visit the U.K. for their five year wedding anniversary, but he had to give his husband an A for effort in trying to convince Mickey otherwise.

“The music scene, Mick, it’s amazing! Oasis, The Smiths, Joy Division, it’s the birthplace of so many amazing bands.”

Mickey had eyed him with bemused amusement over breakfast. “Do you even know who any of those bands are?”

“All I know, Mickey, is that, after all this time, you are still my wonder wall.”

Mickey had thrown a bagel at him in response.

-

“But look at the architecture! It’s so gothic and badass. Would you even think this was a library? Shit, check out this cathedral! Holy shit, they have a Gotham hotel! It’s beautiful.”

“Sure, the ‘architecture’,” Mickey had snorted.

-

“Look at all this crime history, Mick! Gangsters, prisons, drug crime through the ages. This place has been a thug paradise since 79 AD!”

“You even know what AD means?”

“Well, no. But it’s most famous prison is called Srangeways, is haunted as shit, and held one of the longest prison riots back in the nineties…caused a ton of damage.”

Okay, so maybe that was kind of neat.

-

“There��s a masked activist who messes with the cops, helps out the homeless, and gives out weed for free in the city centre.”

“Good man.”

-

“Holy crap, just look at all these street food markets. Hey! This one makes fun of hipsters, you love to make fu—”

“Alright, enough!” Mickey had finally snapped around day nine of back to back city facts. He’d accepted his fate four days ago and just wanted to see how long Ian would last, but he finally had to admit defeat.

“Does that mean…”

Mickey had sighed and grumbled, “Yeah, we can go to fucking Manchester, alright?”

-

Which is how he ends up, a seven hour plane ride later, sitting next to some anemic looking body of water, drinking a ridiculously large beer and watching his husband from behind his sunglasses excitedly flip through leaflets.

“Who the fuck names a street *Canal* street?”

“We’re next to a canal, Mick,” Ian replies, pointing to the water beside them without looking up from the leaflets. “This is a historic part of Manchester’s famous LGBTQ scene.”

“They know there’s no C on the street sign, right?”

“Yup, it keeps getting stolen,” Ian flickers his gaze up to Mickey to give him a brief pointed glare.

“Well I didn’t fucking steal it!” Mickey protests, and Ian —the asshole— just laughs. Mickey takes another gulp of his beer and leans back in his seat, watching the colourful array of people stroll by for a few moments before turning back to his busy husband. “You know we’re only here a week, right? That looks like at least a month’s worth of shit.” He gestures to the towering stack of *must see* locations and activities and Ian looks back at him with sheepish glee.

“Well, we don’t have to do them all. We could lose a few, like, uhm…the cathedral, the science and industry museum — though that arcade game exhibition did look kind of cool.”

“Nah, don’t get rid of that one. I wanna kick your ass at old school Space Invaders.”

Ian smiles and puts the leaflet back, rummaging through for another. “Okay, so maybe we don’t *have* to go to Pieminister.”

Mickey quickly slams his beer back to the table. “Are you out of your damn mind? This is England, the home of putting random meat in a heavy pastry, drenching it in gravy and somehow making it delicious.”

“Oh, so you did read the website. Okay, we’ll keep that one too.” Ian shuffles through a few more before pulling out a sleek black leaflet with a golden shining crest. “I guess we could…” he trails, looking up at Mickey with those big stupid puppy eyes.

Mickey sighs. “Don’t even think about it, dumbass. I’m not having you drag me halfway across the damn planet to the city of your soccer dreams only to have you mope around the damn place all week.”

“So, you mean, we can go?” Ian looks all dopey and hopeful and it still manages to make something flip in Mickey’s stomach.

He reaches for his backpack and pulls the crumpled envelope out of the side pocket before tossing it to Ian. “Here, Red. No more pouty face.”

Ian slips a finger into the torn envelope and pulls out the two tickets. He gasps. “Mick! This is…are these…oh my god. You got us box seats to the Man U v Arsenal match tomorrow!”

Mickey shrugs like it’s nothing, like he hasn’t been trying to arrange this for weeks, like he didn’t have to become bffs with the hotel manager and promise to call her stalker ex and threaten to disembowel him in his most threatening ‘American bad boy’ tone.

“Yeah, and what?”

Ian scrambles to stand, yanking Mickey out of his seat so he can pull him into a thankful kiss, holding Mickey’s face in both hands as he softly devours Mickey whole.

They don’t stop until a passing couple wolf whistles at them, one of them calling “Get a room!” only for the other to argue “No way, they’re fit as fuck!”

Ian pulls back with a giggle, and as Mickey stares into his husband’s shiny happy eyes, he can’t help but agree (whatever the hell ‘fit as fuck’ means).

Other prompt fills

Support the creator

[mypoisonedvine]

Ooooh what if one day yn's mother say: "well, its time to find you a husband" what would be Lee's reaction?

(warnings for mom being an asshole, implied body shaming, a bit of degradation and manipulation from lee, spanking, facial, rough sex)

Lee knew that he was too possessive over you.  Just cause he was jealous and a drunk and a pervert didn’t mean he was an idiot; he knew that he had to keep his desire to control you suppressed, lest you or anyone else catch onto it.  That didn’t mean it was easy, though.  Especially when your loudmouth of a mother (and, unfortunately, his loudmouth of a wife) decided to bring up the topic of marriage at the dinner table.

“I heard from Mrs. Rafferty today,” she said with a smug little smirk on her face before taking a second bite of her peas and carrots.

“What about, mama?” you asked her in reply.

“Her son was asking about you,” she answered, looking proud of herself while Lee felt his heart sinking into his gut.

“Asking?” you furrowed your brow.  He hoped you were as irritated by this idea as he was, and not secretly excited or something.  You’d have hell to pay if you were.

“Yes,” she grinned, “asking about if you were single.”

“Why wouldn’t he ask me that?” you scoffed.

“Oh, there you go with your feminism again,” your mother rolled her eyes.  That made Lee laugh a little, and you shot him a glare quickly.  “This is how a gentleman courts a lady: by asking her parents.”

“So, he asked his mom to ask you to ask me if I’m willing to go out with him?” you tried to reason through the logic as you reached for the serving spoon to get a scoop of mashed potatoes.

“Are you sure you should go for a second helping?” she needled you with a raised eyebrow, totally ignoring the original topic.  “I mean, if you wanna keep this boy’s attention and all.”

“Lay off her,” Lee insisted.

“I just want her to find a husband, is that so cruel?”

“What’s the rush for a husband?” he frowned, trying to control his temper but already feeling rage starting to bubble up in his chest.

“Lee, you’re a man, so you don’t understand this, but a single woman has nothin’,” your mother sneered.  “Can’t get a bank account, can’t own a house, can’t buy a car... a husband is a woman’s way to exist in the world.”

It was a revealing glimpse into your mother’s philosophy, no doubt, but not enough to stop you from getting more mashed potatoes.

“Not to mention,” she continued, “it’s the only way you’ll ever get her out of your house, which I imagine you’ll want soon.”

Lee realized he probably should want his adult stepdaughter to move out, because that’s what a normal stepfather would want.  And though you and him knew he wanted you more than anything else, he had to keep up the act a little bit longer.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he mumbled unconvincingly. Enough to convince her, apparently.

"So? Will you let him come over sometime?" she pressed.

You looked at him for approval, but he kept his expression blank (as best he could). Of course he didn't want you to agree, but he understood that you were somewhat required to.

"Um, okay," you agreed hesitantly.

"Oh, wonderful!" your mother beamed. "Honey, you won't give him the third degree, will you?"

It took him a moment to realize she was talking to him. "No promises," he smirked with another sip of his beer.

That night, he told her he was going to take you for a drive to give you a talk about marriage and relationships. And it wasn't completely a lie.

"Say you're mine," he demanded through his teeth as he pounded into you, making the entire car shake back and forth.

"I'm yours!" you yelped.

He spanked you for emphasis as he instructed, "Louder!"

"Yours, daddy!" you sobbed, head falling down onto the leather of the backseat while he held your hips up and continued to pound into you from behind. He'd already made you come twice, but feeling your walls pulse around him again was too good to ignore as his orgasm approached quickly.

"Fuck, turn around," he grunted as he pulled out, watching you spin to face him as he furiously stroked his cock. Grabbing your neck tight, he held you in place as he neared his peak. "Gonna paint this pretty little mug," he purred, "open your mouth, sweetpea."

You did, closing your eyes and sticking out your tongue as he moaned, striping your face with his white, warm seed. More of it than even he expected, in fact.

"Fuck," he sighed as it started to cool down, his hand still lazily moving over his length until he was sure every drop was on your skin. "Swallow what's in your mouth, princess."

You did, humming like it was your favorite taste in the world.

"Good girl," he smiled. You cautiously opened your eyes, beaming and licking your lips as you looked back up at him with those gorgeous, innocent eyes. "You know nobody's ever gonna make you feel as good as I make ya feel, right?"

"Yes, daddy," you nodded.

"You know nobody's gonna marry you once they know I popped your cherry, right?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good," he smiled proudly, leaning down to swipe his thumb through the cooling seed on your face, bringing it to your lips to lick clean. "I know you're my good little girl, I'm not worried. That boy will come over, I'll scare 'im off, and we'll be together like we're meant to."

You nodded again, sucking his thumb deeper into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. You're so adorable when you act like a needy, cum-hungry whore.

"And if you start gettin' any ideas about boys, or marriage, or leavin' me," Lee continued softly, "just remember how it feels to have your face covered in my come."

[platypanthewriter]

Unless...? Ch. 7

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Steve Harrington wants to be best friends with Billy Hargrove.  He wants to marry him--as friends--so they'll always be together, and he's going crazy, trying not to be weird about it, and scare Billy off.  Also he's in a band, and they run a bar.Billy's buckling under an onslaught of friendly Harrington flirtation.  Also he's just been hired as the new bartender. For Day 2 of Febuwhump, "I can't take this anymore."

Steve talked Billy’s ear off for hours—rehearsal wasn’t until the afternoon—and listened to Billy on speaker, making himself granola and yogurt, a protein shake, and doing his workout.

“S-sorry,” Billy grunted, lifting weights, and Steve felt heat all across his face again. His hands had gone all sweaty, like Billy was some—like he was an older, cooler kid at school that Steve wanted to impress. Which was stupid, Steve told himself, because Billy was a normal dude, living in a grotty apartment with carpet the color of used diapers.

“...whatcha doing,” Steve asked, considering going for a run, since he couldn’t settle.

“Triceps,” Billy huffed, and Steve couldn’t help picturing Billy’s arms, the way they strained the tight sleeves of his jacket. “Uh,” Billy panted. “Play me something?”

“Oh, uh, sure, okay,” Steve laughed, because he hadn’t been sure what to talk about, and he’d been wondering whether to hang up.

“You...driving back Monday?” Billy asked, as Steve opened his guitar case, and considered what to play.

“Nah, I got rehearsals,” Steve said distractedly, and then realized as he started tuning that Billy’d been quiet a while. “...hon?” he asked, and then bit his lips together, flushing, as something crashed on Billy’s end, and he yelped. Steve winced, grimacing. “Sorry.”

“Am I your honey now?!” Billy asked, snickering. “Y’know…” he said, and Steve relaxed, a little, because he could hear the smile. “—for somebody who’s always worried he’s too much, I feel like you’re never around.”

“Well, you left, shithead,” Steve pointed out. “You skipped out on our damn slumber party.”

“I thought I’d see you in a few days, asshole,” Billy shot back, laughing. “Didn’t know I was signing up to be, like, a band widow.”

“I thought maybe you’d want some space, I told ‘em I’d stick around a while,” Steve admitted, laughing.

“I don’t want space from you, moron,” Billy hissed, and Steve let that settle over him, soaking into him like water on a dried out sponge. He could feel himself getting soft and gushy, and his eyes went a little blurry.

“I—I’ll tell ‘em I need to wrap it up,” he said, kinda hoarsely. “I’ll, um. I’ll be back. Soon. After next weekend maybe?”

“I mean, do what you need to do, it’s your job,” Billy muttered, but he sounded kinda pouty, and Steve laughed.

“You know I’m only here ‘cause I was scared of scaring you off,” Steve told him, and Billy sighed.

“You’re not gonna, moron,” he said, and Steve pushed that into the back of his head to think about later, and dove into practicing songs for their wedding, until Billy was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“So next week,” Steve said, finally, as Billy’s panting giggles petered off. “You marrying me?”

“Jesus,” Billy mumbled, muffled-sounding, and Steve remembered he’d said he was curling up on the couch.

“You don’t gotta,” Steve told him, seriously. “I won’t—I’m not gonna be mad or anything, I know you don’t—want to, as much, uh, as I do—but if you do want to, I wanna—I wanna plan—make some plans, y’know. Um, make it—make it nice.”

“Make it nice,” Billy repeated, sounding less grouchy than usual, and more in shock, and Steve wanted again to just load everybody Billy’d ever dated into cement shoes and then a dump truck, and tip them into Lake Superior.

“Yeah, nothing super fancy, I mean, but a cake, maybe some friends?”

“...friends. Wait, your friends?” Billy asked, sounding disbelieving.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to tell Robin she was right the whole time, I’m gay for you and I love you. I mean, it’s half true.”

“...half true,” Billy said, sounding strangled.

“I mean,” Steve said, feeling his cheeks heat, again, and rubbing his face. “It’s just—it’s not like we’re really marrying for taxes, right. I—I gotta love you to wanna marry you this bad.” Billy made a weird noise on the other end, and Steve winced. “Uh,” he said, grimacing, “—so I thought I’d just—just tell her she’s right, you know? Tell the band and everybody—okay, you’re right, I do, I do love him, we’re getting married, bring us presents?”

“...you wanna tell everybody you’re bi and invite them to the wedding,” Billy repeated blankly.

“Well, here’s the thing,” Steve said, pacing around. “It’s logical, okay—”

“It’s logical,” Billy repeated, and Steve hissed.

“Ssssht! Look, I know this dude who can perform weddings, alright? We can do it somewhere nice! Nicer than the courthouse. Have Jonathan take some photos.”

“Photos,” Billy whispered, and Steve groaned.

“I want photos! We’re gonna look nice!”

“...this…” Billy said, into the silence, and took a shaky breath. “Steve, this—this sounds like a real wedding.”

“Well, yeah, you told me to get a license and shit, right, it is a real wedding.”

“No, I mean,” Billy said, and then paused. “...I—I mean it sounds real, like you—like you want to—to be married—”

He cut off, and Steve waited, and then blew his cheeks out in frustration, and took a deep breath. “We don’t have to,” he said again, shutting his eyes. “You say the word and I’ll just—I’ll drop it, okay, I promise. I won’t—I won’t call you husband anymore—”

Billy made a wheezing noise, and Steve waited to see if he’d talk, but he didn’t.

“Billy. Just tell me if I’m—being too much. I’ll back off, I promise.”

“You’re not too much,” Billy said instantly, and Steve swallowed, grabbing the phone with both hands, and wishing he was holding Billy. “You’re not, you—you’re fine, uh. Just. Are you...sure. I’m what you want.”

“You’re exactly who I want,” Steve growled. “If you don’t wanna wedding I’ll just keep coming to see you, and—and I’ll keep annoying the shit out of you at work, and dragging you over for slumber parties, and when one of us drinks too much we can stay together so nobody falls down any stairs, and…”

“...hugs,” Billy sighed, and Steve flushed, nodding.

“And when you’re having a shitty day I’ll pick you up again and carry your muscled ass around until you feel better,” he promised. ���Wish I was doing that.”

“And you want me to sleep in your bed,” Billy said, flatly, but Steve was ready for that sticking point.

“I’ll order a couch I can sleep on,” he said quickly. “Or we can move somewhere with more rooms. Two people paying rent, right? We can get something nice.”

“...we should just up and buy something, then,” Billy laughed. “All your rockstar money.”

“Okay,” Steve said instantly, and Billy made a weird choking noise. “No, shut up, listen, it makes sense, right, we’ll be together, we can have our own place. I can soundproof a room to practice in.”

“...picket fence and a dog,” Billy laughed, unevenly, and Steve wished violently that he could grab the dumbass and squeeze him until he stopped freaking out.

“You want a dog, you get a dog,” he said quietly. “You can have five. Ten.” Billy was quiet on the other end for a long time, and Steve bit his lips together. “...up to you what you want, okay?” he said finally, and heard Billy take a shuddery breath.

“Gimme a chance to tell my sister,” he said, and Steve bit his lips, nodding. “Let her...try and talk me out’ve it. Or she’ll punch me in the head.”

“Okay,” Steve laughed, his stomach falling a little.

“A-and then—fine. Not—not this weekend. N-next. Weekend. She’s not gonna talk me out of it, so. Let’s,” Billy said hoarsely. “Let’s—let’s do it. A-a wedding. The whole—the whole works. If you—if you’re willing to give it to me, I’ll take it. Fucking—moron not to take it. Gimme—everything.”

Steve yelped a laugh and covered his mouth, his vision going blurry. “Jesus,” he whispered. “Holy shit, yes. Gonna—gonna sweep you off your feet. I gotta—I gotta go, I gotta plan our wedding—”

“Okay,” Billy said, laughing too, kinda wet and sniffly, but still a laugh, and Steve couldn’t help giggling too.

“I’m gonna make you so goddamn happy,” he threatened. “You’re not gonna know what the fuck hit you.”

“Says you,” Billy snorted. “Maybe I’ll make you the happiest moron alive—”

“You will,” Steve breathed, and Billy made a strangled choking noise again, yelled ‘fuck you, Harrington’, and hung up. Steve flopped onto his back on the bed and screamed until the neighboring rooms banged on the walls. “Holy shit,” he panted, wiping his eyes. “Holy fuck.”

He dialled Robin.

“Hey there, heterosexual white male,” she answered, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m gay and you should come to our wedding,” he said, and she actually paused, for a second.

“...bi?” she suggested, and Steve grimaced.

“Um, whichever. I’m marrying Billy for, um, fucking reasons. I’m gonna suck his cock. I’m telling the truth now.”

“...for some reason that makes it feel like you aren’t,” she said slowly, and Steve groaned.

“We will be having butt sex,” he tried, and she was quiet for a while.

“What’s going on,” she said finally.

“You were right,” he tried, frustrated. “I was wrong, I—I am marrying Billy for—for totally normal reasons, you’re my friend, you have to come!”

“...totally normal reasons,” she repeated.

“Normal, uh, absolutely normal gay sex reasons,” he hissed. “You were right, it’s gay sex reasons. Gonna—gonna let him put his, um, his dick, uh, up my poop chute.”

