#completely decided i was never gonna try and. it just hasn't been on my mind in a while

[rachelazegler]

i think maybe it's not such a good thing that i've just totally shut myself off from the idea of dating at all because i thought it wasn't my thing. like maybe i should just be trying

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Poly!plastics x powerlifter!reader

Reader always wears baggy clothes and under that a very muscular gal and for some reason the plastics never put two together, so one day reader has to join in dodgeball in gym and their hoodie is making it hard to move so they take it off revealing their arms sculpted by Zues himself.

Heracles or Something

|| poly!plastics x powerlifter!nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; hints at later sex, plastics simping over reader, short drabble

|| Summary; when the plastics see reader in a t shirt for the first time, they lose their minds.

Requests open!

Started; November 9th

Finished; November 9th

~~~

It hasn't been too long since you started dating the plastics; so their reaction to your muscles makes absolute sense. Considering they've yet to see you without hoodies and sweats on. It was second period gym and Coach Carr decided that the class would play a game of dodgeball. Which was one of your favourites, you always went all out for this.

By sheer luck, you and your girlfriends all managed to be on the same team. Regina was absolutely demolishing everyone. She's terrifying to go up against in dodgeball. Gretchen was mostly either using you or Regina as a shield. While Karen kind of just stood there, making herself the easiest target in the world. You defended her though. Not wanting her to be one of the first ones out.

About half way through the game, you were finding it increasingly difficult to play with your hoodie on. It was getting beyond tiring having to move around in all that sweaty fabric. So you tossed it off, throwing it against the wall and doing a little arm stretch before returning to the game.

All three of your girlfriends got out in that same moment. Why? Their jaws were dropped and they couldn't pull their eyes away from you. Since when did their Y/N have insane muscles? Honestly, you looked as though Zeus himself made your body. It was Godly.

They weren't even mad they got out, just accepting their defeat. Because it gave them more time to admire you from the sidelines.

When the game was over, Regina was the first one to you in the locker room. Immediately pulling you into a kiss before you could sneak off to change in the bathroom. Because oh my God. You were even hotter now. Your lips moved against Regina's, she was being rough enough to get a moan out of you. Especially with how her nails had trailed along your arms. Practically tracing the tone outlines.

As the kiss broke, she cupped your cheeks and made you look into her eyes. With a desire you'd never seen in them before," my place. After school. I don't care if you have stuff to do." She stated, not leaving any room for an argument. You swallowed and nodded just as Gretchen and Karen joined the two of you.

"When were you gonna tell us?!" Gretchen exclaimed, leaving you pretty dumbfounded. Tell them what?

"Uh-?" You'd started to ask what she meant when Gretchen just rolled her eyes. Realizing you had no idea what she was talking about.

"Your muscles! You look like- I don't know, Heracles or something!" You burst out laughing at her explanation, cheeks flushed as you shook your head. Grinning from her flustered compliment.

"I try." You joked with a wink, meanwhile Karen. Had been completely distracted by your arms this entire time, eyes wide and mouth open.

When you noticed you gently closed her mouth for her, wiping away the drool with your thumb and kissing her cheek. "Hey, Earth to Karen."

She blinked when she heard her name," huh? Oh, yeah totally." You had no idea what she was responding to, even Gretchen just kinda shrugged at it.

Regina wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you against her and resting her head to your shoulder. "God... you're so hot." She couldn't get over your muscles, making you blush again as you leaned into her touch.

Definitely looking forward to tonight.

[softspokendove]

"Good Job Sweetheart"

pairings: bf!matt sturniolo x nerdy!reader

summary: matt decides to make his girlfriend feel good after she shows him she got an A+ on a test.

warnings: smut, blowjob f!receiving, nicknames (sweetheart, baby), fingering, praise kink, teasing, begging, reader is a bit shy and easy flustered, a little bit of overstimulation towards the end.

As you run through your boyfriend's house, completely oblivious to his two brothers watching tv in the living room, you speed past them and down the hallway towards your shared bedroom door. Your boyfriend's head shoots up at you excitedly pushing open the door and you run over jumping on top of him.

"I did it Matt! I aced the exam!" Matt furrows his eyebrows; his brain still hasn't caught up to speed. Instead, you push the exam paper in his hands, helping him figure it out. As his eyes scan over the page and the big letter A at the top of it a smile spreads on his face.

"Good job sweetheart, I knew you could do it." He sets down the paper on his side table and cups your face with both of his hands. He leans in giving you a passionate kiss in hopes of showing his approval. As he pulls back, he gives your now flushed face a once over, "So all that studying really paid off huh?"

You smile and nod your head as a response. You've been studying for endless nights trying to prepare for this exam, which your mind kept constantly telling you were gonna fail. Your boyfriend who knows how important school is to you, even tried to help you prepare. This consisted of you and Matt in the living room until 3 am reading post it cards until you soon fell asleep on his lap, completely exhausted.

You appreciated this about Matt. He knew how important this is to you, so he took time out of his day to help. He's never once complained about how much time you spend studying, if anything he just asks if you can do it in your shared bedroom so he can be near you.

"I'm so proud of you baby." Matt's words cause you to practically melt in his grasp. Matt knows all about how much you love receiving praise towards your accomplishments, especially from him. He finds it adorable how easily flustered and red you can get from it.

"Thank you." You smile once more at him before trying to get up off his lap, instead Matt's hands move to your hips and force you back down.

"How about I give you a reward for all your hard work?" He says it as a question.