“Oh my god,” she wheezed, cackling. “Steve, what the fuck is going on?!”

“Up my...ass?” he corrected uncertainly, and she laughed harder.

“Steve!”

“Yessss?” he hissed, aggravated.

“What the actual fuck? What are you even—”

“You said it was obvious!” he growled back at her. “You were right! I give in! I’m gay and I’m gay-marrying Billy and we’re having gay dog babies! You were right and you have to come to my super gay wedding!”

“...gay dog babies,” she said, sounding mystified.

“Look, are you coming, or what,” he huffed, and she made a weird muppety honking noise. Because they’d been friends a long time, he could imagine the exaggerated face she was making. He glared at the wall. “You gonna miss my wedding?”

“No?!” she sputtered. “I just—you sound like a cartoon, what’s even happening?!”

“I’m marrying Billy,” Steve said, again. “Weekend after next. I want—I want it nice, y’know, I want pictures and...things.”

“Awww, you’re such a dork,” Robin laughed. “When?”

“Help me get everyone there, d’you think, like, Saturday morning would work?”

“Cake for breakfast,” Robin said thoughtfully, but then sighed. “It’s a long drive, man, how early?”

“Oh,” Steve said, grimacing. “What about afternoon? After lunch?”

“There is gonna be cake, right,” she said, and he nodded as he answered.

“‘Course. You think I’m gonna marry my man without cake?”

“That sounded more real,” she said thoughtfully, and Steve rolled his eyes. “I’ll get Jonathan and Joyce up there. You know Dustin is gonna actually kill you.”

“He’ll have to fight Nancy,” Steve said grimly. “She’s gonna break my neck. I’m kinda afraid to tell her, honestly, she always said she’d be my Best Woman.”

“I sure don’t wanna do all that planning,” Robin said, “Though the bachelor’s party sounds fun. I know this is a bizarre idea,” she said, laughing, “—but like. You could wait.”

“I don’t want to,” Steve said, registering a little whine in his voice, and Robin cracked up laughing. “What if he changes his mind,” Steve muttered, like a totally reasonable adult, and she laughed harder.

“You could just bone him,” she suggested.

“Ah,” Steve said, grimacing. “Yeah, um. That’s—I am, um, just, like, really...horny. And he’s, uh, he’s saving himself for marriage. So, um, we gotta. We gotta tie the knot, to, uh, to do the do. Do the butt. Stuff.”

Robin whooped with laughter. “Now I know that’s not true,” she snickered, and Steve had a horrible image pop into his head of Billy taking dates home.

“...oh,” he said. “Is—is he—has he been—”

“He’s not cheating on you,” she groaned, laughing. “But he got around before you swept him off his feet, y’know. And he wasn’t married before, moron, you think he got a divorce or something from that asswipe? He was living in sin.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve said, sighing with relief. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Come back tonight and shove him over the bar before he dies of horniness,” she suggested, and Steve’s dick twitched, like that was even anything he should be imagining.

“Ungh,” he said, around something in his throat.

She groaned. “You two are giving me blue balls, and that’s weird in so many ways.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, trying not to imagine grabbing Billy by the collar and pushing him against anything, while Billy laughed and licked his lips. Billy was so much heavier than anyone Steve had dated, solid and strong and warm, and Steve felt a pang of loneliness, sitting there on his motel bed.

“I’m just saying,” Robin sing-songed. “I mean, if you really wanna marry him, good for you two, but like. Don’t be surprised when Dustin fills all your shoes with Jell-O, keys your car, and puts dye in your showerhead so it looks like The Shining when you turn it on—”

“Holy crap,” Steve mumbled, grimacing.

“Nancy’s gonna probably ask you shit like ‘when did you first know you were in love with him?’” Robin asked, her voice sugary.

When he made fun of my Youtube channel for hours, Steve thought, sighing as he remembered Billy sitting on the bar, singing along.

“...anyway, I’m marrying him,” he mumbled, huffily. “You can come if you want.”

“Oh, I’ll be there,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t miss your gay butt sex marriage for the world.”

“If you’re nice,” he hissed. “There’s gonna be cake if you’re not an asshole.”

“Maybe I’ll eat cake and then tell him how dumb you sound,” she said thoughtfully, and Steve winced.

“No, don’t, don’t tell him it sounded like I...didn’t want to, he’s already freaked out.”

“...hrm,” she said. “Did you sound as stupid saying it to him?”

“He said yes,” Steve pointed out, because he wasn’t sure.

“What the fuck did you even say? Put a ring on it for ass access?”

“No!” Steve yelped. “No, jesus, I just said I wanted to.”

“Hrrmmm,” she said. “This sounds deeply suspicious, and I’m not sure why.”

“It does not,” Steve told her, huffily, and she snorted a laugh.

Telling his bandmates went better. Steve kept it simple—‘Come to our wedding! There’s cake!’—and when they started to tease him he just agreed with everything they said until they stopped talking.

Finally, he called Billy again. “Do you still want Captain America and the Winter Soldier on the cake,” he asked anxiously, because everyone was laughing at him, and he was starting to want to just elope. “I mean, they’re friends. Just friends. And we’re pretending that, um.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Billy muttered. “Yeah, sure, Steve, with you to the end of the line.”

“We could get something else if you want,” Steve said lamely. “I’ve seen, um, sometimes they have Hot Wheels. Get you a Camaro.”

“Y’know I never thought I’d say this, but I think the superheroes sound more like a grownup wedding cake, let’s go with them,” Billy said, obviously trying not to laugh, and Steve both wanted to shove him, and pull him into a hug.

“Love you,” he said, automatically, and Billy made a squeaking grunt noise, like a large truck trying to brake on a hill.

“...don’t break me before the wedding,” he muttered, and Steve realized if it was a real wedding, he’d make a joke there, something like ‘oh no, I’ll save that for after’.

He smacked his hand over his face. “Um. Everyone’s, uh, coming. Jonathan’s—he’s gonna take pictures. Of us. Everyone.”

“With our action figure cake toppers,” Billy said, snorting a laugh, and Steve winced a little, because he didn’t want his wedding to Billy to be stupid, something people laughed at.

He swallowed hard. “Um, yeah.”

“...you still there?” Billy asked, and Steve nodded, then realized that wasn’t helpful.

“Uh,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Billy laughed. “You changing your mind already?”

“No!” Steve yelped. “No, no, I’m not, I just. I—want to.”

“...but?” Billy asked quietly.

“Everyone I know is an asshole,” Steve said frankly. “I thought they could, y’know, maybe be happy for me, but apparently they’re pricks, so—”

“You know you’re marrying one of those pricks,” Billy said, like Steve wasn’t aware.

“I know I’m marrying my favorite, and everybody else can go fuck themselves,” Steve muttered, and Billy laughed.

“Well, you change your mind, you let me know,” he said.

“Maybe I’ll let them have cake if they promise to bring rad presents,” Steve allowed, relaxing a little.

“If not, I’ll throw them out for you,” Billy promised, and Steve’s heart warmed with the image of Billy carrying a yelling Robin over his head out the door.

He brought up the Costco cake-ordering website, and to his horror, there was nothing brand-name on it. “Billy,” he said bleakly. “There’s not even Spiderman.”

“We don’t want Spiderman anyway,” Billy said reassuringly, “—what would we do, have one of us be Doc Ock? Two lawfully wedded Spidermans? Send me the link.”

Steve copied and pasted it in as a text, staring at the puffy dinosaurs and soccer balls. “...it says some lady returned a dinosaur cake because she thought the shape of the visible feet made up the number 666,” he mumbled.

“...there’s a princess clown cake,” Billy snickered, and Steve imagined himself wedded with a clown cake. Perfect.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Maybe I should just get a plain white one. Maybe there’s a cake supply place where I can get a little groom and groom.”

“I’ll get a little Bucky and Steve if you want,” Billy said, laughing.

“Nah, it was dumb,” Steve said, sighing. “I just—”

“I’ll get them,” Billy promised, and Steve laughed, his smile going a little goofy, but he let it, because it wasn’t like anybody was there to see.

“...really?”

“Yeah, really. I’ll get my best guy his little superhero toys. I got this.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughed. “Fuck. Love you, man, seriously.”

“...they gotta be on eBay or something,” Billy muttered distractedly, and Steve listened, grinning at the wall.

He decided it wasn’t so bad if the wedding was a little silly, as long as he got to marry Billy Hargrove, in the end.

The cake was easy—the lady paused for a long second when he said he wanted to put Bucky Barnes and Captain America in a heart, and then she suggested some stars as well. The little yard by the bar where they performed was public space, and the owner said it would be empty in the afternoon. He checked the weather, and it wasn’t even supposed to rain.

Billy drove back out on Friday, and Steve looked out mid-performance to see him dancing with a red-headed woman. The song ended, and Steve tried not to long to be her—not that it wouldn’t be weird to suddenly have boobs and get talked down to at job interviews, but it seemed, for a few minutes at least, like it’d even out if he could have Billy pull him onto the dance floor with a soft smile and an arm around Steve’s waist. His eyes stung a little thinking about it—Billy liking it when Robin teased them about being a couple, instead of going tense and grim, Billy smiling when Steve held his hand, instead of looking down at their linked hands like Steve was doing something bizarre.

Billy wanting to stay in Steve’s hotel room, and next to him in bed.

The thought of what Steve might have discovered had Tommy not ghosted him reared its ugly head again, and Steve swallowed it back, lowering his gaze to his guitar to check the tuning during the applause. It wasn’t like he’d actually leaned in and tasted Tommy’s panting mouth, he told himself. There was nothing concrete he should have told Billy—and Billy didn’t mind him, mostly, as long as he didn’t push too hard.

Maybe he wouldn’t even have liked it, he thought guiltily, and he was tying himself in knots for no reason at all. It was probably weird, kissing somebody with...stubble, and a muscled chest, and broad, warm shoulders. Somebody with a cock in his pants. The idea of a dick up his ass had always made Steve wrinkle his nose a little—everything he’d read said it took a while, right when things started heating up, and sometimes people hated it, and he’d already done his time in that didn’t-know-what-he-was-doing-in-bed phase already.

He grimaced, remembering Mandi, who’d had to stop a kiss, cough, and tell him not to choke her with his tongue—and then he couldn’t help imagining Billy—Tommy—a man—stomping out on their wedding night, because Steve was so awful at ass sex. Billy’d left when Steve was just too weird the week before, with the suits and the thongs and everything.

Steve wondered, suddenly, if he’d been so bad at handjobs that was the reason Tommy had left, and he had to bite back hysterical laughter onstage.

When he glanced up again—a few measures into a song he was performing entirely from muscle memory—Billy’s head was tipped back laughing, and Steve jerked his attention back to his guitar again to avoid thinking about kissing along his fiance’s adam’s apple. Steve focused on the music, singing with gusto, and once the set was over, somebody smacked his back and said, “You were great once you woke up, man.”

Billy waved, and Steve waved back, automatically, trying not to stare at where Billy’s arm was around the woman’s shoulders—and then with a swell of relief that hit him like a tall wave, he registered her Camaro tattoo that matched Billy’s skateboard, and realized, light-headedly, that she was Billy’s sister. Billy was frowning a little, and Steve grinned easily back at him. Billy watched him warily, and Steve pointed to his ring finger and kissed it, then watched Billy nearly disappear into the shouting crowd, his red, smiling face obscured by his hand.

By the time Steve got off the stage, put his guitar in its case, and figured out the next day’s practice, Billy and his sister were gone. There was a text on Steve’s phone with the address where they were having dinner—a Korean barbeque place, open until 3am. It was nearly one.

When Steve showed up at the restaurant—his heart pounding, and his palms sweaty, because Billy obviously listened to his sister, and he’d probably call the whole stupid plan off if Steve couldn’t win her over—he had an edible bouquet and his nicest shirt on.

Billy was already at a table, and as Steve walked closer, he could hear a woman’s voice saying “No, come on, I’m not saying that. I’m kinda worried you feel the need to be drunk introducing me to him—”

“Hey, babe,” Steve cut her off, leaning around the corner of the booth to kiss the side of Billy’s head over his ear, since he had his head in his arms. “How you doin’?”

Billy groaned. He smelled of tequila, and his sister levelled a deeply suspicious glower at Steve.

“Nice bouquet,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “That from a fan?”

“No, it’s for Billy,” Steve huffed, and Billy raised his head to blink woozily at the skewered pineapple flowers. “Didn’t figure you’d wanna juggle driving flowers home in a hot car. At least you can eat these.”

“Hrm,” said his sister, frowning at Steve.

“You okay?” Steve asked Billy, and he nodded, rubbing his face and groaning into his fingers.

“...get something in my stomach,” he muttered. “Drinking on an empty stomach.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, wondering, as he exchanged glances with Billy’s sister, if he should come clean.

“I’m gonna hit the can,” Billy said, lurching to his feet, and Steve scrambled out of the booth to let him pass.

“So this is all happening kinda fast,” Billy’s sister said crisply, and Steve blinked at her. Her frown was darker than her brother’s.

“...I guess?” he said, cautiously. “Once he finally said yes, I didn’t wanna wait until he changed his mind, kinda?”

“...finally?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I mean, I told him I’ll stop asking if he wants, and nothing changes, I’m not gonna be mad or anything, I’m not—he said he doesn’t feel, like, pressured,” Steve said quickly, clutching at the menu.

“...how long you been asking?” she muttered, glancing towards the bathrooms.

“...almost as long as I’ve known him,” Steve admitted, wincing. “I can see why he didn’t take it serious—”

“...how long is that,” she said, raising her eyebrows, but she was starting to look entertained instead of worried.

“...months?” Steve mumbled. “He got hired after Christmas, right? I think I first asked him in...oh, maybe May or June?”

“...so an October wedding isn’t a huge rush,” she said, relaxing back against her seat with a sigh. “Jesus, Billy. I thought he met you, like, last week. How’d you even...you’ve been long-distance this whole time? He gonna quit his job and move out here? Has he been driving out here to meet you this whole year and he’s just telling me he was in the neighborhood?!”

Steve realized he was a very well kept secret, and waved his hands. “No, no! I work at the same place he does! I’m just here for a couple weeks. I live a fifteen minute drive from him. Usually.”

“...huh,” she said, thoughtfully. “So he’ll keep his job? That’s cool, I think he likes it a lot.”

“I’m gonna go check on him,” Steve said, realizing it had been a while, and also that she was starting to grin with delight, and it kind of made her look like a shark.

Billy was leaning against the sink with his back towards the mirrors, rubbing his face.

“You okay?” Steve asked, sidling around to see his face, and he nodded.

“...yeah,” he mumbled. “I just—I, um,” he cleared his throat, wiping his eyes, and Steve stepped closer.

“You wanna hug,” he asked, just to be sure, and Billy laughed.

“God, yes,” he whispered, and then oofed as Steve yanked him in, squeezing him tight around the shoulders and waist, and nuzzling into the curls at Billy’s neck. “Fuck,” Billy breathed, relaxing against him. “...missed this.”

“You can always have one,” Steve told him, sliding a hand up through the hair at the back of Billy’s head to cup the nape of his neck. “Tell me and I’ll drive out. Just—drop everything. ‘Kay?”

“Shit,” Billy sighed, shakily. “...kinda feel like I’m lying to her, letting her think we’re like...romantic,” he said thickly, “—but this is enough. Right? Fuck. Long’s you don’t get bored.”

“Not gonna get bored,” Steve said, cautiously. “...you, um. You...mean that? Thought maybe you were...y’know, second thoughts. When I saw the tequila shots.”

“No, no, no no no,” Billy mumbled, pushing him back so their faces were a couple inches apart, and Steve could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Uh,” Billy said, wiping his eyes again, and then cupping Steve’s face earnestly with both hands. “Thought I...thought I’d marry somebody...wanted to kiss me,” he slurred, and Steve winced.

“I can kiss you if you want,” he offered, his skin heating feverishly. “If—if you, uh, if you...want me to, I can—at least at the wedding—”

“Nope,” Billy said, brushing his thumbs over Steve’s cheeks, and grinning, a little. “See? You—you’re enough. Somebody...loving me. Loving me that much, you—you’re not too much. You’re just enough, Steve.”

“...I’m...enough?” Steve whispered back, the words hitting him a little harder than he expected. He took a long, shaky breath, staring into Billy’s red-rimmed blue-grey eyes.

“You’re...perfect, perfectly...dumb, perfect...Steve,” Billy stumbled over his words, frowning in concentration, and licked his lips. “You’re ‘nough. Be happy f’rever with my...Steve. You don’t gotta do...anything. Nothing diff’rent. Jus’ right. Not too much.”

“...okay,” Steve whispered back, swallowing. His eyes were stinging, his vision going blurry, and he sniffled, reaching up to rub his nose as Billy’s warm thumbs wiped under his eyelashes.

“M’ so lucky,” Billy mumbled, yanking him into a tight hug again. “Lucky I met you. Lucky you’re...Steve. Thanks, Steve. Don’ change.”

“...sure, man,” Steve choked out, his lungs jerking a little as he tried to breathe. “Love you too,” he whispered, as Billy squeezed him tighter.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

first of all I LOVE your writing!

What about a prompt with Beth borrowing Benny’s clothes? (could be a little spicy but doesn’t need to be)

Thanks!

Strategies for the Advanced Player

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 1336

Summary: "No woman can compete with Benny's love for himself." - Cleo, The Queen's Gambit Benny leaves his things lying around. There has to be something there that'll make him look at Beth the way she wants him to.

She can’t take it any longer.

She thought, when she agreed to this arrangement, that they both understood it for what it was: a ruse. Was Benny’s impressive mental archive of match history something she could benefit from? Yes. Was Beth able to recognize him as a valuable resource? Yes. Was the training he offered, despite those acknowledgements, also just an easy façade for an inevitably carnal relationship? She fucking figured!

Two weeks he’s had her suffering. Two of the five before Paris. Staying in his apartment, drinking his coffee, and sleeping where? On an air mattress that smells like mildew and makes trying to get comfortable enough to sleep an experience equivalent to a child learning to ride a bike (not that anyone ever taught her)—just way too much wobbling side to side.

Maybe Benny does want to keep this professional. Maybe he thinks that much of himself, his stature in the chess world, his imperviousness to her beauty and charisma, his purity as a man truly devoted to chess and coaching a chosen protégé to victory. Bastard. He just might. Except that he can’t be that obtuse, Beth’s certain. She made him aware of her attraction to him and how does he respond? By wearing that fucking robe. Or sometimes no robe! No shirt! Yeah, it kinda brings back memories of her mom dressing way, way down around the house when her fickle husband was still jerking her (them, really, though Beth never felt like more than an observer of the situation or him) around, but that was different. Alma was at sea, depressed, unable to locate even the thinnest straw to grasp. Benny’s flaunting his partial nudity, Beth swears he is. It’s not about relaxing in his own home; it’s about torturing her.

She glares at his back every night he gives her that look and shuts himself in his bedroom. Privacy is a luxury in this dismal apartment and he heightens its appeal by colouring it coquettish. Every morning he emerges, sits across from her at the chessboard, adjusts his pieces—black or white, they alternate, the way the game should be played—with hovering hands and delicate shifts. Making Beth tense. Making Beth want to scream.

Benny’s home is like a vault within a vault. The awkward entry, the narrow trash-lined corridor. The heavy door, the bleak interior. Finally, the bedroom. She’s not sure if it’s her arrival that causes him to draw items of importance close to himself or if that’s how he’s always behaved, but week two cascades into week three and a pounding headache yields to the realization that he’s quit squirreling things away. Away in his room, away from her. Specific things. Copies of books he lectures her about and has always carried back to some secret shelf at the end of the day are suddenly left on the table. One night, Beth expresses an interest in taking a long, solitary walk soon and the next day, she wakes to hear Benny in the shower and find that he’s left her his key on the kitchen counter where she prepares her breakfast. The books and the key have made a transition and become pieces of their communal space. Is this trust? If not for him screwing with her vis-à-vis the robe, Beth would soften at the gesture. Too late.

He leaves his jacket and hat in the living room. The next morning, early, she slips the jacket on over her pink pajamas and slaps the hat onto her head. Clothes are identity—hers are, and so are his. Her mother embroidered a dress with her name and though she saw Mrs. Deardorff take it away to be burned, Beth never saw the fire. It might’ve been beautiful. For years, she wore lusterless browns and bruised blues, nothing ever new, everything the former garment of another orphan. Those were the colours and fabrics of loneliness. Since then, Beth’s only worn another person’s clothes for a particular reason: to feel close to Alma after her death. She dons Benny’s apparel with an eerie mix of that same solemnity and the helium-high humour of a clown. What can she say? The sexual tension’s got her slightly unhinged.

She remembers the interview. The implication of madness. She sits in Benny’s seat, facing his bedroom and wearing his clothes, and props her face delicately against the back of the fingers of both hands, like she does during some matches. Her fingernails touch, making a V below her chin. Unfortunately, her head’s drooping with sleepiness when Benny emerges, but she thinks he still gets the effect.

Halting the morning momentum that always propels him straight across the room to begin making coffee, he stares. He’s still doing it when Beth ceases yawning and blinking. Shirtless. Asshole.

“You want to explain what you’re doing?” he asks.

She glances down at herself. It’s really uncomfortable, sitting with so much jacket bunched up against her lower back. Why would he do this?

“Besides the obvious?” she checks. Benny’s expression says he’s ready to be amused, but he’s not there yet. She’ll need to lead him. “I’m trying a new strategy.”

“Osmosis?”

“Please don’t. I hope I’m not absorbing anything through this jacket. I’m just taking things a step further than reading your book.”

“The fact that you say that like it’s a logical progression worries me.”

Beth laughs, then remembers something.

“Oh!” she says, and holds up a finger before ducking her head and affixing the fake mustache. She raises her head. “Can’t believe I almost forgot.”

Now, Benny laughs.

“What… what is…?” he wheezes.

“I cut a couple strands off your broom. I’ll buy you a new one.”

She adjusts her straw mustache immediately because uttering the promise tilts it. The only glue she could find is very weak, still slick on her upper lip as she presses the straw against her skin.

“Don’t bother. I barely use it.”

Beth sneezes massively; her mustache is dusty.

“I can tell,” she says.

“Take that off,” he instructs, smiling and shaking his head fondly.

She peels the mustache away with a diluted sense of defeat and wipes the dab of glue off with a used napkin as Benny walks over to her. It’s the closest they’ve been—him standing next to the chair as she twists to look up at him. What she anticipates, when his arm twitches forward, is the eternal, fraternal shoulder squeeze. No. He cups her chin.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” she counters.

Gripping the chairback, he bends and kisses her. When he doesn’t hurry to withdraw, Beth slides her hands around his ribs, pressing her fingers to his back. He plucks the hat from her head while their eyes are closed.

“Take that off,” he mumbles against her mouth, then sneaks his tongue inside. The kissing grows heated and she stands, body curving readily with his, hands grasping the back of his neck.

“Is it because I’m dressed like you?” she asks the second his lips break away from hers. She opens her eyes to scrutinize his. “You are pretty obsessed with yourself.”

Benny smiles and watches her. He smooths her hair, then drops his hand to her shoulder. Pointedly, he looks down.

“Take that off.”

Beth huffs and lets go of his neck, pushing at the lapels of his leather jacket to slip back out of it, but Benny reaches for her hand. More than that; stills it, covers it, captures it.

“Ah,” he says, a guttural noise of correction. She hates that noise. He makes it when she gets sick of re-enacting historic matches and plays an original move instead. The sound is both stubborn and apologetic—Benny knows when he’s holding her back.

He lowers Beth’s hand to her side and leaves it hanging there. His come up to her chest, not to remove the jacket, but to undo the top button on her pajamas.

“The jacket—” she starts.

“—can wait,” he finishes.

[magicmanias]

Greyhound Station [Prologue]

Chapter: Prologue

Pairing: Firefighter!Bucky Barnes x Ballerina!Reader

Summary: Since she was eight years old, Y/N Parker knew only one thing for certain: that she would always love James Buchanan Barnes. By fourteen, she was positive she knew everything—including that Bucky would be hers forever. When she was eighteen, she realized she really only knew three things: one, that New York was rotten, two, that she would be a dancer no matter what her parents said, and three, that she would do everything in her power to never see James Buchanan Barnes again. But now, Y/N is twenty-four and somehow, she’s back at where she started all those years ago, at a Greyhound station on 206 Livingston Street.

Warnings:  Fluff, (Loveable) Asshole Clint Barton, Swearing

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I’m rewriting this series with my good friend, Angelina! Please go check out her account and follow her. She’s an amazing human being and she’s so amazing for helping me write this god forsaken story. I hope you all enjoy what’s coming soon!

Co-written by @dearspacepirates ​​ and @angelinathebook​.

GHS Masterlist // Next >>

[Summer of 2011, Freshman Year, 15 y/o.]

July 12 was going to go down in history as the day that Y/N Julianne Parker conquered her fear of heights. 

For the past seven years you've lived in Brooklyn, you and the gang went to Coney Island every day that you possibly could in the seventy-seven days of summer that school offered you. And every year, everyone would buy a ticket for the Wonder Wheel… except you. So for an hour of waiting time and ten minutes while your friends could be heard from the top screaming and laughing, you sat at the bottom waiting. But it wasn’t so bad. Someone always sat out with you to keep you company while the rest rode the wheel. Of course, you always felt a little guilty about it; like the little sister that no one wanted to deal with. They drew straws and the unlucky member that was picked didn't get to partake in, apparently, the “best ride ever” that year. 

[Summer of 2004, Third Grade, 8 y/o.]

The first time the gang went to Coney Island, well, the gang was much smaller. Just you, Steve, and Bucky. Sarah was the one to suggest that the boys draw straws.

“We don't leave each other behind,” she'd said, taking out the straw of her coke and cutting it into different sized pieces with the pocket knife from her ex-husband. “Now, that also applies to me. Three straws. Steve, Bucky, and me. Whoever picks the shortest straw stays with Y/N.”

You stared at your feet and shuffled your feet. “I-I don't want to keep you guys from—”

A comforting hand landed on your shoulder and Sarah gave you a warm smile. “Hey, we're not abandoning you.” She ruffled Steve and Bucky’s hair with her spare hand. “These two little buggers and I? We're with you until the end of the line, baby.”

Steve had drawn the short straw that particular time, but he didn't really mind. He said heights triggered his allergies anyway.

[Summer of 2011, Freshman Year, 15 y/o.]

“You can do this. You can do this. Just brea—”

“Hey, relax, will you? You've been shaking since we picked you up. It's a ferris wheel.” Tony slung his arm around your shoulders, chewing on the stick of the lollipop he started on the walk there. He peaked at you imphisly from under his sunglasses.

“Lay off, Stark. Just be nice about it, ok? She's nervous,” Steve butted in. Always the hero, you thought. 

“Thanks, Stevie. But really, I am… ok. I can do this,” you insisted. You looked up at the giant wheel and your stomach floored. The line shifted forward and Bruce bumped into you.

Bruce adjusted his tilted glasses. “Oh sorry—”

“I can't do this!”

Half of the crew sighed and started digging through their pockets. Tony, Thor, and Natasha muttered small curses before handing fives to Clint, Loki, and Bucky. 

“I really thought you were going to this time around,” Natasha groaned, but she still smiled at you before glaring at a very satisfied Clint.

You huffed in annoyance. “Even you, Bucky?”

“Don't hate the player. Hate the game, killer,” he smirked, shoving Thor's five into his pocket. You continued to frown.

“Aw, come on, doll. Don't be that way.” Bucky came over to you, placed his hands in his jacket, and shot an innocent pout at you. “You know I love you. You're my dream girl.”

You punched him in the arm. “Fuck off, James.”

He backed up like a wounded dog, holding his arm. “Hey, I'm just trying to make us some money. So we can start a life together, baby. You and me.” 

Flirt. You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever,” Tony muttered, putting his wallet back in his pocket. “Who's got the straws?”

Steve bashfully pulled out multiple straws of different lengths and began to shuffle them in his palms. The routine started again. Everyone pulled a straw: Tony, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Nat, then Bucky. 

Bucky drew the short stick. 

The gang patted his shoulder—their clandestine form of sympathy, just as the routine went. The gang entered the line and you and your unlucky companion for the next hour and ten minutes sat on the bench near the vintage ice cream parlor that sold flavors all the way back to the 1930s. And then, you'd thank whoever sat with you. Sometimes, they bought you a cone or if they had historically Irish luck, then you'd buy them a sundae because it was the second time they had to sit with you. (A rightfully bitter Clint once asked for the most expensive item on the menu and Coney Island prices weren't cheap.)

Something about this time was different though. It was funny. In all the seven years you'd known Bucky, he never once drew the short straw. Never. Long had he been accused of cheating, but your peers could never prove it. Until now.

Apparently, he wasn't cheating.

You decided to stick to the routine anyway, despite the sour frown on Bucky's face. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled. You tried to shoot him a small smile, but his pout persisted and he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. 

You sat there for a good ten minutes until you started to get sick of Bucky’s frown. Bucky was always difficult when he was in a bad mood, but after years of trial and error, you knew how to deal with his moodiness. “I’ll be right back,” you said.

You got up and waded into the crowd of people before disappearing altogether from Bucky’s view. He slumped further into the bench. “Why am I even here if you're just gonna split?” he muttered.

After several minutes, Bucky’s cheeks began to hurt and he sat up. Where were you? He stood and scanned the surrounding area for his annoyingly evasive friend. 

“Hey!” A finger poked him in the shoulder and when he turned, he was met with a large ice cream cone shoved in front of him. Behind it, stood Y/N with an innocent grin lining her face.

Bucky took the cone and smirked, “You remembered.”

“Burgundy cherry on a sugar cone. Two scoops,” you recited, rocking back and forth on your heels.

He chuckled. She always knew how to cheer him up. He stared at the scoop of pink ice cream. “I’m sorry for being… dumb about the ferris wheel. I know you don't like it,” he mumbled. 

“It’s okay.” You blushed behind your cone, hoping Bucky wouldn't see. “You’re lucky you've got those baby blues, Barnes. It's what's kept me around all these years,” you joked, shoving him playfully in the arm. 

Bucky pulled away in pretend pain. “Careful killer, you just might make me fall in love with you.”

“Save it, Barnes.” 

Bucky watched you while you returned to licking your ice cream. As much as he loved you, Bucky was going on that ride.

He stood up and reached out for your hand, smiling warmly. “Come on, Killer. I've got a surprise for you.”

You looked up with excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah, but you gotta close your eyes.” Bucky walked behind you and covered your eyes with his free hand. “Trust me. You'll like this.”

“Holy fuck, Bucky!” you screeched, pushing into Bucky’s side, trying to get away from the edge of the seat. Your heart pounded out of your chest as you rose higher and higher. You screwed your eyes shut, but it only accelerated the tears that poked at the corners and threatened to spill down your cheeks. 

“Bucky, I want off…” you whimpered. “I want to get off.” 

“Hey, just don’t look down. You’re safe with me,” he assured you, taking your hand in his. You squeezed it, hard. He pulled his other arm away from where you pressed against it and wrapped it around your shoulders, beckoning you into his embrace. 

“Please Bucky, I want to get down,” you whispered, one single tear rolling down your cheek as you spoke. You knew what you were asking wasn’t rational, but logic and reason were left on the ground below, along with your confidence. 

“Just focus on your breathing and focus on me,” He coached, making stupid deep-breathing gestures with his arms. 

“What about you? Focus on how much I hate you or the strong urge I have to punch you?” You fire back, not feeling at all comforted. If anything, that made it worse. You were slowly rising higher and higher and the pit in your stomach grew deeper and deeper. 

“Well I… was thinking more like something along the lines of this,” he murmured, taking your hands. He started to rub small circles into the skin of your hand with his thumb, “And this,” he said with the same soft intensity, the arm that was wrapped tightly around your shoulders, snaking itself around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, warming you from the breeze of being so high. And then Bucky made that stupid face that made you feel all warm and fluttery inside. So stupid…

Bucky watched as you calmed your breathing. He knew you’d probably uphold your promise to punch him when you got off, but it was worth it. You shivered at the cool temperature from being at the top of the ferris wheel. Bucky’s instincts pulled your closer to him; he was always warm, so you would always cuddle up to him. It was then that Bucky realized that he was still holding your hand and you were still staring at him with your stupid, doe eyes. 

And that’s when Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. 

All of freshman year, you and he had been dancing around each other, daring the other to just say something, but the two of you were probably the most stubborn people on the planet. He wasted all of freshman year flirting with other girls because he had too much pride to just admit that you were the only one for him. Fuck friendship, Bucky Barnes fell hard for you and he didn’t want to come up for air any time soon. 

“What’re you starin’ at, pretty boy?” you mumbled. 

“Killer, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Oh, just wait until we get off this damn—mphf!”

Lips connected to yours. The butterflies in your stomach that started flapping because of your sheer terror, began to fly for entirely different reasons. His lips were soft and gentle. You gripped his hand a little tighter and lifted your free one to drag it through his hair.

“Oh shit! Are you guys fucking making out!?” You could hear Clint’s voice two cars down. 

“Holy shit!” Tony. “Someone get a picture! Also, Thor owes me 20 bucks!”

“What!? You couldn’t have waited like another week, Barnes!?” Thor’s voice boomed. 

Bucky placed his hand on the side of his mouth and yelled down, “Stop betting on everything!” He sucked in his lip in annoyance and huffed at his friends’ commentary and his ruined moment with you. But you just chuckled.

“I think this is my new favorite ride,” you said and Bucky’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He placed his hands on the sides of your head and kissed your forehead.

“So does this mean you’re my girl, killer?” he mumbled against your head.

“I don’t know, James. I’m still pretty mad that you tricked me.”

“Didn’t you say you liked this ride now. I remember you calling it ‘your favorite ride,’” he said, bending his fingers in air quotes.

“I’m punching you when we get off this stupid machine, jerk.”

“If it means I get to kiss those pretty lips again, then hit me with your best shot.”

[Summer of 2020, 24 y/o.]

“We are now in New York City. This is 206 Livingston Street. Thank you for riding with Greyhound and we hope you have a good day.” 

The double-doors of the bus opened with a hiss and you gathered your bags after saying goodbye to the nice father who was taking his boys on a trip to the Big Apple for their summer vacation.

Your phone buzzed.

Today | 10:00 am

Wanda: Hey, just wanted to make sure you got here ok :) Y/N: I just got off. I’m headed to your apartment right now. Wanda: Are you sure you don’t want me to help you with your bags? Y/N: I’m ok. Just waiting for a cab.  Wanda: Ok, stay safe <3.  Wanda: And remember! Drinks at the Odinsons’ at 8, ok?  Y/N: Ok, I'll think about it… Are you sure he won't be there? Wanda: No, drama queen. He took an extra shift at the station anyway. Wanda: Be there! x

You stared at the apartment in front of you and thought about Wanda's last text. You were hesitant to go anyway. Seeing everyone again… It'd bring back too many memories that all involved him. Maybe Wanda was right. You were a drama queen. You couldn't even think his name without being upset. And even though you were in the largest city in America, you had a feeling it would be hard to avoid him. 

God, you couldn't believe you were back here. Six years ago, you swore you'd never come back to New York and here you were in the same place you started. 

Hopefully, Thor still made good drinks.

[d-xs]

PROMPT:

Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Catherine Todd

Warning: implied/referenced child abuse.

Jason Todd makes no attempt to eat his burger or even take a sip from his soda, despite the loud rumbling of his stomach. He clutches the bag tightly, bringing it closer to his chest when he sees Bruce staring, like he's afraid Bruce would take offense and demand his food back.

Bruce Wayne does not understand him. His threadbare clothes do nothing to hide the skin stretched over bones. He can see the outline of the boy's ribs through his red hoodie. He is clearly very hungry and going by the way he can't seem to take his eyes off the bag of fast food or even how he keeps taking lungs full of the aroma wafting from it, like if he breathes deep enough, he will be filled. He would bet his entire fortune that this kid has not had a good meal in weeks, or even months. Even one as unhealthy as greasy fast food.

The child is clearly starving. Yet, he has not made any attempt to help himself.

Bruce does not have any experience with poverty or homelessness. Even at the lowest point of his life, he had access to basic human needs. Still, he knows enough about human behavior to know that Jason's behavior right now is not the norm. When he gives a clearly starving person food, they usually devour it immediately.

There are only a few reasons why he would not want to eat the food he had enthusiastically accepted from Bruce. Either he plans to use the food as payment for his safety, in which case, Bruce needs to start looking into gangs exploiting kids, or he has someone, most likely a younger sibling in his care. Considering the fact that Bruce had caught him trying to jack off the fourth tire of the batmobile, after successfully getting away with the other three, Bruce is not sure what is most likely to be the case.

"You going to turn me in now?" Jason asks him, once Bruce's burger is out of sight.

"I promised you I wouldn't," Bruce tells him as earnestly as he can manage.

It doesn't convince the child at all.

"Yeah, right," he scoffs. "That's what you all say."