"Like what?" Your obliviousness makes Matt smirk, and he leans towards you once again this time leaving small kisses along your neck. You gasp at the newfound sensation and subconsciously lean your head to the side to give him better access. Matt applies more pressure on his kisses, his hands roaming the sides of your body.

"You did so good on your test baby, you deserve to feel just as good." As his lips continue to attack your neck, your mind starts to become consumed by Matt and what he's doing. His hand wonders from your side down to your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You feel a sense of need gather lower and lower, causing you to softly grind on Matt's growing bulge in his pants.

"We can't. It'll be too loud." Your words come out breathless as you keep grinding on Matt, nowhere close to stopping. Matt knows that you're talking about his brothers being close to the other side of the wall, and your record of screaming while Matt has his way with you.

"Then you'll have to be quiet, can you do that for me?" Matt pulls away and looks you dead in eye, you're hesitant for a few seconds and then nod your head. A huge part of you knows that you can't keep quiet with Matt, it's impossible. But he already feels so good you don't want to end here. "That's my girl." Matt gives you one more appreciative kiss before setting you flat against the bed. He gets up to walk over to the door, closing and locking it.

As he returns, he climbs over you nudging your legs open with his knee to give him room. His lips connect with yours again, the kiss filled with love and passion. Matt's knee comes up and pushes against your clit, making you moan into his mouth. He swallows up your noises and slips his tongue into you. His tongue dancing with yours, both of your saliva's mixing up and creating a mess. His hand tilts your head to the side allowing him a better angle.

When he finally pulls away, you're both gasping for air. "Arms up." You lift up your arms and feel the warmth of your shirt leave your body as Matt throws the clothing across the room. He kisses a trail from your neck down to your boobs, leaving small bites here and there. His one hand lifts up your lower body as his other hand slides below you and unclasps your bra, this also getting thrown.

Matt takes one of your nipples into his mouth and sucks, swirling his tongue around the nub. He rubs your other boob in an effort to give them the same attention. Once he feels satisfied with one nipple he moves on to the other one, doing the same with his mouth. Your hand finds its way into his hair and gives a small tug which brings Matt to moan against you.

He lets go of your nipple with a pop and starts kissing your body again, this time getting lower and lower. You squirm in anticipation and whine, desperately needing Matt to touch you there. "Easy baby, this is all about you. I promise to make you feel good."

His words lead to another whine escaping your throat, "Matt please."

"Please what baby?" His tone is teasing. He knows what you want, he just loves hearing you say it.

"You know what." You huff out. This makes Matt chuckle and start to slide your pants slowly down your legs, too slowly for your liking.

"No, I don't think I do. Let me hear you say it." After your pants are completely gone from your body, you spread your legs wider for him, hoping he'd get the hint. Your cheeks red from embarrassment. Instead of understanding, Matt just slides his hands up and down your thighs. Inching so close to where you need him then quickly retreating.

You feel tears start to prick your eyes as the need for him becomes too much. Your whole-body craving Matt. Needing him to touch you anywhere and everywhere. Your pussy leaking out more slick just thinking about him. That proven to be true when Matt notices a dark patch on your panties, his mouth watering at the sight. "Please touch me," You reach out for one of Matt's hands and place it on the wet spot, "here. I need you so bad. Please."

Your words go straight to Matt's cock causing it to throb in his pants. There's just something about listening to you beg for him. Your words are like honey to his ears. "There you go baby; you sound so good." He leans down and places kisses on your clit, the action making your hips rise towards his mouth. His lips getting wet from your need.

He grabs your panties and slides them down your body, dropping them onto the floor. He places a hand on your hip holding you firmly in place. "You gotta be quiet, okay?"

"I promise." The words leave your mouth in a hurry, hoping to get him to work faster. He kisses your clit again, this time without a layer of clothing to get in the way. The new feeling making you grip onto his hair again.

He slides his tongue down your folds and then back up. His saliva and tongue feeling blissful against your pussy. He moans at the taste of you and slips his tongue inside your hole, hoping to taste more. This catches you by surprise and a small moan leaves your throat, you see Matt raise his eyebrows at you, warning you to stay true to your promise.

He swirls his tongue around inside of you, once again moaning at the flavor of you, his noises getting muffled against you. You hear the small noise of Matt's tongue gliding in your juices and the sound of him slurping as much as he can up. He takes his tongue out and slides it back up your pussy before swirling around your clit.

His lips then attach to your clit and suck while his tongue swirls in a circle around it. You bite your bottom lip trying to silent your moans. Matt's hand squeezes your flesh on your thigh and then moves his hand to your pussy. His middle finger circles around your clit, teasing you. You try to raise your hips to get it inside of you, but Matt's hand doesn't let you budge.

After Matt feels he's teased you enough he enters his finger into you at a slow pace. You sigh in relief his fingers start moving back and forth at a good pace. The pleasure you've been searching for finally here. You start to feel a sudden need to hold on to something-anything. One of your hands grips onto Matt's hair while the other holds onto the sheets, knuckles turning white from how hard you're gripping. Matt moans again at feeling a tug on his strands of hair, the noise vibrating against your pussy making it flutter.

This spurs Matt on, him feeling your pussy throb and tighten against him. His finger increases its pace, your juices starting to drip down you and onto the sheets. The overwhelming pleasure raking up your body and getting stuck in your throat, your moans and whimpers desperately wanting to get out.

It doesn't help when Matt adds his ring finger, filling you up. Your walls clench around his fingers, your body getting closer and closer. You move your hand that was gripping the sheets towards your mouth and try to muffle your moans with your hand.