"Don't you think it would be counter-productive to have you arrested for trying to survive? I'm trying to make Gotham safe for kids like you, Jason. Not put you in jail. I might take you somewhere safe, so you don't have to keep living on the streets, but--"

"I'm not on the streets," Jason cuts in defensively. The fear and worry in his expression is clear now. "I live with my mom and we're fine. If you're not going to arrest me, then I'll be on my way."

A mom. Bruce can't decide if it's a euphemism for Boss. He has seen some awful things since becoming Batman. He also knows some parents take advantage of their kids and force them into crimes as a way to 'earn their keep'.

Jason is most likely taking the food to this person, if he's not eating it, and Batman needs to separate them if the child is being exploited.

The child doesn't wait for Bruce's response before he starts his trek back to the Narrows.

Making a snap decision, Bruce calls out to him.

"Common, I'll drop you off wherever you want," he says, knowing Jason would never let Batman drop him off at home. The child is too suspicious, and rightfully so.

Jason stops in his tracks, but he makes no attempt to accept Bruce's offer.

"It will be morning before you make it all the way across town," Bruce points out. "That's <i>if</i> you don't get attacked for the food."

With that, Jason agrees to let Bruce give him a ride.

Even though he was quiet for the first couple of minutes, Bruce could see the wheels turning in the boy's head. Jason has a very expressive face that tells Bruce he is gearing up to say something, as he takes in the interior of the batmobile.

Jason doesn't take as long as Bruce thought he would.

"You're probably rich, huh?" Jason observes.

Oh God, Bruce hopes this kid is not about to proposition him.

"Not really." Bruce's answer is terse to discourage further probing.

"So it's true what they say?" Jason continues, either missing Bruce's reluctance to continue with this conversation or ignoring it. "That you're fucking Bruce Wayne for money?"

If Batman didn't have such a tight rein on his microexpressions, he would have choked. "That's not language suitable for a child."

Jason turns in his seat so that Bruce doesn't miss the elaborate eye-roll.

"I guess you've had to pay informants, huh?" Jason asks. "You know, like in the stories, where a dude is rewarded for giving the cops valuable information for solving a crime. You do that?"

"Sometimes." Bruce is invested in where Jason is going with his questioning. "Why? Do you have information to sell?"

"Depends on your going rate," the boy sasses.

"And how much do you want?" Bruce asks.

"I read in the papers that the FBI pay up to a hundred grand," Jason shrugs. "Shouldn't be too much for you to match, seeing as you have a rich boyfriend."

"One hundred thousand dollars?" The only reason Bruce doesn't laugh is because he doesn't want Jason to think he's being made fun of.

That, and the possibility that Jason may be trying to get free from his abuser, by having Batman go after them.

"You really think your information is worth that much?" Bruce asks.

"You tell me, Batman." Jason shrugs again. "It was worth enough to cause a war between Penguin and Scarecrow. Enough to make my dad disappear, not that that's a bad thing."

Bruce doesn't think he's supposed to hear the last part, as Jason mutters it under his breath. But the cowl picks up the words clearly.

A criminal and/or abusive mother and mob affiliated but now absentee father. Bruce is debating calling Social Services.

He's also aware of the war between Penguin and Scarecrow. A few months ago, there were rumors of a collaboration between the two factions to take over Gotham, before accusations of betrayal.

If it wasn't for the lives being lost, Bruce would be grateful for their misunderstanding.

Still, a hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money for someone like Jason, and is most likely to draw the wrong attention.

"I'll give you five thousand," Bruce tells him.

"Out of a hundred? Are you really that cheap?" Jason snorts. "You roll around in a ride like this and can't even pay for information? Okay, I'll do you a favor and take seventy."

"Ten," Bruce counters.

"All you rich assholes like taking advantage of poor people," Jason grumbles angrily. When Bruce doesn't budge, he relents. "Fifty."

"Fifteen."

"Fifty," Jason repeats firmly.

"Alright, twenty five thousand dollars and that's my final offer."

"Deal!" Jason agrees immediately.

Bruce watches him spit on his palm before extending it to Bruce for a handshake.

"Come on," he urges when Bruce makes no attempt to shake his hand. "We gotta shake on it to seal the deal."

In the face of that logical argument, Bruce spits in his own hand before clasping it to Jason's in a handshake.

If Jason believes he has information that can help, then twenty five thousand dollars is not too much to pay someone who clearly needs it. The cash in the batmobile isn't up to the amount, but it should be enough to buy the time he would need to get the rest from the manor.

"Alright." He follows Jason's directions on where to park. "What's this information?"

"Wait here," Jason instructs him, undoing the seat belt. "I'll bring it to you."

Bruce gives Jason a minute head-start before he takes to the rooftops, to trail the young boy.

After a few twists and turns, he comes to a stop in front of a dilapidated building. A woman rushes out and pulls Jason into a hug.

"I've been looking all over for you!" she scolds. "Where were you? Chris said some man took you. Is that true?"

She is rail thin, her threadbare clothes hanging off her body, but she sounds genuinely distressed as she checks him for injuries.

"I'm fine, Mom," Jason says in comfort before shoving the food at her. "Look, I got us food and I found a way to get away from the men looking for dad."

The woman -- Jason's mom -- shoves the food back at him, before pulling him into an apartment with the door barely hanging on a hinge.

It's hard not to notice the woman's limp, or the way Jason supports some of her weight as they go.

Bruce takes a second to process everything.

Judging by the environment and what he's seen and heard, Jason isn't being abused, but he's in even more danger.

Whether he plans to pay off his father's debt with the money or not, Bruce knows he has to get mother and son away from this place before they end up as victims of mob violence. Whether Jason really does have information to sell or not.

With that, Bruce hops down to the street from his perch on the roof.

Despite how mindful he is of the door, the moment his fist to connects with the door, it falls off the hinge holding it in place, exposing Jason and his mother having either a very late dinner or a very early breakfast in their one bedroom apartment.

They both jump at the sight of him, and once realization dawns on them, their reactions are wildly different.

Jason's mom cowers with fear, shrinking into herself while attempting to wrap herself around her son, but Jason won't have it. He is livid.

"What the fuck, Batman!" the child hisses angrily. "I told you to wait for me."

"Jason, stop," his mother pleads, pulling Jason behind her.

The boy is unmoved. His mother's frailness is no match for his strength.

"You broke our door! Why the fuck would you do that?"

Despite his obvious anger, they're both careful not to raise their voices. Bruce imagines that getting a visit from Batman isn't a good thing in this neighborhood.

"Calm down," Bruce growls.

Both mother and son freeze where they stand.

"We didn't do nothing wrong, Batman," the lady tells him in a trembling voice. "If you're looking for my husband, we don't know where he is."

"I'm here for Jason," Bruce tells her, registering her distress just before he turns to Jason. "You were taking too long," he lies. "I wanted to make sure you were fine."

This seems to placate the boy a bit, but not his mother, who demands to know what the hell is going on.

Bruce watches silently as Jason explains his plans to his mother.

Apparently, his plan is to sell the information his father stole from Scarecrow to Batman, in exchange for money that will get them out of Crime Alley.

His mom doesn't look thrilled, but she lets Jason climb into the ceiling to retrieve what her husband had hidden there.

"You won't arrest him when you have what you want, will you?" she asks with a fierce look.

Bruce can't help but admire that about her. Not a lot of people have that look about them when Batman is staring them down.

Must be where Jason gets his spunk.

"Jason is a good boy," she continues. "He did a bad thing, but it was for a good reason. His heart is in the right place, I swear."

"Mrs Todd--" Bruce starts, but she interrupts him.

"Catherine."

"Catherine," he repeats. "I don't plan to arrest your son," he continues as calmly as Batman's voice will let him. "We made a deal and I intend to uphold my end."

"So you're just going to hand Jason twenty-five grand?" Catherine asks suspiciously. "Just like that?"

"Yes," he tells her simply. "But I don't have twenty-five thousand dollars in cash right now. I can give you a thousand tonight, and a safe place for the night. Seeing as I broke your door. Tomorrow, you will get the rest of the money and I will call someone to fix your door."

As he talks, he pulls out the bills from his utility belt and hands it to her.

Of course, he has no plans of letting them return here. But if he has learned anything from being Batman, it's that, sometimes, all some people have left is their pride.

Poor people hate being treated as charity.

Siccing Alfred on her would be more productive. All he has to do is make sure they meet. Dick would probably appreciate having someone young in the manor, too.

"And you swear Jason will be safe?" Catherine stresses, eyes flickering between the money and Bruce's face.

"I swear," he vows solemnly. That much, he can promise.

A few minutes later, Jason returns from the ceiling, an envelope clutched in his hand.

"Jason," Catherine calls softly, pulling him into her arms before he can give Bruce the envelope. "Baby, there's something I have to tell you about…"

[highkey-lowkey-as-hell]

if you want to write it, a meet the parents fic but it’s kateva and angst to hurt comfort because i like my heart broken -cotmlc

THANK YOU, CO-PRESIDENT, FOR RELIEVING MY HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE, SOUL-CRUSHING BOREDOM

Also, seeing as this is angst, I’m switching the prompt up just a little. My headcanon is that Eva’s mom is the Best Mom and Kate’s parents are Trying (And Failing A Little But Overall Doing Their Best), so we’re getting Kate’s more-homophobic-grandparents instead for the Angst Factor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, yes, Kate was nervous.

Like, super nervous.

Eva had sworn up and down that she loved Kate no matter what, and while that did help her fear of losing her, she was still scared this afternoon was going to make Eva run away. Even if she didn’t, though, Kate was still expecting hell.

Her maternal grandparents were thoroughly convinced that Kate’s sarcastic, cynical, girls-and-flannel-loving personality was Just A Phase and she’d grow out of it and start wearing pink and giggling and liking guys any moment now. Obviously, that wasn’t happening. When she’d joined the cheer squad, they’d been so excited, Kate almost felt bad about disappointing them.

Almost. She didn’t actually feel bad about it.

Actually, her grandparents were one of the only things that told Kate her mom really and truly supported her sexuality. Sure, she was insecure about it, and had once asked her if she thought it was “just a phase,” but she always defended Kate whenever her grandparents asked if she was interested in anyone and she answered with “Bridget” or “Emily” or “Jennifer.”

Her mom’s mediocre support aside, Kate had been postponing this meeting for as long as she could. She and Eva had officially been together since February, and now it was July. She’d met Eva’s mother, uncle, and siblings, and Eva had met her parents and brothers. She knew for a fact that Eva had Chess’s letter tucked safely in a dresser drawer and that she reread it often. They even regularly said “I love you” now. And yet, her grandparents had only recently even learned Eva existed.

Just like always, Kate and her parents were hosting the Dalton family’s annual 4th of July party. Typically, Kate would be forced to greet everyone and then would run up to her room to read or play on her phone, or - before Derrick and Jack had left for college and gotten so distant - she and her brothers would be in the basement, playing video games Kate probably shouldn’t have been playing when she was ten. Today, though, was going to be a bit different.

Kate’s grandmother had recently joined Facebook without her knowledge, which proved to be problematic at the end of the year. Kate’s mom had made her usual post, congratulating Derrick on finishing his first year of grad school, Jack on his sophomore year of college, and Kate on her junior year of high school. The picture of Kate she had chosen to post was one Eva had posted to Instagram (and one she’d asked permission to use, which Kate and Eva both appreciated) (the caption was very sweet, irrelevant to this story, and was “GCHS cheer fucking sucks but at least I’ve got you, I love you so much”), which was a photo of the two of them after their last cheer competition. In the photo, Eva had her arm around Kate and was kissing her cheek, and it was very obvious that they were a couple.

Kate’s grandmother saw the photo.

Kate’s first reaction when her mom told her was to freeze and think fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck SHIT fuck fuck fuck - which she thought was a very logical first reaction. Her second reaction was freak the fuck out.

One thing had led to another, and now Eva had been invited to join the Dalton family Independence Day celebrations.

She showed up a little bit before everyone else, just because that’s how Eva was, and Kate dragged her down into the basement so she could rant about how scared she was.

“My cousins are just like Lily and they’ll love you and my aunts and uncles are great and Dad’s parents are pretty cool but Mom’s parents are going to hate you,” she ranted, pacing back and forth while Eva watched from the couch. “This might have been a really bad idea.”

“It’ll be fine, Katie,” Eva tried to sooth. “You’ve literally survived a stab wound, they can’t be much worse.”

“My grandparents meeting my girlfriend? Yeah, I think I’d rather get stabbed again.”

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“You won’t think that when they show up.” Kate stopped pacing and hugged herself, trying to calm her anxiety. “Promise you’ll stay?”

“I promise.” Eva stood up and hugged her, and Kate finally managed to breathe. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Kate wanted Eva to hold her like that for the rest of the day, but the doorbell rang and Jack shouted for them to come upstairs and it was time to face the music.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her paternal grandparents showed up first and, like Kate predicted, immediately adored Eva. They’d asked her at least four dozen questions before Kate’s aunt showed up a few minutes later, and as her relatives trickled in, Kate began to suspect that this was turning into less of a “family Independence Day!” party and more of a “Kate’s actually gay and has a girlfriend now, wow, time to overwhelm her” party. She’d made a deal with Jack and Derrick beforehand, having predicted what would happen, and invoked it now, leaving them to entertain their relatives while Kate pulled Eva into the backyard and onto the porch swing, where it would take several minutes for questions to reach them and they had an excuse to be as close as possible.

Kate was hoping her mom’s parents might not show up when her grandfather appeared in the doorway and her stomach sank into her beat-up shoes. He zeroed in on Kate and Eva right away and walked toward them, taking up way more space than he needed to like always.

“Kate, it’s been a while,” he boomed, and Kate winced.

“Hey, Grandpa,” she said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. “This is Eva.” Eva awkwardly waved, then put her hand down.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, and Kate felt really bad about dragging her into this.

“You must be Kate’s friend,” he nearly yelled (why the fuck did he have to be so loud?) and Kate nearly straight-up attacked him.

I’m basically in her lap right now! What the fuck do you mean, my “friend”?

Jack caught her eye from across the porch and gave her a sympathetic look before looking back at their elderly great-grandmother.

“Girlfriend, actually,” Kate corrected. “We’re dating. We’re a couple. Definitely not friends.”

“Right, of course.” Her grandfather winked at her, and she nearly screamed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day did not get much better.

When her grandmother came out, she was about as subtle as her husband had been about how she didn’t actually believe Kate and Eva were in love (maybe? In love felt a little bit strong, but it also seemed to be the best term for it and Kate didn’t have time to think of a better way to put it) and thought they were just good friends. Then, when she stood up to go and get her phone so she could show her aunt a picture of their cheer squad and Eva’s hand wasn’t covering her scar anymore, her aunt screamed and brought three people running, pinning all the attention on Kate in a really bad way.

After a few hours, Kate whispered something in Eva’s ear and stepped away, into the garage, trying to catch her breath and calm down. The door opened, and rather than being Eva or one of her brothers like she’d hoped, she opened her eyes to see her grandmother.

“I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you were okay, honey.”

“I’m fine, Grandma. Just needed a moment.” She clenched her teeth and prayed her grandmother would leave. She didn’t.

“Eva seems nice,” she continued.

“She is.” Kate almost started to hope that maybe, maybe, her grandmother would start to take her relationship seriously. “I’m lucky to have her.”

“You seem like really good friends.” Fuck, there it was.

“Okay, you know what? Knock it off!” Kate didn’t mean to blow up, but she couldn’t help it now. “It doesn’t matter how much you deny it, it’s not going to change the fact that I’m not the granddaughter you have in your head! I love Eva, okay? I love someone who’s name is Eva and not Evan. I love her and I’m a lesbian and I’m so tired of you not taking me and my relationships seriously like you do Jack and Derrick!” Then she stormed past her and up to her room, her eyes stinging with tears.

After about twenty minutes, there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Go away,” she mumbled.

“Katie?”

“Oh. You can come in.”

Eva opened the door and then closed it behind herself. “Are you okay? Your grandmother says you totally lost your shit at her.”

“I kinda did.”

“I’m not surprised.” Eva sat next to her, and Kate sat up and crawled into her arms. “They’ve been assholes to us all day.”

“I just really love you, Eva, and I want them to understand that.” Kate’s voice was muffled by Eva’s shirt. “I want them to take you seriously as my girlfriend and stop trying to deny it. I-I want them to accept that I’m not the perfect granddaughter they wanted. I’m not perfect.”

“And thank God. If you were perfect, how would I make fun of you for how atrocious you are at skateboarding? How would I keep you from fighting some people and watch you fight others?” Eva pulled her a little bit tighter and laid down, Kate still curled up in her arms. “I hate your grandparents, but I love you more.”

“Promise you’ll stay?”

“Promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone has that one relative who denies your sexuality, right? I’m not out to my family as lesbian, just as ace, and I still think they don’t quite get it. But hey, everyone’s got someone who has their back, right? I hope this was angsty enough!!!!!!

[hollenka99]

The Vlogger

Summary: With no choice but to keep going, Chase meets others like him and starts his second chance at life with them. 

Warnings: Suicide, alcoholism, self deprecation, depression

@egopocalypse

As soon as Chase Brody pulls the trigger, he regrets it. Not because the rapid loss of blood is dizzying or he knows he may have something to live for. Instead, he rethinks things due to the pain. There's a hole in his skull, a hole he put there himself. If he knew he'd remain conscious, he wouldn't have bothered with the gun. So he's stuck there on the ground, the camera crew hovering uncertainly as an ambulance is called. The thing is, he doesn't want to actually die, doesn't want his children to grow up without their dad. He just wants a way out. No matter what he does, he can never fix the situation at home. Now Stacy was taking them from him. If he won't get to watch them grow up then it should be because he made it impossible, not Stacy. He believes that was the logic that got him in this situation. It was a stupid piece of logic. If the ambulance doesn't hurry up, he won't have much longer to dwell on it. For fuck's sake, why couldn't it have been instant? He can't even shoot himself properly. Now is not the moment to admit that may actually be a good thing. He finds himself waking in a hospital bed. As sure of his abilities as he is stern, Chase doesn't know what to make of the German doctor attending to him. The guy's bedside manner could do with slight improvement at times. However, Chase can't deny he's helpful when he needs to be. Chase find his left arm doesn't work as it used to. Apparently, he suffered damage to his premotor cortex. He won't be able to perform complex actions with that arm, whatever the hell 'complex actions' meant. Physical therapy is advised. He's too preoccupied by the fact he wrecked part of his brain to listen too intensely. That hadn't been in his list of things he'd hoped to achieve. Well, he supposes he had wanted to mess things up in that area of his body. But... the fatal kind. Not that he really knows what he wants in general. Except probably stopping the shitshow that was commonly referred to as his life from plaguing him further. He wants Stacy. And the kids. He wants to be the father and husband of a happy family. He wants to be happy himself. Dr Schneeplestein provides him with an address after he lets it slip he has nowhere to go after being released. It's where the doctor's friends live. They are always open to welcoming a new inhabitant. Chase's isn't convinced he should bother. Schneeplestein suggests he should at least think about it. Well, it's not like he has anywhere else to go. He might as well give these people a chance. Jack is really friendly once he arrives at the house. After checking Chase was aware of Sean, he calls someone named Marvin to the living room. Marvin is clearly a very cold person. The welcome he delivers is the opposite of Jack's. One had made him feel like he was welcome, the other seemed to want him gone immediately. Well fuck you too, Marvin. Despite being quiet and somewhat of a loner, at least Angus didn't seem too bad. Chase doesn't know how to react when Jack directs him to a private clinic within the building. He's even more at a loss for words when Dr Schneeplestein is there, greeting him. Okay, yeah, he gets it. While the doctor may not live in the building, he was an ego himself. Chase had noticed the similarity in appearance when it came to the guys here. Over the coming days, Schneeplestein checks up on him. He promises it is okay to call him Henrik if wants. Their discussions develop into a mix of formal medical stuff and informal getting to know each other better. Schneep reveals he is himself a father of three. He suggests Chase talk a little bit about himself. Okay. Well, his name was Chase Brody. He ran a YouTube channel called Bro Average where he performed trickshots. Occasionally well rehearsed stunts too. He had been married to a woman called Stacy. However, she had just announced she wanted a divorce. She was planning to take full custody of their two children. Their names are- they are... Wait, why couldn't he remember their names? Did the incident take some of his memories? Shit, don't tell him he's fucked up his memories as well as his arm. But he's been thinking about the situation since waking up, here and at the hospital. Wait, no, he was just thinking of them as 'the kids'. Why the hell hadn't he noticed before now? He was a bad father, just like Stacy had- "Chase?" "They're my children, how can I not remember their names?" "I did not either." The doctor reassures him. "Maybe talk to Jack, he is good with names. Helped me remember." He does indeed speak to Jack. They reach Noah without too much issue. It takes several names to get there, sure, but his son's name is fairly common. His daughter though... this was taking forever. Even Jack sounds like he's losing hope as the suggestion of Daisy is accompanied by a sigh. Chase is so thankful this is the one to stir something within him. Encouraging Jack to keep on the plant-based route hits his helper with a second wind. A handful of names later, they finally reach their destination of Willow. Willow and Noah. He remembers now. He can see a 4 year old girl with dark hair who loved mint choc chip ice cream. Then there was her 3 year old brother who loved to chat about anything and everything. They may not have been born at the right time in their parents' lives but he by no means loved them any less because of that. Not everyone has memories of rocking their daughter to sleep while studying. He'd love to hold those two again. As the days and weeks go by, Marvin remains distant. Chase approaches Jack, needing to know what the hell the magician's deal was. He learns there had been another ego, a 16 year old superhero who'd arrived in July. At the beginning of November, Jackie had slipped out to clear his head. Suffice to say, he was yet to return home. Marvin and Jackie had been becoming close friends at the time of his disappearance. He was simply grieving more noticeably than Jack. Jack also takes this opportunity to discuss a second mystery ego. Antisepticeye was very dangerous, not to mention unpredictable. Jack had caught glimpses of him prior to his official appearances on the channel in October. Anti was the one behind Jack's throat scar. Understandably, he'd rather not go into that day. What was important was that Chase did his best to stay safe from Anti, now that he was aware of him. Anti had attempted to kill Jack, abducted Jackie and recently, hijacked Sean's PAX panel entrance reel to threaten the audience. If Chase ever found himself in Anti's sights, run. Drop anything non-essential that may slow him down and get the hell out of there. Eventually the interactions that seem forced melt into something nicer. It's still clear the memory of Jackie will remain superior to him. However, it was good to be more than tolerated by Marvin. Things are easier like this. As it turns out, the magician is actually a pretty cool dude. He's really into plants and able to do a lot of cool stuff with his magic. Please keep everything made of iron away from him though. The first time he bought alcohol, he pretended the intention was innocuous. He'd had a shitty few months. It would just be to take the edge off a bit. Better to get a little tipsy than try to permanently escape again. 'A little tipsy' soon becomes stumbling to bed drunk. Which inevitably results in painfully frequent hangovers. It's a good thing he doesn't have to save money for rent or anything. He can keep this habit going for longer. Of course, this behavioural change doesn't go unnoticed. Jack encourages him to limit himself to a bottle a day, if he needs to drink at all. He understands and appreciates his concern. However, it wasn't exactly his place to dictate what Chase could and couldn't do. This talk still has an effect on his drinking habits. He gets better at hiding his stash. The best thing about the bedrooms in this house were that they changed to fit the needs of the ego whose bedroom it was. This in turn meant he had a mini fridge without asking for it aloud. Jack and Marvin grow more desperate with trying to get through with him. There are weeks were he does genuinely attempt to make an effort to improve. Those attempts don't usually go well. At least there are two people cheering him on. Stacy's even been more approachable about the split during the past month or so, which was pleasant. She still wants full custody though. Especially because she's aware of his issue with alcohol seemingly developing into something likely diagnosable as alcoholism. That would be motivation enough to get him to stop. It only makes him feel worse when he gives in to temptation. At the end of July, Jack invites him and Marvin to marathon the Harry Potter films. He's had an argument with Sean and needs the distraction. Following the end of the second film, Marvin leaves for a moment to take a bathroom break. He turns to his friend on the other end of the sofa. "I-" A pause to question whether he should even bother with this line of conversation. "Jack, I don't get you, dude." "Uh, okay. Where did this come from?" "I don't know. I just don't get why you bother with Sean. You always seem to be at each other's throats." "Why did you try to hang on to your relationship with Stacy for so long?" "Hey, don't bring her into this." "Well?" Chase gives the most exaggerated shrug he can muster before crossing his arms, curling into himself on the sofa as he does so. The best Jack is getting out of him is a mumble. "Dunno. Still love her. Kids." "Yeah, well, Sean and I have quite a history ourselves. What can I say? We can't really go our separate ways by this point. He's an asshole but I still love him despite it. It's... it's complicated. We've known each other since we were kids. We were there for each other back then and we are still down to hang out now. I mean, that's what happened today. He's a busy dude and I don't expect him to drop everything for me. Yet we still make time for each other." Jack pauses to pick up his glass. "Want me to top you up before we start Prisoner of Azkaban?" "Jack." "I was made to be his friend. I can't... not be. Like I said, it's complicated. So, top up?" Days later, he spots Jack stumbling towards where Henrik was privately working on something. When he asks if his friend is feeling well, Jack waves him off, excusing it as 'probably nothing serious'. The words sound strained, as if he's attempting to keep his lunch in. Chase would call him out on the blatant understatement, were it not obvious Jack didn't want the fuss. The first clue he gets is Marvin leaving his room to hover restlessly in the corridor. The magician murmurs about something in the air feeling off. Chase suggests opening a window to aid air circulation, only for Marvin to snap that it wasn't like that. Besides, it was August and fairly warm. Most windows were already open. The second is Henrik being heard loudly speaking his surname. It doesn't sound right, almost like he's not the one to have said it. Marvin freezes at this. This has clearly shaken him for some unknown reason. As rapidly as the noise had stopped Marvin in his tracks does it cause him to pivot and march in the direction of where Schneep is working. The final hint of what is unfolding is Marvin's desperation. He's at the door to the med bay, pounding it with any spell he can think of. Chase rams into it whenever he is sure he isn't at risk of being unintentionally hit. They cry out to Henrik and swear they're coming to help. The locked door receives a series of abuse in a matter of minutes. The door finally gives. Marvin blocks his view temporarily but he sees regardless. There are too many wires and machines for him to comprehend they're all attached to one person. If he'd known, he would have swapped places with Jack in a heartbeat. Henrik is nowhere to be found. Chase's first encounter with Anti has robbed him of two of his good friends. His and Marvin's lifestyles change immediately. Marvin rarely has time to practice magic. Chase, similarly, puts Bro Average to one side. They both focus on providing Jack with the best care their inexperience can form. They are way in over their heads with this. However, Jack remains alive. They must be doing something vaguely correct. The 17 year old in the stolen outfit appears at their door a month on. Chase originally assumes this is a new ego. Oh, Marvin is going to be livid. He already lost his cool when Robbie showed up. Let's not even mention when Sean attempts a visit. Either way, the kid looks completely shattered and like he could collapse in a heap any moment now. He struggles to focus on the sentence he's trying to finish. This ego really is out of it. What kind of video did Sean upload today that it produced someone so wrecked? The teenager sways a little. Chase moves to steady him while Marvin is spouting the same shit about how Sean better not have created another ego. Tired of Marvin's anger at this specific moment, he calls him over to help. The magician barely enters the hallway before the newbie crumples into Chase's hold. He glances back at Marvin, a second away from encouraging him to assist him already. The haunted expression on his friend's face prevents that. Oh. This was Jackie. Of course it was. The two of them place him in the medical bay. Marvin withdraws into himself. Especially in the following days. He spends all his time hanging around Jackie. All he talks about is Jackie and how he's doing. Jackie, Jackie, Jackie. Listen, Chase is glad Jackie has returned home. Ecstatic, even. It's just... things have drastically changed in the household in barely any time at all. First it was Jack slipping into a coma. Now it's Jackie showing up after months of no clues regarding his whereabouts. It doesn't help when the teenager sticks to Marvin's side wherever possible and acts wary of Chase. He supposes he gets it. Marvin is the only person, other than Angus, whom the young superhero recognises from his pre-Anti life. Meanwhile, Marvin, who has spent close to a year missing his friend, wishes to protect him as much as he can. Either way, Chase gently inserts himself into the friendship group. He's heard about this guy a fair bit and felt his absence in the grief of those who'd loved him. He wants to get to know him. It took a couple months for Marvin to be chill with him. Chase would rather not return to being rejected once more. That's why he continues to be Marvin's person to spill his woes to and the one to let Jackie know he's not judgmental of the potential symptoms of PTSD on display. October isn't a good month. An ego named Shawn Flynn is born on the 5th as a result of Sean's video involving his Bendy voice role. On Halloween, they find it very suspicious that an ego who got a personal video hasn't shown up at their home yet. Didn't this guy also have pictures on Instagram as of earlier this week? He really should be here. Especially seeing as he had his own room waiting for his arrival. Chase volunteers himself to speak to Sean. As it turns out, that was the right move. When Sean lets him in, he is introduced to Jameson Jackson. It goes down as well as expected. Chase brings Jameson home and give him the house tour. As they travel around the building, he ensures Jameson knows Sean is not to be trusted. When the new ego argues that their creator had accommodated him, Chase decides this moment was as good as any to visit the medical bay. "This is Jack. He's a prime example of what happens when keep trusting Sean and believing he actually cares. We're not shitting on Sean for the hell of it. We do it because he's a dick and we'd rather not force anyone else to lose their friend." Chase takes a stabilising breath. He shows Jameson to his new room and suggests he familiarise himself with it this afternoon. If he needs anything, feel free to give him a tap on the shoulder. He has to admit, Sean has balls. Not only did he trick Jameson into being his friend, he's trying to get Chase to sympathise with him too. Sean even has the nerve to give some sob story. Obviously, he'd twist the truth to get his way. Chase is smarter than that. It's not like he's to blame for Sean being overloaded by the need to keep up with the upload schedule. That was purely Sean's own doing. Then he has the audacity to pull the Jack card. Oh, fuck you. How dare he?! So what, Chase is just supposed to become Jack 2.0 until Sean bothers to wake him up? No thanks. Unlike Jack, he requires sleep so it's not like he can help without consequences. Besides, he's got his own shit going on. Maybe Sean recalls the whole 'depressed and suicidal guy who's going through a divorce' thing he'd centered his character on. "Chase, please, at least think about it. Jack is in that coma because I was stressed and resentful. I don't want to risk making things even worse. I know I'm just repeating myself now but less time focusing on videos means more time for me to work out how to fix everything." He does think about it. Okay, fine! If it's just to keep the channel going then whatever. The channel is necessary to keep all of them healthy. He'll do it for Jack's sake. Anything to increase the chance of waking him up is worth it, right? Even if it means going against his morals. He nearly throws Sean's offer back in his face a month later. It was simply a charity stream. All that was supposed to happen was a nightly break in the 2 day event. He will forever hate CCTV footage and security from this point onwards. What the fuck did Anti do to Jackie that Silent Night triggers him? The night is spent ensuring two things. One, that everyone, especially Jackie, felt as safe as they could be in a stressful situation like this. The second objective was to observe the feed for the whole night. They sleep in the living room and take an hour long shifts to monitor the glitches. A doctor moves in during January. As much as they need the medical help, Dr Jacksepticeye is hardly Henrik. Either way, an ego is an ego. Chase is glad he's not the only one who is uncomfortable watching the stranger overseeing Jack's care. They just need Henrik back. Things can be generally alright after that. After much negotiating from both parties, Stacy agrees to allow him some custody. She'll have the majority of it but she's fine with weekends being Chase's time with them. Yes, yes, god yes. He'd obviously prefer to have it more evenly split. Maybe alternate weeks or Monday-Thursday morning for one and Thursday afternoon-Sunday for the other. But weekends? He gets to see Willow and Noah for 2/7 of the week? He'd take an hour a year if that was the most Stacy was willing to compromise. The others surprise him with a small party, complete with cake, when the arrangement becomes official. That first weekend can't come soon enough. He has a talk with Jackie about mental health and coping mechanisms after he catches him binging on his secret whiskey stash. Trust him, hangovers are no fun. Stop trying to force your raised metabolism to submit and become intoxicated. Frequently battling with your head is exhausting. Drinking yourself silly is not the answer. No, don't ask why he resorts to alcohol. Do as he says, not as he does, you know? Please tell him you're aware he's down to confide in if you want. No, no, don't cry. It's all good. Marvin doesn't have to know a single thing. Anything else you wanted to say? Zero judging, he swears. Early May finally provides them with their favourite German doctor. Like Jackie, Henrik's wellbeing has certainly seen better days. To think, the three of them had been having some dumb debate about Spider-Man moments before the big reunion took place. This is the beginning of the 10 days where Chase believes things can be good for the egos. The only thing missing is Jack's consciousness. A week later, he provides Sean with a video he'd edited himself. The level of trust they have between each other now means Sean doesn't check the video's contents. It is for this reason that the comments come flooding in before his creator's wrath does. Sean deems the mistake irreversible and the video therefore eligible to stay up. Chase can only hope it doesn't lead to any more issues. The weekend passes without any problem. On Monday, he notices Willow forgot to bring her doll back to Stacy's. He might as well return the toy. It is with annoyance that he realises Stacy's probably experiencing a power cut. Albeit dangerous to have done so, Chase considers it lucky that he was carrying that lighter in his pocket. Come on, work already. Stupid thing. The flame is tiny but at least it's something. Better than exploring blind at any rate. As Chase wanders through dark hallways, he becomes increasingly aware he may be endangering himself. After all, this home was meant to be displaying signs of life. Where were- Faint laughter. Children's laughter, undoubtedly. Oh God, that sounded like Willow and Noah. A girl screams. He wants to run to her. Fuck it if it's clearly a trap. His daughter's in trouble and he'll expose himself to whatever's frightening her without a second thought. He wants to sprint and he knows he should. Yet something keeps him at a cautious pace. His frustration grows as whispers are cut off by what sounds like Noah crying. He's coming, he swears. Daddy's coming. Just hold on. The whispers intensify as he turns the corner. This new hallway is bathed in red. Chase has better visibility but it wasn't necessarily a good thing. The room at the end of the corridor is completely soaking in the colour. It leaks onto the surrounding walls. The only object blocking the light is the silhouette. "Who's there?" The silhouette's head steadily twists over its shoulder. A second passes. An eye illuminates green with an unnerving crackle. It does nothing to acknowledge the questions its current prey begs to have answered. "Where are they?" Chase cries. "What do you want from me?!" There is no time to scream or escape. There is only the erratic approach. And as quickly as a video can cut to darkness, they are both gone.

[thestorytellerofkpop]

The Steps in Finding Love; Patience

Title: The Steps in Finding Love; Patience 

Word Count: 7.2k+

Rating: T with eventual M

Genre: Realistic fiction, slice of life, drama, fluff with eventual smut

Warnings: Smoking, Established member x member relationship, angst that heals, bad made up makeup names and references, mentions of bad past relationships, a supportive yet sassy maknae line. This is part two of a four part series.

Pairings: Female Reader x BTS members, Jimin x Jungkook (Jikook)

Summary: “Mama said the next step was always the worse for the women in our family, and that step, was patience.”

1, 2, 3 (coming August 9th)

Tonight was the night. Tonight was the launch of the Cake palette you and your team worked tirelessly for, for months. You worked through the pain of your breakup until you passed out from exhaustion, filling the painful and broken void of your heart with the struggles and stress of work. You worked yourself to the bone up until tonight, making sure everything was in place for the party and informing security that Kim Seokjin was removed from the guest list and shouldn’t be allowed entry under any circumstances. Eventually Taehyung’s words started to make sense to you: you felt enlightened now that you’ve experienced a real heartbreak. The amount of tears that you cried grew less and less with each passing hour and day of work until you couldn’t come up with a logical reason to cry anymore. And the pain? Well, most of it was gone. But then again, no one ever really gets over the pain of their first real heartbreak, do they? Now here you were with your three friends in Jimin’s and Jungkook’s apartment, getting ready for the night of celebration.

“Babe, you need to chill.” Taehyung pursed his lips at you, bopping the eyeshadow brush he held against your nose. “I’m gonna ruin your makeup if you keep shaking like that.”

“Sorry Tae,” you said absentmindedly, playing with the hem of your bright turquoise dress. “I’m just nervous.”

“About the party or about you-know-who?” Jungkook asked from across the room, carefully applying Jimin’s eyeliner. He smiled and clicked his tongue when he was done, holding up a mirror to show Jimin his work.

“Beautiful as always Kookie.” Jimin smiled, straightening out his husband’s tie before moving to sit next to you. 

He held your hand, and the warm gesture made you relax enough to allow Taehyung to finish applying your bright white eyeshadow, the shade you dubbed ‘Bavarian Cream’.

“Y/N. It’s been three months honey. If Seokjin was going to try something he would’ve done it by now.” Jimin tried to calm your nerves.