The core in your lower belly keeps tightening. "Matt, I'm gonna cum." The words sound muffled, but Matt knew what you said. You look down and see Matt's blue eyes staring right back at yours, this being his favorite view. Your clit throbs in Matt's mouth at the sight.

Matt's tongue starts swirling letters, his name. You feel the motion of his tongue form the letters M-A-T-T and then repeating. Your eyes roll back into your head as your legs tighten around Matt's head. "Come on baby, cum on my tongue." Matt's voice sending you over the edge.

You scream into your hand as the bubble finally explodes, your walls throbbing around Matt's fingers. He removes his fingers from inside you and brings them up towards your mouth. You take away your hand and suck around his digits, tasting the proof of your beautiful orgasm. Matt hums in satisfaction as his tongue reenters inside of you tasting your cum for himself.

Your hips jerk in oversensitivity as his tongue continues to wiggle around inside your walls. "Matt too much." You try to move away but his hand pulls you right back. He ignores your comment and shoves his fingers further down your mouth towards your throat, igniting a gag from you.

When he pulls his fingers out, they're covered in your salvia which is then returned inside of you when Matt lifts his head up. "Give me one more sweetheart, wanna make sure you feel as good as you should."

You go to protest, but Matt just dives back down to your pussy, leaving no room for arguing.

a/n: holy. I had all of this written out a week ago but the last couple sentences. It took me so long to finish this for what.

[joyfulhottubfuntik]

Here is an idea for a GF fic that my friend and I came up with which I'm not sure I'm gonna do anything with.

***

Ford calls his mom shortly before a family reunion that he's not sure about attending (given that he usually doesn't). Caryn joyfully tells him that Stan, who no one's really heard from in a while, is also gonna be coming for the first time since he was kicked out. And Ford is... well, he doesn't know how to feel about it. If anything, he is surprised. The first time Stan didn't try reaching out on their birthday and then on other family holidays, he kinda saw it as confirmation that heis brother really didn't want to come back and apologize. Family reunions never felt the same afterwards, so Ford just stopped coming. Now though... well, it's just strange and very unexpected. But a small part of him that he desperately tries to push down is hopeful that maybe Stan will finally apologize and perhaps they will at least be on speaking terms again.

So, against better judgement, Ford does go. And Stan is there, just like his mom said he would be. He seems to be doing well for himself, just like Ford thought he would, exuding confidence and chatting with people. What's strange is that their father is one of those people. Because Stan has never been so calm when speaking to him, and it's unbelievable to see, especially after all that has happened. Their father seems to have picked up on the confidence, something that he's always wanted his sons to exhibit, so maybe that, along with how well off Stan seems to be, may explain his change of attitude. Stan, however...

Eventually, Ford finally talks to him. It starts with an apology, a surprisingly straightforward one too: no averted eyes or nervous hand movements, no hasty explanations or excuses. In a way, that's all Ford has wanted: a straightforward genuine apology, an admission of guilt. But somehow that also feels entirely wrong, like someone playing the part of his brother in a play, doing it well, but only as well as someone reading from a script could. That's when Ford gets the creeping thought that whatever's in front of him is something that's pretending to be his brother.

Of course, at first he tries to write it off as just him being paranoid, especially seeing how the rest of the family doesn't seem to think anything's off. And, after all, it has almost been ten years. But the more he watches, the more he notices the numerous small inconsistencies, like all the mannerisms he clearly remembers from years ago being completely gone.

At last, Ford can't bear it anymore, so he decides to use something that is extremely personal (and painful) to both of them: their childhood dream. He casually comes up to Stan and starts a conversation. Eventually, Ford brings it up and Stan's reaction is something along the lines of "Well, that was just stupid, wasn't it? I mean, it's a childish dream, something we did to pass the time, but it could never work. Sometimes you just have to outgrow things like that, you know. I wish I had just done it sooner, rather than later". And it's so utterly wrong it's straight up uncanny. Like, of course, Ford did choose to pursue his own aspirations instead. Maybe Stan could find other things to do too, that's believable. But this doesn't mean the dream no longer matters, and for Stan out of all the people to talk about it like it doesn't and hasn't ever...

So, right then and there, Ford decides that, whoever he is talking to is not his brother. And thus he sets out on a mission to find out whatever happened and, most importantly, where Stanley actually is.

***

Or alternatively, Stan somehow stumbles upon some sort of mind reading supernatural creatures who pretty much push him to make a wish. That wish is kinda contradictory in itself, more so two of his deep wants combined: Stan wants his family to accept him and love him again, but he also wants to stop being himself, Stanley Pines, the homeless grifter and the screw up.

The solution to this problem is: a sort of magical clone of Stan is created, which is designed to, while mainly relying on Stan's own memories, act in a way that will make the people he cares about like him. Overtime, the copy will correct its mistakes and become more and more like the real thing, and Stan will forget who he is, which would free him of all his regrets and let him begin life anew.

The flaw with all of that? Stan severely underestimated how much his twin actually cares and how much he's willing to do for him.