“Yeah, I’m surprised he didn’t pull our distributor out from under us.” Jungkook chuckled, touching up his smoky eye look.

“Seokjin may be a jerk, but he isn’t as low as to destroy our business. He believed in us, believed in me.” you felt tears well-up in your eyes from the fond recollection and before they could fall Jimin and Taehyung were on you in an instant.

“Nuh-uh babe, no tears tonight. This is a happy night! And if you cry you’re gonna ruin your look.” Taehyung fussed, placing a tissue under your eyes to catch the stray tears.

“Oh honey. You’re too good for that asshole. I know you loved him, but you’re so much better than he is.” Jimin kissed your knuckles in reassurance. “Prove that bitch wrong, Y/N. When he sees pictures of tonight’s launch he’s going to be wishing he never cheated on you.” you laughed at Jimin’s exuberance, nodding your head at him. 

“You’re a motherfucking woman, you don’t need an ass like Kim Seokjin to make you happy! He’s not worth your tears or your time. He’s just a scrub compared to you; a self-made, independent business woman who don’t need no man.” Jimin snapped his fingers at you, making a new wave of giggles expel from your lips. 

“You’re right Jiminie. I’m gonna prove him wrong.” you spoke with a newfound confidence the boys haven’t heard you have since the breakup, and they all smiled at each other. 

“That’s my girl.” Jimin squeezed you hand in determination. “Now, let Tae finish you up so we can leave and celebrate!” Jimin cheered, allowing his husband to place a kiss on his colored lips. You smiled at the boys, turning back to Taehyung with confidence in your eyes.

“Make me look like a bad bitch, Tae.” he giggled at your words, giving you a boxy grin.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do girl!”

You chuckled as Taehyung finished up your eyes, and you made funny faces at him when he put on your highlighter and blush (”Only the best of the V line for you, my dear”). You looked at each of your boys and pride swelled in your chest at how far you all have come. They all looked radiant.

Jungkook was the simplest of the group; his brown hair was quaffed and his foundation was basic, but his eyes were dark and smoky with underlying sins and promises, and his suit was form fitting with a black tie to match. Jimin was pristine. His eyes were in the deep matte purple of the famous ‘Mixed Berry’ color from Cake, his eyeliner was a rich blue that came from his own collection and his mouth held a nude lip color that he was touching up from the kiss he shared. He wore all white, drawing more attention to his eyes and freshly bleached-blonde hair. And Taehyung? He was absolutely gorgeous. His eyes reflected that of a sunset: the reds, oranges, and yellows from all your palettes blended in to create a cacophony of color that matched beautifully with his red hair. His full bodysuit was red as well, and even though it was a women’s cut, Taehyung’s curves and ass filled it out perfectly. His custom made six-inch heels from Gucci were drool-worthy, made with red velvet material so that he “Could walk the red carpet all the time”. His lips were thick and blood red from Jungkook’s Devil line, and you prayed for Taehyung’s boys for when he returns home that night, because god damn if you didn’t jump your friend, you knew his boys would.

“And…there! The most beautiful one of us all, is complete.” Taehyung flourished, turning you around to meet the gaze of Jimin and Jungkook. 

Your eyes were white with glitter and a sparkling liner to boot, shining wonderfully against your bright turquoise dress. The dress was low cut, revealing the skin of your chest and thighs in the most seductive way. Your lashes were long and luscious and your cheeks glowed under the lights of the apartment. Your lips looked divine, the tint of pink Taehyung applied made your lips look natural, yet enticing to the eye. And when you stood and toed on your sparkling Betsey Johnson heels, you suddenly became as tall as Taehyung, spinning around to give the boys a complete 360 view. Jimin ‘ooo’ed and Jungkook whistled low in his throat.

“If I wasn’t gay I would be all over you Y/N.” Jimin said in awe, gently running his fingers over your cheek. “Taehyung, you did an astonishing job. Your technique is superb with the winged shapes.”

As Taehyung giggled and thanked the eldest of the group you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, and you knew it was Jungkook when he chuckled behind you, his hands splaying around your hips.

“Well, I’m not completely gay, so I have every right to hang off of my incredibly gorgeous friend.” You saw Jimin purse his lips at the man behind you and Jungkook whined softly. “Oh c’mon Jiminie, can’t we whisk her off into bliss for one night? They always say that two is better than one.” he teased. You rolled your eyes and removed yourself from his hold.

“I already told you Kookie, I’m not indulging you in your threesome fantasy.” you laughed as he pouted, crossing his arms like a child would.

“But why not?” he whined. Jimin sighed and linked his arm with Jungkook’s, a coy smile playing on his face.

“Because she doesn’t want to Kookie. You’ll just have to deal with me, your loving husband.” Jimin teased, pressing numerous kisses into Jungkook’s pouty cheeks.

“Children,” Taehyung sighed fondly, linking your arm with his. “Now c’mon, or we’re going to be late for our own event!” Taehyung guided you out the door and you couldn’t help but giggle at Jungkook who whined behind you, 

“Oh, so he can hang off Y/N but I can’t?! Totally unfair.”

~*~

“What kind of sick game is he trying to play!?” you yelled in frustration, causing numerous heads to turn towards you. Jungkook chuckled nervously at your outlandish display, guiding you towards the empty bar and away from the public eye.

“Get her a drink, anything, please.” Jungkook turned towards the bartender as you groaned in frustration.

The launch had been going smoothly. Everyone adored the palette, the media attention was great, and you and your boys were having a blast. But right in the middle of it all, when you were talking to the executives of Jancôme, your phone went off. Normally you would ignore notifications during events like this, especially one you worked so hard for, but it was Seokjin. It was Seokjin and you couldn’t help but excuse yourself from the conversation to peer at the Tweet he posted. Jungkook followed in confusion, asking you why you left so abruptly when you exploded, leaving him to guide you to where you were now.

“I can’t believe the nerve of this guy,” you huffed as the bartender brought you a glass of wine. You quickly chugged it down and asked for another before turning on Jungkook. “Look at this!” you slid your phone to him.

The main part of the Tweet was a picture of the four of you in front of the Cake palette display, right next to the actual cupcake display that the owners of your favorite cake ship in Seoul catered for the event. You all were smiling as the owners of the cake shop held cupcakes in their hands, the four of you holding the palettes like you didn’t have a care in the world.

“‘I’m so proud of @BeauVCosmetics for releasing their new #CakePalette, it looks good enough to eat! Almost as good looking as @y/n_l/n007 does in that beautiful dress, own it BeauV Team!’“ you read out loud to Jungkook, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Who does he think he’s fooling, trying to play it off as if we’re friends I mean c’mon! He’s just trying to get a share of the limelight we’ve taken from him and his Bloodlust line.” you shook your head, gripping your second glass of wine hard enough that your knuckles turned white. Jungkook chuckled nervously beside you, awkwardly patting your shoulder in some semblance of comfort. 

“Maybe he really is just trying to be supportive? I mean you said earlier that he believed in us and our business?” Jungkook tried to reason with you. You huffed, standing and grabbing your wine.

“I need some air.” and with that you left him, ignoring Jungkook’s calls of your name and to wait.

You took the elevator up three floors to the rooftop lounge, and once you were out in the open air you allowed yourself to scream in frustration, running a hand through your styled hair as you kicked off your heels. You took a deep breath, looking up at the open sky as you tried to calm the rising anger you felt. But no matter how many times you took deep breaths and counted the stars, you still felt angry. The rooftop was pretty, with lounge chairs and low lighted lanterns in the planter boxes of flowers and small shrubs, but your eyes traveled to the hot tub in the back corner. You marched over to the edge of the hot tub, sticking your feet in the searing water with a shiver as you took a sip of wine.

“I’d give that scream a solid eight.”

You jumped at the sound of another voice, placing your hand over your heart when you realized you weren’t alone. There was a man standing a good couple of feet away from you, leaning against the railing of the roof, and with the low lighting and nighttime sky around you, you couldn’t make out any of his features. How had you not noticed him before?

“You gave me a fright. I’m so sorry for screaming.” you chuckled, splashing the water around you with your right foot. 

“It sounded like you needed it.” he admitted, moving closer towards you as the low lighting began to illuminate his features. 

The man was good looking, extremely so. He wasn’t the traditional kind of handsome like Seokjin was, but he had is own unique charm about him. His cat-like eyes were piercing and when laced with the light, you could clearly read the nonchalant attitude they held. His lips curled up to his left cheek in a half-sided smirk as he sauntered towards you, plopping himself down next to you on the edge of the hot tub with his back facing the water. He tilted his head in your direction, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he offered, his gaze never leaving yours.

“It’s silly, really.” you admitted, staring into your glass of wine as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. You heard him chuckle next to you.

“Do you mind?” he asked, his long fingers wrapped around a pack of smokes. He raised his brows as you looked at the package, gently taking his lower lip between his teeth as he waited for your response.

“Go ahead,” you said. You watched as he put one between his lips, flicking the old zippo lighter he had until the tip of the cig burned bright amber. He puffed out a breath of smoke and looked up at the sky, his eyes wandering over the light of the stars.

“Whenever you want to talk, I’m ready to listen,” he smirked, bringing his attention back on you. “And I know you want to. I can see it behind the hesitation in your eyes.”

Your mouth fell in a gape when you turned to look at him. The man didn’t seem to care though, puffing at his cigarette in content as he looked back up at the sky. You pursed your lips as you mulled over your thoughts, idly kicking at the water. You had already embarrassed yourself in front of this man when you screamed, why not indulge him even further?

“It’s my ex.” you started and the man next to you snorted.

“It always is,” he said through a stream of smoke.

“He cheated on me with some random chick and we broke it off on bad terms. He hurt me and broke my heart when I was in a growing phase in my life and I’m just now getting over him. But then he tries to act like we’re close on social media, complementing me and my team like he cares about us or some shit. It’s fucking pathetic.” the man hummed softly, tapping his foot as he pondered his next words.

“Seems to me like you really cared about him.” you could tell this stranger chose his words carefully and you sighed in defeat, downing the rest of the wine in your glass for liquid courage so you could tell him the truth.

“I did. He believed in me, believed in us, before we were large. He was the one that got us our connections, our distributors, without him our business would be nothing. Without him, I wouldn’t know what pain truly felt like.” you admitted softly, blinking away your tears before the stranger could see you break. Silence greeted you for a few moments, and all you could focus on was the man’s puffs and the bubbling from the hot tub.

“Seems like you’re at an internal war with yourself. On one hand, you thank him for your success, but on the other hand he hurt you beyond the point of repair. You’re not really angry at him for putting on a façade for social media. Are you?” he questioned.

“No,” you sighed. “I’m not mad about that, not really.”

“You’re upset because you feel like he’s playing you, right? Using you for his advantage and knowing he’s over you even though you’re not over him.” the stranger sighed, dragging the nub of his cig across the titles of the hot tub to put it out.

“How do you know all this?” you couldn’t help but ask. The stranger laughed through his nose, looking over at you with a sad smile as the corners of his eyes turned up.

“Because I’ve been there before.” he simply said, chuckling as he pushed himself off the hot tub. “But you know what princess? Things get better. You live, you learn, and you heal eventually. Patience is but a virtue and you have to have a lot of it to heal a broken heart completely.” he held his hand out to you, helping you out of the hot tub with a surprising gentleness. He didn’t let go of your hand as he walked you to your shoes, bending down to pick them up and hand them to you.

“These aren’t my style, but y’know what they say. Every princess needs the perfect pair of shoes. Whether they are heels or Converse, it doesn’t really matter,” he knelt down, taking your foot in his hand as he slid on one shoe, than another. He stood up, grabbing your hands as a smirk laced through his lips when he saw that you towered over him. “As long as they have the perfect fit.”

This man’s words were disarming; you never met someone who spoke as eloquently as he did. And his smile was something else, reserved but open at the same time. He intrigued you in the best of ways and you wanted nothing more than to just sit and talk with him for hours.

“Who are you?”

The man opened his mouth to speak but before he could, the elevator dinged open and out rushed Taehyung, his heels clicking against the ground. You both turned to look at him and when he saw you two his eyes widened, his lips falling open in a soft gasp. You followed his eyes to where yours and the strangers hands were linked, quickly dropping them down to your sides.

“Y/N.” Taehyung broke the silence, moving towards you in swift steps. “We were worried sick. Jungkook came running up to us, saying you stormed off and we couldn’t find you anywhere-”

“Taehyung,” the stranger cut him off. “Y/N’s fine, she’s been up here with me. She just needed to vent for a little bit, isn’t that right?” the stranger playfully nudged your side

“Wait, wait, hold up. You two know each other?” you asked Taehyung, your eyes darting between the two men.

“Y/N, this is Yoongi-hyung, my plus one.”

“Taehyung invited me because he said I needed social interaction,” Yoongi smirked, looking up at his lavish friend. “And much to all our shock I did in fact engage in conversation, even though it wasn’t in the setting you expected, huh Tae?”

“I’ll admit I am surprised hyung. I’m proud of you.” Taehyung smiled, patting his friend on the back. “But c’mon back downstairs you two, the party is still alive and well and people are still dying to chat with you Y/N.” Taehyung grabbed yours and Yoongi’s hands, dragging you into the elevator much to both of your dismays. 

“So how did you two…?” your thought trailed off, wondering how two contrasting men ever came to be friends.

“Meet?” Yoongi chuckled. “At an art gallery in Daegu. Taehyung found me and he was utterly enamored.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung whined. “Don’t say it so lamely. When I heard Yoongi’s music, I knew that we had to be friends. I couldn’t just let raw talent like that walk away from me!”

“I made the music for the event,” Yoongi explained, noticing your confused look. The elevator opened back out into the party and Yoongi clapped his hands together.

“As much as I enjoyed this, I really should be on my way to the other guests. I enjoyed myself tonight Y/N, hopefully we’ll meet again.” he left you and Tae with a parting smile and a flick of his wrist, escaping into the throngs of people. You chuckled, stepping off the elevator with Taehyung, shaking your head.

“Oh, I know that look.” Taehyung frowned, his eyes squinting at the expression he saw in your face. 

“Don’t worry about it Tae.”

Taehyung sighed when you went back out into the crowd, shaking his head in disbelief before immersing himself into the talk of makeup and brand deals.

~*~

Yoongi idly walked through the art exhibition, cigarette between his fingers as he examined the pieces with mild interest. The art gallery was in an outside hotel plaza, fairy lights adorned the trees as Yoongi’s jazz compositions flew through the open air, embracing the guests in the warm comfort that only pianos and saxophones could bring. He hummed along softly to the wordless music as he wandered, coming to stop at a piece depicting an alien world in some nameless galaxy. He chuckled, his eyes never wavering from the painting as he shook his head.

“Y/N?” he called, “Come out from hiding, I know you’re there.”

You cursed under your breath, coming out of the shadows to stand next to Yoongi.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I guess you could call it a seventh sense,” he told you, sending you a half-sided smirk as he took a drag. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

“Taehyung told me you would. He said you always compose for Art Walk.”

“For good reason. They fund local artists, showcase their work to potential clients. It’s a good organization and event.” Yoongi deliberated, flicking some ash away into the open air. You both stood there in silence for a few minutes, staring at the painting before Yoongi flicked his spent cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his foot for good measure.

“Come walk with me.” he told you, turning to stroll through the rest of the gallery. You followed him, idly looking at the various displays with little interest.

“So, why’re you here?” Yoongi asked.

“Can’t I just be here to support local artists?” you defended, making the man next to you chuckle.

“I would’ve believed that if you weren’t hiding behind those trees.”

“Okay, fine, I just really wanted to talk with you again.” you admitted with blush on your cheeks.

“Y’know, most people would just call and ask for a date right?” Yoongi smirked when he saw you sputter, his eyes growing soft when your blush grew.

“W-Who said I wanted to go on a date with you?! Maybe I just wanted to see you in a merely platonic way.” you stuttered. Yoongi hummed, looking at you with a small smile on his face.

“Right.”

You two continued walking through the plaza, thanking god you chose to wear flats to this event instead of heels. Without the added height from your shoes, you were almost level with Yoongi, give or take a couple of inches that his dress shoes gave him. He looked handsome under the soft glow of the lights, his dark hair shining and his all black attire made him look mysterious and provocative. Sure it was just black jeans, a button-up, and a leather jacket, but he made the simple clothing look great. He had in silver earrings, noting that he didn’t have them in at your launch. Could he have been insecure about them enough to take them out as to not make the wrong impression in front of potential clients? You knew Jimin and Jungkook did the same thing (Taehyung, honestly, couldn’t give two fucks about it and kept his earrings in always) but you would’ve thought Yoongi wouldn’t care about trivial things like that. 

“Have you been to the music plaza yet?” Yoongi asked you suddenly, making you jump slightly at the sound of his voice.

“No, I haven’t.” you admitted.

“Would you like to?” he asked, holding his hand out to you. You glanced between his face and his hand for a few seconds too long before Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Fine, don’t hold my hand then.” he teased, dropping his hand back to his side as he walked away. 

You scurried after him, hearing his soft chuckle when you laced your fingers with his. His hand was calloused, but smooth and oh so warm as his long fingers loosely gripped your own. Yoongi began to swing your hands lightly as he guided you out of the art gallery and down the block towards where the bands were playing. He squeezed your hand gently, looking over at you expectantly.

“So, what’re you in the mood for?”

“Hmm,” you pondered your next move carefully. You didn’t know what kind of music Yoongi liked, all you knew was that he made soft jazz. And THAT didn’t help much considering the fact you couldn’t hear any brass elements in the air that made up jazz. 

“Can we wander? Stop at something we both like?” you suggested. Yoongi gave you a nod, before taking you along the avenues of music. Everyone was good, and everyone was talented. Different genres rang through your ears the more you walked and nothing really caught your attention, until you made it down the end of the street. You gripped Yoongi’s hand a little tighter, making him stop in his stroll.

“I didn’t take you as a soft rock fan.” Yoongi chuckled, guiding you closer towards the stage. There were four or five couples slow dancing to the sounds of electric guitar and pounding drums, the tempo slow and steady. The singer’s raspy voice made your heart pound in anticipation as you looked at Yoongi. Would he allow you to slow dance with him and savor the music? Yoongi hummed along to the melody, gently letting go of your hand. You almost whined in protest.

“Now don’t pout,” Yoongi smirked, his eyes light and full of mischief. “Otherwise I may take back my thoughts of asking you for a dance.”

Yoongi’s smirked turned into a full smile when you blushed, taking a step closer to him. Yoongi’s hands guided your arms to drape around his neck, his own wrapping loosely around your waist as he led you in a slow shuffle. You both swayed to music as you turned in slow circles. You noticed Yoongi’s eyes never left your face, even as yours shifted focus from him, to the band, and down to your feet, his eyes were steady like the music. 