***

I have no idea how this would actually go or work and neither does my friend. A rescue mission, a lot of upsetting realizations, that's for sure. Anyway, I like this idea too much to just let it quietly perish in our imaginations. So I'm putting it into yours too lol

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #08 死

† chai †

"Sweetness doesn’t have a place in Jeon’s life, or at least it didn’t, until now. Because he’s been craving vanilla and cardamom and… chai? Hoseok is as annoying as always, and the fact that you may be at tonight’s celebration is… something he doesn’t quite know how to process."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 6.3k

rating: mature

content: snippet into jeon’s head, jeon’s POV, jeon being emo, sad vibes, insomnia, mental health issues, pills, suicide jokes, j-hope being a good friend and also a good doctor, celebrations, booze, female friendships, moon being surprisingly good at mixing drinks

☠ author's note ☠

I can literally HEAR all your "I can fix him" screams from here and honestly? SAME. I, too, want to fix the emotionally constipated sniper who probably sleeps with his combat boots on (￣ω￣)

Here's the thing—I started this whole endeavor thinking I'd stick strictly to the protagonist's POV. Very tunnel vision, very "we only know what she knows" vibes. But then Jeon's broody ass started living rent-free in my head and I was like... fuck, I want to show what's happening in that disaster brain of his too???

I'm sure you know the feeling. When reading, you just NEED to know what the hell is going on behind those cold eyes and that jaw that could cut glass. But it gets tricky, especially when you're trying to do this whole slow reveal thing without dumping too much info at once.

And trust me, the character of Jeon is like a cocktail made by a bartender who's having an existential crisis—way too many conflicting ingredients, definitely going to give you a hangover, but you're still going to drink it because you hate yourself. Or love pain. Or both.

So I decided to include snippets of his POV sometimes. It feels necessary—some conversations need to happen when our protagonist isn't there, and some emotional baggage needs unpacking for you readers to understand what's actually going on (like back in chapter 2 when we got that glimpse into his head).

Now, I'd love to ask for your opinion on this whole POV-switching business, but let's be real—this story is pretty much gonna be completed by the time you're reading this author's note. So... I'm just gonna trust my chaotic writer instincts on this one.

And if you don't like getting glimpses into Jeon's beautiful disaster of a mind? Well... you're gonna like it today anyway (•̀ᴗ•́)━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Jungkook doesn't do sweets. Never has.

His world operates in darker shades, tactical operations and precise calculations. Sweetness belongs to a different universe—one of bright colors and soft edges that he left behind long ago.

Sometimes a piece of candy appears in his pocket, usually after a meeting with JM who keeps bowls of them everywhere. He'll unwrap it absently, the crinkle of plastic echoing in his quiet office. Let it dissolve on his tongue while reviewing mission reports. The initial sweetness isn't unpleasant, stirring something old and forgotten in his chest.

But it never lasts.

The sugar becomes too much, coating his mouth like an unwelcome invasion. 

Cloying. 

Suffocating. 

He usually tosses the rest, wondering why he even bothered.

Lately though, something's changed. 

He finds himself reaching for vanilla cookies in the cafeteria. Ordering cardamom tea instead of his usual black coffee. Small impulses he can't explain, like his body's searching for something his mind hasn't caught up to yet.

And now?

Now the clock reads 4:16 AM. 

It's yet another night of minimal sleep—three and a half hours if he's being generous. The neon numbers mock him from his bedside table, surrounded by an array of pills that could probably tranquilize an elephant. 

All prescribed by J-Hope.

All increasingly useless.

Benzos. Narcotics. Nothing touches the corners of his insomnia anymore.

He's been fighting with his sheets for the past hour, tangled evidence of another failed attempt at rest. The black covers pool around his feet like spilled ink. His bedroom surrounds him in familiar darkness—walls painted to absorb light rather than reflect it, matching the void that lives behind his ribs.

The king-sized bed stretches out like empty territory, conquered by nothing but restless thoughts and the occasional phantom of memory. His room is a fortress built of clean lines and minimal decoration, a cell of his own design where even the shadows know better than to dance.

But lately, even this usually comforting solitude feels... different. Like something's missing. Something warm and sweet that he can't quite name.

Jungkook steps into the cold, the floor a shock against his bare feet. The shadows stretch across his bedroom, making the space feel hollow and vast at 4 AM. His movements are silent—years of training making even his insomnia graceful.

The lounge area of his wing feels abandoned. Empty sofas and tables wait like props on a stage, missing their usual cast of lieutenants and strategists. During the day, this space buzzes with mission plans and tactical discussions. Now it's just him and the quiet.

He closes the door to his wing, crossing into the neutral territory of the entrance hall. It's the DMZ between his domain and V's—a thought that makes his head hurt. Even at this hour, he can feel the shift in energy. 

V's presence lingers here like a bad taste.

The access card feels heavy in his hand. A small piece of tech that reminds him of his rank, his responsibilities. AD's security system responds with a soft beep, elevator doors sliding open on silent tracks. He steps in, presses the button for the common area. It's not his usual haunt—too exposed, too public—but lately he's been drawn there.

The descent gives him time to think. His mind drifts between fragments of nightmares and that strange, persistent craving for sweetness. It's been haunting him for weeks now, this urge for vanilla and cardamom. 

For chai and spices.

Maybe his brain is trying to balance out the bitterness that fills his days, or maybe he's finally losing it.

The elevator announces his arrival with a quiet ding. The corridor stretches before him, dark and empty. Somewhere down there is the snack area, and maybe, if he's lucky, a moment of peace.

He moves towards the corridor. Posters and artwork splash color across the cream walls—a jarring contrast to his stark quarters. He never quite understood the need for decoration, but the members insist on making the space "lived in." Whatever that means.

After 3 minutes, the common lounge sprawls before him, so different from his wing's militant precision. Here, rank means little. Divisions blur. The high ceiling should make the space feel cold, but somehow it doesn't. Maybe it's the worn leather sofas or the gaming consoles scattered about like abandoned toys. 