“What’re you staring at?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“You,” Yoongi’s voice was soft and endearing, and his bluntness made you part your lips in shock. “Aren’t you supposed to look at your partner when you dance?” Yoongi countered back snidely. You had no comeback for that, so instead you just laid your head down onto Yoongi’s shoulder as you moved.

“So, how’s the business?”

“Going strong, we’re taking a break before we start coming up with more products. We want the Cake hype to die down then wait a couple months before trying to come up with new products.” you spoke softly and Yoongi pulled you closer, whether it was to just hear you better or create more contact you didn’t know, but you liked it.

“And the ex drama?” Yoongi asked. You scoffed, shaking your head into the leather of his jacket.

“Over it. It was silly and he hasn’t done anything since.”

“That’s good to hear. You’re too strong to be hung up over an idiot like that.”

Yoongi’s words made you smile, and you finished the slow dance in silence, clapping and leaving a tip for the band as they packed up their equipment. Yoongi walked you back to your car, making you laugh and making you smile, making you intrigued to want to know more. To know more about him, what he does, what his passions were. You knew you made the right choice when you asked for his number, because the smile he gave you was one like no other as he punched it into your phone. You knew Yoongi was something else, because the only other smile you’ve seen that radiant was from Taehyung, and you wanted to make it appear over and over again.

~*~

Days turned into weeks, and the time you spent with Yoongi increased with each day that passed you by. The more you both talked, the more you both laughed, the more you realized you had some sort of feelings for the man. You didn’t know if it was love, but whatever it was, it was there, and it was growing, and it was so much better than anything you felt with Kim Seokjin. Seokjin was seductive and Seokjin was society’s standard of perfect. But Yoongi? Yoongi was provocative, not in the way he acted, but the way he spoke. His words never failed to make you breathless as your mind pondered over his thoughts. Yoongi was ragged around the edges, but he was beautiful in the way he spoke, the way he acted, in the way his eyes would flicker with sparks when speaking passionately and in the way he really smiled, a thing you’ve seen more as time went on.

And his music was just like him. You couldn’t remember how many times Yoongi asked you to listen to his music, new and old alike to get your opinion. You didn’t realize the extent of his passion and work, originally thinking all he did was instrumental pieces. Oh, was that far from the truth. He rapped, his way with words making memorable compositions that you begged him to let you download for your personal use. He also produced music for others; some fellow rappers and some singers. The variety of music though, is what surprised you the most. Whether it was classical or jazz  or rock or rap, Yoongi always added his own flair of life into the music with hip hop undertones and beats you could always count out when listening to the song. 

That’s what you were doing tonight. And as you sat on his bed, waiting for him to start the song, you noticed the hesitation in his eyes.

“You alright Yoongi?” he sighed at the sound of your voice, turning to look at you with a solemn expression, as if he was about to confess his sins to you.

“I want to listen to this song with earbuds this time.” he said, laying down on his side of the bed as he plugged the buds into his phone. This was unusual for him, he always played his songs from his laptop with the speakers on his desk.

“Is there any reason why?” you probed.

“This song��is very dear to me,” he explained. “I wrote it when I was in a very dark place, when my ex broke up with me. I’ve never shared it with anyone before, besides the woman that sings it for me. But I want you to hear it. Because I trust you, Y/N.” he confessed.

“Yoongi-”

“I’m sure I want to do this.” Yoongi stole the words right out of your mouth, the corners of his lips turning upwards at your shock. “You’ve been asking why I act the way I do and speak the way I speak. Well, this explains it all. So come, lay with me.” he patted the open space with one hand, the other offering you the other earbud.

You sighed and laid yourself down next to Yoongi on his bed and allowed the music to consume your entire focus. The bass reminded you of a heartbeat as the vocalist sang behind it; her voice powerful and strong. Soft electronic undertones and piano joined the composition, and your ears felt light as the lyrics dug deep into your heart and rooted themselves in with no intention of coming out. You listened carefully to Yoongi’s words and the emotion he had laced into them. Your eyes welled with tears as the song went on and you tried to blink them away, but Yoongi reached out for your hand, meeting your gaze in dim light of his room. His eyes were dark and stormy and matched the lyrics of the songs perfectly. He shook his head, and with that you allowed the tears to roll freely down your cheeks, squeezing his hand back as the song ended. You both laid together in silence, holding each other’s hands as if they were your lifelines to the real world. 

“You were really hurt.” you stated softly, looking into Yoongi’s soulless eyes. He hummed in acknowledgement, tentatively brushing his fingers along your cheek.

“I was,” he whispered. “I still am sometimes, but it’s okay. I guess that’s why I act and speak the way I do now. I don’t want to be personable nor do I want to be relatable. Reading people comes easy now after that experience, and I keep my distance to keep from hurting again. But it’s okay.”

“Yoongi,” you sat up, pulling Yoongi with you as you took the earbud out of your ear. “I care about you a lot. More than I probably should for knowing you only for a few months. But I really like you. I like you so, so much and I don’t want you to live with the memories of that hurt anymore.” your sudden confession was met with silence at first, but then, Yoongi laughed, removing his own earbud.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, yeah I’m sure.” you chuckled nervously, running a hand through your hair as you blushed. You weren’t planning on sharing your growing feelings with Yoongi, but it was out there, and you couldn’t take it back now. Yoongi didn’t say anything for a minute. He just stared at your fingers that were laced with his. With a sigh, he let go of your hand and you felt your blood run cold.

“I can’t.” he said, shaking his head at you. “I’m sorry.”

“But aren’t you tired Yoongi? Aren’t you tired of living in an inescapable trap of pain?” 

“Of course I am-”

“Then why can’t we heal each other and stop hurting?” you asked. “I want to move on completely, and I want to be happy again, and I want to do it with you. I know it’s hard, living with that hollow feeling pain brings you. But pain doesn’t last forever, I should know, but-”

“I can’t because you don’t love me.” Yoongi said simply, finally turning his head to look at you. “Not really.”

“You don’t know how I feel Yoongi.” he just chuckled, pulling out a smoke and lighting it up.

“You’re right. I don’t know how you feel Y/N. But I do know what love is. And what you have isn’t it.” he paused, contemplating his next words.

“Love isn’t that easy to come about,” Yoongi explained with a sigh of smoke, standing from the bed to languidly pace around the room. 

“We aren’t in a John Green novel or a 90′s rom com. Love is insatiable. Love in the real world isn’t like the Disney fantasies that’ve perpetuated everyone into believing that you can fall in love in a short period of time. Love is-” Yoongi stopped his movement, turning to look into your eyes from across the room. His lips pulled up into a half-smile as the cigarette hung between his teeth.

“Love is raw. Love grows with time, and patience. You can’t just jump into love. You have to earn it, respect it, and let it grow.” Yoongi moved towards you, his gait slow and each step he took felt like minutes were passing by. Finally, he stood in front of you, your head level with his chest. You looked up at him, the white of your eyes growing red with tears. Yoongi blew out a puff of smoke, extinguishing the half used cig with the tips of his fingers and shoving it in his pocket. He gently cupped your cheeks with his hands, tilting his head as his eyes roamed your face. Yoongi sighed out a laugh, gently biting his lower lip as he shook his head.

“Y’know, I told myself I was never going to fall in love again. And that plan was working just fine until I met you. What I feel isn’t true love, not yet anyways. But it’s enough to know I can’t deny my feelings for you.” his thumbs rubbed your cheeks as he spoke, his gaze never wavering.

“But you, princess, are surely mistaken. You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. The idea of a happy ending after the pain you’ve just been through. An easy way out. Hmm?” Yoongi wiped at the tears that fell down your cheeks, mascara caking onto his thumbs. He gently shushed you, guiding your head to lay against his chest as you hugged him around his middle. Yoongi began to hum, gently rocking you as you cried. 

You cried because he was right. You cried because you were mistaking friendship for love; and everything became clearer once Yoongi said those words. Because what you felt, felt like how you did with Taehyung, only intensified from the newness of the experience. All the blushing, all the nerves and racing heartbeats, came because you had only done those things with past lovers, and with Taehyung. And the idea of Yoongi being in the same realm as Taehyung never crossed your mind, only the thoughts of a potential lover did, spurred on from impatience of finding some semblance of love again to rid yourself of the lingering pain in your heart. Even though Yoongi was more reserved than Taehyung was, both men had that flirty edge to them, and both loved contact. Maybe you had really undermined them and their personalities; they were more alike than you thought. Once you realized this you just cried harder, for not only leading Yoongi on, but for being so stupid as to mistake what you felt for romantic love. Were you really that desperate?

“I’m sorry.” you gasped into his chest.

“It’s okay Y/N. Just let it out.” he coaxed, placing a kiss into your hair. 

“You’re right. You’re always right about how I feel. I’m such a fool.” you sniffled, peering back to look up at Yoongi’s blank face.

“You’re not foolish to want something, Y/N. It’s not foolish to want love, not at all. But that love won’t be with me. Princess, you’re beautiful. Smart. Insightful. You’ll find your Prince Charming eventually. I promise you that. You just need time, that’s all.” he smiled down at you sadly.

“I’m willing to wait.” you tried to give the man a feeling of hope, but he just chuckled.

“I’ll believe you if you can come back to me and say those same words of confession in a year.” he smiled. “I’ve been patient all these years, what’s a couple more added on? I don’t think I’m going to hurt very much anymore, now that I know you.”

“I’m sorry Yoongi. But I do like you, platonically that is, can we still be-”

“Don’t.” Yoongi cut you off, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t say the ‘f’ word yet, because once you say it, everything’s going to change for me.”

“Yoongi…”

“Can I do something? Can I do something before we shift into being just friends? So I don’t regret anything.” Yoongi’s words were ominous, but you nodded anyways. He stared at you with a newfound determination at your approval, his eyes searching yours intently. 

“What’re you waiting for?” you whispered.

“I want to remember every detail of this, so I don’t forget.”

Yoongi nodded once before leaning down to place a kiss on your lips. His lips were firm and warm, the taste of smoke filling your senses as your lips moved against each other. His movements were languid and slow and you wrapped your arms around his neck to relish in the feeling of being kissed again. You felt fingers tug at your hair, angling your face up to give Yoongi better access to your mouth as his tongue gently parted your lips, meeting your tongue with calculated strokes.  There was no rush to the kiss, nor was there any urgency behind it; the two of you were content in just savoring the feeling of warmth spreading through your veins. To savor the feeling of being held with such love and care, of feeling protected and safe within the grasp of another. 

You parted from Yoongi’s lips with a soft gasp, your noses bumping together as you caught your breath. You could’ve sat there and kissed Yoongi for hours, you didn’t want the feelings to end. Yoongi chuckled low in his throat, leaving a peck against your lips.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “That was amazing, and more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”

“Of course,” you whispered.

“Y’know, Taehyung told me about the time you both kissed in middle school, how you were each other’s first kiss.” Yoongi smiled, moving to sit next to you. “Since I figured our friendship is gonna be like yours and Tae’s, we should kiss at least once. That and because I just really wanted to.”

You groaned in horror that Yoongi knew that secret, burying your face in your hands. The mood was completely gone now.

“I’m gonna kill that son-of-a-”

“Easy there tiger,” Yoongi chuckled, “No need to get all worked up. It’s cool.”

“It was supposed to be a secret though.”

“I think it’s cute. Since you’re both still close.” Yoongi admitted and you smiled sheepishly at him.

“Taehyung called me after the Cake launch y’know? Telling me that you were curious about me. He also told me not to hurt you if anything happened between us. He really cares about you, you know that?” Yoongi continued on, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Taehyung…” you paused, trying to come up with the right words to say. “Taehyung means the world to me. He’s been with me through thick and thin.” you admitted.

“And you mean the world to him too.” Yoongi said.

“How long have you known that I didn’t really love you?” you couldn’t help but ask, the curiosity was eating you alive.

“Art walk,” Yoongi shrugged. “You didn’t have that spark, and even though your body language said differently, I think it was because you were nervous. And to be physically intimate like that with a new person always gets pheromones running.”

“Hit it right on the head,” you chuckled. “I wanted to know more about you. I love the way you talk and provoke the mind with your thoughts.”

“That’s an overtly sexual way of saying ‘You have a cool brain, let’s be friends so I can talk to you.’“ you giggled at Yoongi’s bluntness, shaking your head at him.

“You really meant what you said?” you asked.

“About?”

“About me finding love, you think I can?”

Yoongi just smiled, taking your hand into both of his own.

“Well, I never lie. And yes, I do. Like I said, you’re beautiful, smart, an amazing kisser,” Yoongi paused to send you a cheesy wink. “You’ll find love and get your happily ever after. Believe me, you will. Even if it isn’t with me, I’ll still be happy when you finally meet the right person for you, and I expect every single detail when it does happen. And like my mother always said; good things come to those who wait.”

[rubyredsparks]

Blossoming Souls Ch. 16

Relationship(s): Romantic Logince, Moxiety; Platonic every other relationship

“Tags” for the whole story: morally grey!deceit, Deceit, Remus, Thomas as a character, Romance, Minor violence, someone’s potty mouth, Foul language, Minor homophobia (it’s not that bad), Miscommunication (this one is though), Friendship

Chapter Summary: The end of the beginning

Thomas couldn’t believe his son was here in the flesh. The son that he lost thirteen years ago. The son that he thought was dead was here, standing in front of him.

“Remus- Remus, is it really you?”

“Ah, ah, ah, daddy dearest, it’s Captain Amaryllis Hollyhock now.” Remus gave him a sweeping bow, mocking smile playing on his lips. “Captain of the Wormwood Cabbage, at your service.”

Thomas was in total shock that his only thought was, “Cabbage?”

Remus shrugged, “Inside joke. Don’t get me off topic! I’m here to kill you!” He laughed gleefully, taking out a knife from a scabbard that Thomas did not want to know where it came from.

All hope that he could have his son back peacefully died when Remus stabbed the knife at the air in front of him. “Why?”

“Because Daddy Dearest, you ruined my life!” Remus said with a manic smile, and Thomas absolutely refused to acknowledge the pirate name. “There I was, an ickle ten year, bright eyed and bushy tailed, getting ready for the banquet and festival and tourney, absolutely ready to join in some swash buckling and swords flying.

“But you said no, that I was too young to participate. Took away my sword, the thing that I spent so long saving up for.” He growled, the dagger getting dangerously closer to Thomas’ face as he stepped back, hitting his desk.

“So I snuck out! No one noticed, or no one was supposed to. Imagine my surprise when Papa found me, taking me back by ear. Boy, was he mad! But guess who found us?” Remus looked expectantly at him, eyes gleaming red.

Thomas didn’t know if he was supposed to answer. He didn’t remember any of this happening. He never got word about this. Virgil told him that the two got kidnapped by pirates.

“Guess!” Remus shrieked, dagger catching on his cheek, blood trickling down. “Oops,” he giggled. “My bad, well if you won’t guess, then I’ll just tell you, though it isn’t as fun.”

Remus licked the blood from the dagger, eyes glazing over thoughtfully. And Thomas took his time to fully examine his son that he hadn’t seen in over thirteen years.

His son was taller now, a man’s build that he only felt like he remembered was a young boy the other day. He supposed it was just the other that he thought Remus was a child. Now his son was twenty three, barely half an inch taller than him and threatening him with a knife.

Times changed.

Remus was wearing a green long sleeved tunic, belt tied around his waist with what looked like an octopus as its buckle. His trousers were blue or black, Thomas couldn’t really tell at this angle, white strings keeping it up.

He was tanner than Roman, clearly being out in the sun more. And Thomas had to take a metaphorical step back as he remembered that his son had probably been turned into a pirate. It made his stomach turn in guilt.

Remus’ hair was shorn short on his left side, longer hair growing out to the side that it nearly covered his eyes as he flicked it to the side. Curiously, Thomas noticed the grey streak prominent in the middle of his hair, heart clenching when he thought about what must have happened for that to get there. He even had a scruff of a beard, something akin to peach fuzz around his mouth.

“-- And so I told him that the A and H stand for Asshole. So he could stick his concerns up my asshole for all I cared. I was going to conquer the nine seas if his life depended on it, so I stabbed him.” Remus ended his tangent with a little shrug, picking the undersides of his nails with the dagger.

“That was…” Thomas swallowed, “graphic.”

Remus’ eyes lit up, more brown than the red it was before, “If you want, I can tell you something really wild. Now, no spoilers but it involved an octopus and several men and one sword.”

Thomas really didn’t want to know that story. He opened his mouth to say something before he felt his knees buckling, staggering to lean his weight on the desk behind him.

“That must be the poison!” Remus said cheerfully. “Though it worked slower than I was promised,” he pouted. “I’ll have to kill the merchant. Shame, he had such a handsome dick.”

“Don't you mean face?” Thomas asked, face paling. Please mean face, he prayed. He really did not want to hear about his son’s exploits.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I suppose. But his dick. I mean that cock was just-!”

“Please,” Thomas said, clamping his both of his ears with his hands as the blood drained from his face, “do not finish that sentence.”

“Spoilsport,” Remus’ pout deepened. “You’re the killjoy I remember you being, Daddy dearest. Ah well, you’re about to die anyway.”

“If the dagger’s been poisoned shouldn’t you be dying as well?”

“What a fun question!” Remus’ eyes lit up. “Of course not, I’ve built up quite an intolerance to poisons in all these years that I’ve been gone, Daddy!”

“What happened to Papa?”

The good mood in Remus’ eyes vanished. “Died protecting me from the pirates I now lead. Oh, papa, at least you tried. Unlike you.”

Thomas’ stomach left him as all hope vanished. With Remus standing in front of him, he could delude himself into thinking J- his husband was still alive. But all of that disappeared by the hard look Remus gave him. He couldn’t hold his weight anymore, sliding to the floor.

Remus leaned over him, mouth near his ear. “Enjoy hell, daddy. I’ll enjoy ruining your kingdom.”

The door slammed open, and Remus tore himself away from Thomas, hand outstretched after throwing a knife. It made a thud against the frame, Roman peeking out from behind the door.

“Darn, that was my last knife,” Remus whigned, stamping his foot slightly. “Guess, I’ll have to make do with swords instead.”

He pulled out a sword from somewhere again that Thomas definitely didn’t want to know came from, and swung it in his hand lazily as he waited. Thomas wondered how it could be Roman when he distinctly remember that Roman was at the tourney.

The door opened wide, Roman holding his sword at the ready, still decked out in his armour, face furious. Thomas couldn’t see his face as he stepped closer, obscured by Remus stepping in front of him.