The air smells of polish and something unknown yet weirdly tranquil—comfort, maybe. 

He pushes that thought away.

Vending machines hum quietly in the snack area. Behind the glass, rows of sweets beckon. His eyes linger on a vanilla protein bar, then drift to some cardamom cookies. The craving hits again, piercing and mercilessly insistent.

But he's not alone.

AD slouches in a puff chair, bathed in the blue light of his game screen. His face twisted in its usual scowl, fingers jabbing at buttons with unnecessary force. 

The sight stirs something in Jungkook's chest—regret, maybe. 

Or guilt. 

Both emotions he'd rather not examine.

Their eyes meet. The air grows heavy. Unspoken words. Shared trauma.

The gaming console beeps softly. AD's character dies on screen. The silence that follows feels like an accusation.

Jungkook notes the way AD's blonde hair glints in the dim light as his eyes snap to Jungkook. His fingers still on the controller, body shifting into something more guarded, more alert. 

Jungkook feels his muscles tense automatically. The late-night sugar craving fades to background noise as AD's frosty stare pins him in place. 

Like a fucking needle cutting into skin. 

His hand hovers over the door handle, and he can't decide whether to stay or retreat. There's too much history here, too many buried regrets—and AD's presence brings it all rushing back—memories Jungkook would rather keep locked away with his other nightmares.

He immediately clocks the way AD's face contorts—sharp and bitter—and it makes Jungkook's chest tighten with familiar remorse. 

The younger man has never quite forgiven him. 

Probably never will.

Just as Jungkook decides to leave, to return to the safety of his isolation, AD's voice slices through the silence.

"No need for you to scurry off." The words barely mask the hostility underneath. "Was about to leave anyway."

Jungkook forces his shoulders to relax, though his jaw remains tight. Their paths cross rarely these days, and when they do, it's always like this—loaded silences and measured distance.

AD sets the controller down. Sharp. Angry. His movements are stiff as he rises, radiating enmity in waves that fill the common room. The scent of fresh lemons—AD's signature—grows stronger as he approaches.

But Jungkook doesn't move. 

Doesn't flinch. 

He deserves this, after all. This anger, this hostility, this remorse that reminds him of betrayals he can never make right.

The collision comes swift and deliberate—AD's shoulder slamming into his with force. The impact jolts through Jungkook's body, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the guilt that floods his system. His throat tightens with dusty apologies he knows AD would never accept.

He watches him stride away, the blonde's back rigid with years of accumulated anger. The sound of his footsteps fades down the corridor, leaving Jungkook alone with the quiet hum of the vending machines and his own thoughts.

There was a time when AD looked up to him, when their dynamic was different—better. Now all that remains is this bitter aftermath, this chasm Jungkook carved with his own choices. The memory of who they used to be makes the present cut deeper.

The gaming console's screen still glows, enhancing AD's absence in the empty chair he left behind. The 'GAME OVER' message blinks mockingly. Jungkook's fingers twitch, remembering late nights spent teaching AD new gaming strategies, back when trust wasn't such a foreign concept between them.

He should feel angry at the shoulder check; at the constant hostility that feels like a reprimand. 

But all he feels is hollow. 

Empty. 

Because how can he blame AD for hating him when he did this? When he destroyed something irreplaceable with decisions he can never take back?

He can't help but stare down the empty corridor where AD disappeared, the bitter taste of their encounter lingering longer than he'd like. His craving for sweetness feels almost desperate now—a childish attempt to wash away the guilt that gnaws at his chest.

His throat tightens. He swallows hard, trying to maintain the aloofness expected of Kkangpae's deadliest sniper. 

But it's hard, when AD's hostility has cracked something open inside him, letting old memories seep through like poison.

The vending machines hum quietly, offering a welcome distraction. He scans the selection without really seeing it, until—

Croissants.

Something shifts in his stomach at the sight of those packaged pastries. They're nothing like the fresh ones from the cafeteria, the ones you always grab during breakfast. Not that he's been watching. It's just that you're always there when he is, picking up one of those flaky pastries along with your coffee.

He's noticed, despite himself, how early you arrive to snag them before they run out. Same time as him, though his early mornings are spent running from nightmares rather than hunting down breakfast.

The memory of your routine feels oddly grounding after his encounter with AD. It's something simple, predictable. 

Unlike the mess of guilt and regret that follows him through these halls at night.

It's a strange comfort, this knowledge of your habits. 

One he doesn't understand.

One he probably doesn't deserve.

The scent of fresh lemons still lingers in the air, like a ghost of bridges burned and trust fractured. But as Jungkook stares at those artificially-made croissants, he finds himself thinking of chai tea instead.

He tears his gaze away, scanning other options until he spots a nutty protein bar. Practical. Sensible. The kind of choice the Chief of Tactical Assassinations should make. 

He jabs at the keypad hastily, and then, the machine whirs and drops his selection with a dull thud.

The wrapper crinkles in his grip as he retrieves it. Such a simple thing—choosing a late-night snack. No one gets hurt. No trust gets broken. No consequences ripple through the gang's hierarchy. 

Just him and a protein bar at 4 AM.

The common room feels different now that AD's gone. Quieter. Jungkook lets himself breathe, really breathe, for what feels like the first time since AD's shoulder slammed into his.

He should feel worse, probably. Should let the weight of past betrayals and broken friendships crush him like they usually do. But something about this moment—this stupid protein bar in his hand, the quiet of the room, the lingering thought of croissants and early mornings—makes everything feel a bit lighter.

His lips almost twitch into what could be a smile. It's weird, this tiny bubble of something in his chest. Almost like contentment. He doesn't examine it too closely, afraid it might shatter.

The corridors don't feel as suffocating as he makes his way back to his wing. The shadows seem less interested in reminding him of his sins. 

For now, in this small hour between night and dawn, he allows himself this moment of peace.

He probably doesn't deserve it. But for once, he takes it anyway.

Jungkook stares at his lunch without really seeing it. 

The cafeteria bustles around him, but he's carved out his own bubble of silence at the far end of a long table. It's better this way—no small talk, no pretending to care about division gossip.

His chopsticks push a piece of fish back and forth across his plate. The encounter with AD keeps replaying in his mind, each memory tasting bitter like the coffee he's been nursing for the past hour. Some wounds, he's learning, don't heal with time. They just scab over, waiting to be picked open again.

And then, a tray clatters across from him. 

J-Hope drops into the seat, his white medical coat slightly rumpled from what's probably been a busy morning in the infirmary. The doctor's eyes scan Jungkook's face with scrutiny, his mouth pulling into that familiar worried frown.

"You look like shit," J-Hope announces, ever the picture of bedside manner. "Two hours of sleep? Maybe less?"

Jungkook shrugs, still focused on mutilating his fish. "Don't count anymore."

"Those new meds I gave you—" J-Hope starts, unwrapping his sandwich with more force than necessary. "You're actually taking them, right?"

"They don't work." The words come out flat. "Nothing does."

"Jesus christ," J-Hope mumbles through a bite of sandwich. "Have you tried, I don't know, taking them before you spend six hours staring at your ceiling? Maybe with some tea?"

The concern in J-Hope's voice makes something twist in Jungkook's chest. 

He doesn't deserve this—the worry, the care, any of it. 

Not after everything. 

But J-Hope is one of the few people who still treats him like a person rather than a cautionary tale, so he tries to sound less dismissive when he responds.

"I don't need a lesson on how to take pills. They just don't work for me."

The doctor sets his sandwich down, eyebrows pulling together. A bit of lettuce falls out. "Look, I know you've built up tolerance, but we need to find something that works. You can't keep going like this."

"I'm fine." He's not, but he doesn't truly care. "Function better on less sleep anyway. More efficient."

"That's bullshit and you know it." J-Hope's voice rises slightly, anger seeping through. "You think I can't see what this is doing to you? The mood swings? The isolation? This isn't healthy, Jungkook."

Jungkook flinches at the use of his real name. "I don't need a lecture. I'm handling it."

"Oh yeah, real healthy coping strategy." J-Hope's scoff holds more concern than mockery. "Just pretend everything's fine while you run yourself into the ground."

Exhaustion weighs heavy on Jungkook's bones. Three hours of sleep and memories of AD's hostility from last night make his tongue looser than usual. "Maybe you should prescribe me your finest benzos. Let me wash them down with vodka. That ought to do the trick."

The slam of J-Hope's palm against the table makes the silverware jump. Several heads turn their way, but Jungkook can't bring himself to care. 

"If you want to kill yourself," J-Hope's voice is deadly quiet, trembling with rage, "don't you dare make it my prescription."

The cafeteria suddenly feels too small, too crowded. J-Hope's worry tastes bitter in the back of Jungkook's throat, mixing with guilt he doesn't have the energy to process. He shouldn't have said that—shouldn't have joked about something so dark. But three hours of sleep and a lifetime of regrets make it hard to care about much of anything anymore.

Silence stretches between them. Jungkook stares at his mangled fish, not really eating anymore. He knows what's coming—J-Hope never could leave well enough alone.

The doctor's voice softens, trying a different approach. "Have you considered meditation? Or maybe some calming music? I know a sleep therapist who—"

"I don't need a damn therapist." Jungkook's tongue plays with his lip ring, a nervous habit he can't shake. 

The metal tastes bitter, or maybe that's just the exhaustion talking.

Because J-Hope is wrong. Therapy won't fix this. Pills won't fix this. Nothing can erase what happened, what he let happen. Some stains don't wash out, no matter how hard you scrub.

"Look, Jungkook." J-Hope uses his real name again, and his throat constricts uncontrollably. "Ever since what happened with—"

"Don't." The word comes out sharp enough to cut.

J-Hope holds his gaze, unflinching. "You can't keep punishing yourself forever."

"I'm not discussing this." His voice turns to steel, matching the cold weight that's made a home in his chest.

Another sigh from J-Hope as he leans back. "Fine. But you know where to find me when you're ready to actually try and fix this."

Jungkook's jaw clenches so hard it hurts, a muscle jumping under his skin. But he stays quiet. What's the point of arguing when J-Hope doesn't understand? 

Some things aren't meant to be fixed. 

Some people don't deserve to be.

Jungkook pushes his half-eaten lunch away with a tired sigh. He can feel it coming—the same conversation they have every year.

"So," J-Hope starts, right on cue. "Making an appearance tonight or pulling your usual disappearing act?" He peers at Jungkook over his coffee mug, eyes too knowing for comfort.

"Haven't decided." The words come out clipped, because he feels already exhausted by the mere thought of socializing.

"You should come." J-Hope takes a careful sip. "Might help to interact with actual humans instead of just your rifle for a change."

"I interact plenty." It sounds defensive even to his own ears.