Roman stalked forward as his eyes settled on Remus and his grip faltered. “Rem-rem?”

“Hello~ Ro-ro!” Remus sang, swinging his sword jauntily.

“You’re a pirate?” Roman said in disbelief, taking in his attire and figuring out much quicker than Thomas did. “Why would you be a pirate? Pirates ruined our lives. They took you and Papa away from us!”

“No, they saved my life!” Remus threw back. “Papa died, saving me, and I became a pirate for him.”

“That’s a bit of flawed logic,” Roman scoffed.

“Oh suck a dick,” Remus growled. “Daddy dearest over there ruined our lives. He let Papa die!”

“Father did no such thing!” Roman yelled, sword arm swinging. “He searched for the both of you for years! He mourned for you! I mourned for you!”

“Well, I’m alive! So stick a finger up your asshole!”

Distantly, he noticed that Remus had stalked forward enough that Roman was able to crowd him away from Thomas and more toward the window he came in. He heard quiet footsteps, “Hello, your Majesty.” Logan said, hushed. “It’s me, Logan. Help is on the way.”

Thomas grabbed Logan’s hand in gratitude. He wondered if the dizziness he was feeling was the poison making its way into his heart. Poisoned twice in a row. Virgil was not going to be pleased.

“Don’t think I don’t see your boy toy, Ro-ro,” Remus taunted, and Thomas’ grip on Logan’s hand tightened.

“Don’t call him that,” Roman gritted out, his hand a flurry as his rage got more intense.

“What is he then?” Remus pointed out, stabbing toward Roman. “He’s your Intended. Daddy announced it at the ball. Your Destined as they call it in Aowhea.” Remus chanced a sly look at Logan, and Thomas could see the fury in Logan’s eyes. “Or is he just another toy you’re stringing along. You’ve got a listful of them after all.”

“You’ve kept track?” Roman asked, spinning to dodge an attack.

Remus tensed, stabbing forward mercilessly quick again. “NO!”

“You did, baby brother, you do care!” Roman laughed in delight, neatly dodging Remus’ furious attacks.

“Stop calling me baby brother!” Remus demanded. “You’re barely a minute older!”

“Still older,” Roman sang. “And, it seems I'm taller than you too, Rem-Rem!”

“Half an inch!” Remus growled, lunging in anger. “I’m Captain of the most feared pirate ship in all the nine seas! What have you done? You couldn’t even kill the Dragon Witch!”

“I thought we said we were never going to talk about that!” Roman screeched as he dodged. “Besides what kind of name is Hollycock anyhow? Are you calling yourself a chicken.”

“It's Hollyhock, And at least I’m getting cock,” Remus leered, and Roman flushed red, glancing away.

Which was his inevitable downfall. Because Remus swept his leg under Roman’s, making him fall hard on his butt on the floor. Logan cried out in shock. “Oh, shut up, boy toy,” growling as he kicked Roman’s sword away.

Remus towered over him, sword pointing at his neck and foot resting on Roman’s chest. “Finally after thirteen years, I get to slice that obnoxious face of yours to pieces.”

“We have the same face!” Roman protested, the heel of Remus’ boot putting more pressure on his chest.

“Mine is better,” Remus sneered. He lifted his sword, ready to swing.

Roman braced himself, eyes screwing themselves closed without his meaning to. Only for a loud clang to reverberate throughout the room.

Roman opened his eyes to see King Ernst standing over Remus’ unconscious body with a disgruntled look, dropping the metal vase with disgust. “Well, that was tedious.”

“What?” he asked at the varying degrees of disbelief staring at him. “You left the door open. He should’ve been paying more attention to his surroundings.”

“Father, what’s this about me being someone’s Destined?” Logan asked, fury prominent in his voice despite its evenness.

King Ernst had the grace to look away to hide his guilty look. Deliriously, Thomas thought that he was still the same man Thomas remembered meeting over twenty years ago.

“I’m still poisoned, I hope you realized.” Thomas said weakly before vomiting.

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

“So, I guess the wedding’s off?” Virgil asked, staring at the pond.

“I don’t think so,” Patton said thoughtfully. “Prince Logan is furious with his Father, but he understands why his Father did it the way he did. He might not agree with it, he may be very furious with the decision, but he understands. What about Roman?”

“I think the idiot Prince is in love with your Prince,” Virgil said with a shake of his head. “He might be willing to do a longer courtship now. Take the slow road.”

“Well, I suppose that’s fair, especially after all they’ve been through.” Patton nodded his head, hand absentmindedly feeding oats to the ducks surrounding them. “What happened to Remus?”

“They’ve thrown him into the stocks three days a week for two months,” Virgil said, watching Patton coo over ducklings feeding from his palms. “He’s left doing the grunt work, scuttling around to make up for his offenses. He’s cuffed, can’t go anywhere without at least three guards. He’s been stripped of his prince’s station, but he’s still royalty, just lower in rank. A duke, I think.”

“His Majesty?”

“King Thomas is going to be fine. Healer Brian said that the poison Remus administer to him was a low dosage. He’ll just be incredibly sick for the next two weeks.”

“Can you believe this all happened when we’ve only been here for almost a month. That was a wild b-ride from start to finish.”

“Pat,” Virgil said annoyingly fond, “that was terrible.”

“Thank you!” Patton beamed. “I couldn’t tear myself away from that pun! I’d rather book it than let in lie in pieces.”

“Patton, please,” Virgil begged.

“Ah, there you two lovebirds are!” An annoyingly flamboyant voice startled the two, making them jump apart.

Virgil sighed in annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do you want Roman?”

“Can’t I hang out with the two of you without any secret motives?” Roman blinked innocently.

“You clearly have one, you don’t come around to me without one.”

“What if I wanted to talk to Patton?” Roman pouted, crossing his arms.

Virgil raised his brow, and Roman deflated. “Okay, I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to talk to Patton too, but mainly you.”

“What’s up, kiddo?” Patton took pity on him.

Roman glanced nervously over at Logan, who was obliviously reading under a gazebo. He took out a small velvet box, and Patton gasped, hands on his cheeks and pushing his glasses up.

“Is that-?”

Roman shushed him, looking around to make sure Logan didn’t see anything. “I don’t want Logan to know.”

“Merciful Lady, Roman, is that a ring?” Virgil asked in exasperation.

“It’s my something small,” Roman defended himself. He opened it up, showing the two the ring.

It was cast in a soft coloured gold, small blue sapphires and rubies encrusted into the metal. It was nothing fancy, simple but luxurious enough that it was obvious Roman spent time and money into this. Patton inspected it closer, noticing something inside the band. “Are those-?”

Roman nodded fondly, “Asters and wisterias. I’ve been reading up on them, the languages. Wisteria means welcome or welcoming and asters have a whole slew of meanings, but I’m going to use the universal one: which is symbol of love.”

Virgil snorted, “How very you.”

The Prince only preened, not taking any offense. “I’m going to give this to him now.” he said, standing up.

Patton waved, out of duck feed, “Good luck.”

Roman nodded determinedly, he walked over to Logan’s side, procuring a bouquet of light pink and dark red roses from nowhere. He looked nervous as Logan looked up.

“You think they’ll be alright?” Virgil asked out of the blue.

Patton hummed, giving it some thought. His hair fell in front of his eyes as he turned to face Virgil, “Yeah, I think they will.”

“And… and us?” Patton could practically taste Virgil’s anxiety in the air. He heard a shriek and hid a smile.

He dug in his pockets, pulling out something small. “Here, something small, right? That’s how you Eiehdens do it around here?”

Virgil looked at the object in Patton’s hand with a little hint of confusion. But he took the small beaded bracelet with charms carefully, holding it reverently in his fingers.

“I’ll help you put it on,” Patton said with a small smile, taking the purple bracelet and looping it around Virgil’s wrist.

He wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulder carefully, feeling how he tensed. “I think we’re going to be alright.”

He glanced back, seeing how Roman and Logan were hugging the life out of each other. Patton smiled, wide and broad.

“I think we’re all going to be alright.”

A/N: and that marks the end of Blossoming Souls. Thank you so much for reading!

Masterpost | Previous

[slothydaydreamer]

HOTD, episode 6 thoughts:

Rhaenyra is a damn queen already for walking around like this after giving birth. The trail of blood she leaves behind, damn...

Laenor has grown into a true beauty. He's so pretty!! I'm in love with the new hair cut 😍

(I'm also glad that he found other love after losing Joffrey)

Less pleased that he's not as involved with everything. (Then again...he did not fully get what he was promised. It's tough.)

Alicent is being a proper asshole here. ^^''''''

(Also callout here for the german translation turning Joffrey into Gottfried... Do I see the logic behind it on a linguistical level? Yeah. Am I appalled and disturbed? ALSO YES. like, they didn't do that with GOT Joffrey, did they??? Why here, why now, it feels so incredibly awkward... I mean, that makes it even more blatantly clear that it's not a Valyrian name, but still. The parallel with the other bastard called Joffrey in the future is getting lost this way...)

Aemond 😔😔😔😔😔😔😔

They're so mean to him and AEGON STOP LYING, YOU LOOK LIKE YOU STARTED IT.

Aegon jacking off lmao. Exhibitionist + hedonist in the making. Really would like to know the thought process behind him wanting to cum on the town.

Alicent tho, please don't talk to your kid right after catching him butt naked mid jerking off, like pleeeeeeease

Laena and Daemon are somehow a dream couple, she matches his temper, ambition, etc and apparently fulfills his elitist need for silver valyrian hair and blood

Laena stays one of the best and coolest characters. She's so good at emotions, handling her husband, her kids... And a force standing for herself

(in another universe, Rhea and Laena are a thing and rocking the world)

The two kiddos are so cute 😍

Laena: I think you miss your brother too

SEE, EVEN SHE SEES IT. I'm not insane. Daemon, just admit it.

Laena is and stays one of the best characters. Rest in peace, girl. I'm glad she got away before they did her dirty like Aemma.

(100% sure that Daemon was down for it and I would have hated him for it.)

rip to the Strongs... I liked them

I'm blaming the german voice actor for making Larys sound hot while committing horrible atrocities.

[sparrowlicious]

The HS AU Masterpost

.... or actually, ‘the high school AU’ but I pretty much always shorten it down when I talk about it. :)  This AU was co-developed with @heart-chan-artblog. In this post: THE PLOT and links to art I did for this AU. Sorry to mobile users, this is LONG. ):  (Since I’ve been asked about the ages: They’re actually at the END of high school and they’re already 18 when they get intimate for the first time. So no iffy underage stuff!)

Quick note: Unrealistic stuff like how school works and the law and everything, sorry about that. But hey, it’s fiction! The plot: As the name suggests, Kylo and Hux both go to high school in this AU. :) They have a lot of classes together and don’t like each other AT ALL at first. Hux is quite the cold, always-annoyed nerd who is friends with Phasma and has Mitaka as a sort of tag-along pseudo-lackey to boot. Meanwhile, Kylo is the odd emo kid who pretty much doesn’t let anyone near him and also somehow got people to call him ‘Kylo Ren’ instead of Ben Solo.  Kylo and Hux one day have to do a project for a class together. They don’t get along so well but still manage to get at least a B. While Kylo is pretty happy about that grade, Hux stalks off to the bathroom to hide that he’s having a minor breakdown which quickly turns into a major breakdown. Kylo notices of course and after discovering that Hux is pretty much crying over a grade that isn’t even a bad one he taunts him at first .... until he realizes that this is actually a pretty big deal for Hux. Especially since Hux explains through his sobs that he’s scared of going home.  Since Kylo isn’t such a big dick after all he persuades Hux to go home and promises to go with him, theorizing that his father won’t treat Hux too harshly when there’s a guest. Brendol disagrees with that evaluation and strikes his son in front of his class mater across the face - so hard that he’s off balance and falls on his ass. Kylo is outraged and tries to start trouble but Brendol kicks him out and essentially bans him from the house. That actually leads to Hux hanging out more often with Kylo, even tutoring him in Maths and otherwise staying at his place after school to do this or that - sometimes without Kylo’s parents being aware of it. Hux does that dumb teenager thing where he climbs up a lattice just so he can get to Kylo’s room. Of course Kylo is a bit confused about that at first but he soon gets used to it since he knows that Hux doesn’t exactly have a chill time at home. For Hux, Kylo’s place becomes his safe haven. Hux also catches a glimpse of Kylo’s personal hell - which is that his parents sometimes quarrel loudly. It’s pretty bad. One time Kylo hides Hux under his bed so that Leia doesn’t find him in his room when she goes check on him. That leads to Hux finding Kylo’s stash of gay porn and a dildo/vibrator. Hux decides to file that information for later since he needs to digest this first and also, because he too is gay but never thought he’d have any chance with Kylo who he’d come to like quite ... a lot by that time.  They end up ‘accidentally’ cuddling (and not so accidentally with time) and growing even closer over time. Only when Hux reveals that he knows about Kylo’s gay porn and that he’s probably gay does Kylo even get his hopes up that he could actually get into a relationship with Hux. Only that neither of them makes the first move. They cuddle a lot and on the outside it looks as if they’re already dating.  There’s lots of mutual pining involved by this point. While Kylo and Hux stick together as if they were already in a relationship, they also hang out a lot with Phasma and Mitaka. Mitaka thinks that adding Kylo to their little group was a huge mistake since Kylo isn’t kind to him AT ALL. It just so happens that they go swimming together and after rough housing a bit around in the water Kylo almost ends up kissing Hux right there and then - only to hit his head after getting jostled by a stranger. He goes home angry because the moment was ruined for him. Phasma then gives him the tip to make the first move because she knows Hux won’t do it. Kylo then gives Hux an old-fashioned mix-tape which he at first doesn’t have time to listen to while Kylo stresses out over it. Hux then meets up with Phasma at her place to listen to the tape and they discover that instead of a bunch of emo music (as they thought it would be) it’s full of love songs with a message from Kylo at the end where he asks Hux if he wants to be his boyfriend.  They meet up aaaaaand are together from that point on. :) Which means they’re sticking together even more and are usually sucking face during break.There’re that disgustingly cute power couple who is cold to everyone else but sweet and tooth-achingly cute with each other.  Since they still sneak around quite a lot it just so happens that one day Han catches them and drives Hux home - even with Kylo begging him not to. That leads to Hux getting in a hell load of trouble with his parents. He then is missing from school for some days and only manages to sneak out once to meet Kylo and tell him about his parents’ plan to send him to a boarding school. He has quite the amount of bruises from his ‘discussion’ with his father about the entire thing with Kylo. :c They’re both anything but happy about it.  Even in boarding school, Hux and Kylo somewhat manage to stay in contact through phone calls. But since they miss him, Phasma, Mitaka and Kylo take Phasma’s family car, skip school and go to visit Hux. While he tries to hide it, it’s very obvious that Hux is unhappy at the school. Since Kylo has this entire emo look going on there’s a whole bunch of rumours about him afterwards. Thanks to the entire telephone game gossip system rumour has it that Hux dates a too-old guy with lots of piercings and tattoos.  When the principal wants to call Hux’s parents about it he does the only logical thing to a teenager and runs away. (Yeah, not a smart move from a smart person.) While Hux desperately tries not to get found he still stays in contact with Kylo. Of course the police finds him and there’s a scene where both Hux’s and Kylo’s parents are present and Kylo calls Hux’s father out on his abuse. The entire thing is resolved with Hux not having to stay at his parents’ place anymore and they somehow drag Luke into becoming Hux’s legal guardian. Because of all the pressure and everything he went through with his parents, the entire weight of it comes crushing down on Hux and he’s really nervous and messes up and generally fears that Luke might react just like his father. Which he really, really doesn’t. He helps Hux through this terrible time. It also leads to Kylo finally spend more time with his uncle again. Luke owns a kendo dojo where he trains mostly teenagers, among them also Rey. Kylo used to be his star pupil until he flunked out out of teenage hormonal bullshit rage. (He wasn’t that great at losing competitions.) Hux somehow persuades Kylo to pick it up again since it suits him really well as an outlet for his anger issues.  Time goes by and they have their first sexual experiences together. Usually whenever there’s no adult in the house because they find out quickly that Hux is rather vocal when he likes something (lol).  At the end of high school Hux pressures his parents to pay for his college education and he can get them to agree.

Unfortunately, Kylo and Hux go to different places and pretty far away from each other. They stay in contact but it’s not enough. Kylo tries visiting often and so does Hux but it takes a lot of time. One time Kylo tries to surprise Hux with a visit but he can only stay over night to sleep at Hux’s place and has to go the very next day. It’s not ideal. When Hux visits at Kylo’s uni, Kylo’s new ‘friends’ aren’t approving of him very much. They think Kylo needs ‘a real man’ and egg him on to go and find a new boyfriend. They’re assholes but for some reason Kylo doesn’t drop them.  It goes as bad as them getting Kylo drunk at a party and telling him he slept with someone since he woke up in another person’s bed (alone, but still). Kylo of course tells Hux about the story who isn’t .... all to happy about it. The relationship gets a bit strenuous over quite a while. That is until Kylo randomly runs into the person who’s party it was who then told him that Kylo pretty much occupied his bed and couldn’t be moved so he slept on the couch. Turns out, Kylo didn’t sleep with anyone. The entire experience with his asshole friends (who he finally drops) and the distance makes Kylo flunk college and eventually switch to a place that’s much closer to Hux’s uni.  They visit each other over the weekend and Hux actually becomes friends with Kylo’s new room mate since they’re into similar things. They even have the arrangement that when the room mate’s girlfriend visits Kylo would stay at Hux’s place.  After graduating Kylo takes over Luke’s dojo while Hux pursues a business career. They eventually marry. Hux has the nickname ‘general’ at his working place since he’s rather commanding and a no-nonsense kind of person. It’s only when his husbands visits at work that his colleagues and his subordinates see that he can actually be .... like a person. One time at a Christmas party someone even gets Kylo to talk about how he and Hux met.  Aaaand, that’s pretty much all of it. :) THE HS AU! 

Art Stuff:

The HS AU Tag Some actual plot stuff: Both are not so thrilled about their project assignment Hux gets soaked when he climbs the lattice to Kylo’s room and has to borrow a sweater Hux accidentally finds Kylo’s porn stash and his dildo Hux outs himself to Kylo (and tells him that he knows he’s gay too)

Kylo randomly remembers that Hux called him an ‘emo bitch’ once Kylo letting Hux stay with him even though they’re not quite friends yet Fic Stuff: The HS AU ‘series’ on AO3 (in which I put some short stuff on this AU that I write because I don’t think I’ll ever write the entire thing)