"Glaring at people from across the room doesn't count as interaction." J-Hope's voice is dry as desert sand. "Neither does grunting one-word responses."

Jungkook's tongue finds his lip ring, playing with it absently. "It's just a casual thing. Not mandatory."

"Right, just our leader's rise to power celebration. Totally insignificant." The doctor's sarcasm could cut glass. "Definitely not something a Council member should show face at."

"RM himself said it's not formal." 

"Maybe not officially. But you know what it means to everyone else. Especially the newer ones—shows them what we're about, what matters to us."

Newer ones. The words make him hold his breath. He thinks of Yunjin's bright enthusiasm, of your sharp wit. Of how you'll probably be there tonight.

The thought doesn't help him decide whether he wants to go more, or run faster in the opposite direction.

"You seem perfectly capable of handling traditions without me."

"For fuck's sake, Jungkook." The doctor's frustration bleeds through. "This isn't about tradition. It's about you actually being part of the team for once. Don't you ever get tired of the whole lone wolf act?"

Something bitter rises in Jungkook's throat. His tongue presses against his cheek—a habit from childhood he never quite shook.

Silence. He takes a slow breath, measuring his words. 

"I'll think about showing up."

It's not a yes, but J-Hope takes what he can get. The doctor's shoulders relax slightly as he leans back, apparently satisfied with even this crumb of compliance.

"Got patients waiting," J-Hope says, collecting his things. The coffee mug scrapes against the tray. "Try to sleep before tonight, yeah?"

Jungkook makes a noncommittal sound, already drifting into thoughts of empty corridors and quiet corners where he won't have to pretend to be social. Where he won't have to see AD's hatred or V's cruel smile. Where he won't have to watch you move through the crowd, chai-scented and d̶i̶s̶t̶r̶a̶c̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ irrelevant.

J-Hope's footsteps fade into the cafeteria buzz, leaving Jungkook alone with his cold coffee and colder thoughts. 

Another conversation that changes nothing, fixes nothing.

Just like everything else in his life.

"What?"

The word tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it. 

Smooth, real smooth.

Chaewon snorts, eyes crinkling. "Right, keep forgetting you're still a baby gang member. Tonight's the whole 'RM took over this shitshow' party."

You frown, because seriously? Four months in and you're just now hearing about this? Some Seduction Division recruit you are.

"It's not a big deal," Chaewon adds, probably seeing the confusion on your face. "RM didn't even start it. We just got drunk on the first anniversary and now it's a thing."

Eunchae pops her head between you and Chaewon, her light brown hair tickling your cheek. "Plus, you know. Give gang members an excuse to drink and we'll run with it."

You lean back against the couch, letting your head fall back softly. 

Great. 

Another Kkangpae tradition you and Yunjin missed the memo on. At this rate, you'll still be the clueless newbies when you're both grey and wrinkled.

"So what, we just show up and get wasted?" you ask, trying to sound casual. Like you're not low-key freaking out about what to wear or how to act around the higher-ups when they're three sheets to the wind.

Chaewon shrugs, picking at her nails. "Pretty much. Some people get all fancy, others come in sweatpants. It's not like RM gives a shit either way."

A flash of bubblegum pink catches your eye. Yunjin shuffles in, hair wrapped in a towel and dripping onto her shoulders. Perfect timing, as always.

"Did someone say alcohol?" She plops down on the sofa arm, water droplets flying everywhere. "Because I'm not playing nurse again tonight."

"That was one time!" Eunchae's voice pitches up in defense. "And that mark needed me to drink!"

Kazuha snorts. "You could've said no."

"To free drinks?" Eunchae spins around, hand on her chest like she's been mortally wounded. "In this economy?"

"She's got a point," Sakura drawls from her sprawl across the couch. Her long legs dangle over the armrest, taking up way too much space.

Yunjin tugs at her towel, rolling her eyes. "Well, don't come crying to me when you're hugging the toilet later."

You can't help but laugh. These idiots are really your team now. "I take it parties get pretty wild around here?"

"Oh honey." Kazuha's lips twitch. "There's a reason strip poker got banned."

"I'm sorry, what?" Your eyes go wide. Because what.

"It was brief but iconic." Eunchae grins, nudging your shoulder. "Sakura tried to slide across a table."

"And I would've made it!" Sakura calls out, not even bothering to lift her head. "That loose board was sabotage, I swear."

"Sure, blame the table." Eunchae turns to you with a conspiratorial wink. "Just wait till you see what happens when someone breaks out the tequila."

You raise an eyebrow, already mentally noting which Council members to avoid when the drinks start flowing. 

"Thanks for the warning. I'll stay away from any furniture surfing attempts."

Your teammates' laughter fills the room, and something warm blooms in your chest. It's weird how these chaotic idiots have become your f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶y̶ friends in just four months.

Chaewon leans back, crossing her legs. "Tonight's pretty chill though. Eat, drink, try not to pass out in a bush somewhere."

"Now that's what I'm talking about." Eunchae bounces in her seat like an overexcited golden retriever.

"Open field, 8 PM." Chaewon's voice shifts into what you've dubbed her 'mom tone.' "We're doing BBQ, and there'll be enough booze to knock out a small army. Wear whatever, but bundle up—it gets cold as balls out there."

"That's two hours from now!" Eunchae flops dramatically across the couch. "Two whole hours. I'm starving now."

"Is food literally all you think about?" Kazuha rolls her eyes, but there's fondness in her tone.

"I could think about other things." Eunchae wiggles her eyebrows. "But food's never disappointed me like men do."

You snort at that. She's not wrong. In your four months here, you've learned (mostly from Yunjin's gossip) that Kkangpae men are like a box of chocolates—mostly bitter, occasionally nutty, and always complicated.

The girls dissolve into giggles again, and you find yourself joining in. Maybe it's the promise of alcohol, or maybe it's just the way these dorks make even a deadly criminal organization feel weirdly homey, but you're actually looking forward to tonight.

God help you.

It's 8:10 PM when you finally head out. You went with comfy over fancy—oversized grey hoodie over a white turtleneck, because fuck freezing to death. The thermal lining is probably the best purchase you've made since joining Kkangpae. That, and these loose jeans that actually have functional pockets.

A flash of pink appears in your peripheral vision before Yunjin loops her arm through yours, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

"Aren't you excited?" She bounces on her toes like a kid with a sugar rush. "I heard these parties are insane!"

You can't help but laugh. Her enthusiasm is s̶w̶e̶e̶t̶ infectious. But the elevator dings before you can respond, doors sliding open to reveal—oh.

V lounges inside, arm draped over JM's shoulders like the Finance Chief is his personal armrest. JM seems unbothered, wearing that patient smile he gets when dealing with V's... everything. His salmon-colored hair looks soft under the elevator lights.

"Ladiessssss!" V draws out the word like he's auditioning for Parseltongue lessons. He shifts to make room, though his arm stays firmly around JM. "Coming to party with us common folk?"

"Free food's free food." You shrug, stepping in beside Yunjin who's still clinging to your arm.

She giggles at your response, squeezing your arm tighter. You catch JM's eye and nod—proper respect for a Council member and all that. He returns it with a warm smile that makes his eyes crinkle behind his round glasses.

The elevator feels smaller with four people, especially when one of them is V taking up space like it's his job. But hey, at least it's not AD. Or worse, J̶e̶o̶n̶ certain other Council members.

"Evening, JM." You smile at him, because it's hard not to. His aura always feels like a warm blanket—the complete opposite of V's chaotic energy.

"Good evening." JM's voice is soft, gentle. "I hope the night finds you well."

"What is this, fucking Shakespeare?" V waves his hand dismissively. "Save the fancy talk for business hours. Tonight's for getting wasted and making bad decisions. Luckily we will be free of certain judgemental stares."

"V." JM's warning comes with a poorly hidden smile.

"What? Just saying what everyone thinks." V grins, all teeth. "Not my fault someone walks around like they've got a steel rod up their ass."

"Pretty sure that's just the natural reaction to dealing with you for years." The words slip out before you can stop them.

"Wow. Wow." V pretends you've stabbed him in the chest. "Already picking sides? And here I thought we were gonna be besties."

You roll your eyes. "Not picking sides. Just speaking from personal experience."

"Brief experience," he corrects, wagging a finger at you. "You haven't seen all my charms yet. I grow on people, like mold."

"That's... not the selling point you think it is."

Finally the metallic doors open to the ground floor. Through the glass gates, you can see the open field where everyone's gathering. The sky's already dark, stars peeking through like tiny paint droplets.

Here goes nothing.

The field buzzes with activity, gang members scattered around like the stars peppered across the night sky. A bonfire crackles in the middle, throwing warm light over everyone's faces. The smell of BBQ makes your stomach growl—you haven't eaten since lunch.

RM's white hair catches the firelight, making him look almost ethereal. It's weird seeing him like this, gesturing animatedly as he talks. The fearsome leader of Kkangpae, actually laughing. Who knew?

Moon hovers by the drinks, playing bartender—although still maintaining his usual polite efficiency. Though tonight his smile seems more genuine, less 'I'm being nice because I'm your superior' and more 'want another beer?'

Jessi and Chaewon huddle together near the fire, probably plotting world domination or sharing gossip. The flames dance in Jessi's red hair while Chaewon leans in close, looking more relaxed than you've ever seen her during training.

V drags JM toward the grill, still attached to him like a very loud, very clingy octopus. "Make way for the master chefs!" he hollers, making JM shake his head with fond exasperation.

Your eyes scan the crowd before you can stop yourself. Looking for broad shoulders in black leather, for silver piercings catching firelight. For that scent of pine and wood that's become way too f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶i̶a̶r̶ noticeable lately.

But Jeon isn't here.

You feel something waver in your chest—disappointment maybe, or just hunger. 

Yeah, definitely hunger. 

You push the thought away and focus on the party. There's food and alcohol and your friends are here. That's what matters.

Yunjin tugs you toward the bonfire, and god, the warmth feels good after the castle's perpetual AC chill. It's weird seeing everyone so relaxed—like someone hit pause on all the gang politics and murder plots for one night.

You sink onto a log bench, letting the fire chase away the evening cold. The flames bathe everyone in soft gold, making even the most hardened killers look almost n̶i̶c̶e̶ normal for once.

J-Hope appears through the crowd like a ghost in his white medical coat, looking like he's about to collapse. The bags under his eyes have bags of their own, but he's still got that manic energy that keeps him running on fumes and spite.

He drops onto the bench nearby with a groan that sounds like his soul trying to escape. The scent of sandalwood follows him, mixing with woodsmoke.

"Rough day?" you ask, eyeing his very out-of-place doctor getup.

His laugh comes out more like a wheeze. "You could say that." He waves vaguely at his coat. "Didn't exactly get a wardrobe change break."

Yunjin giggles beside you, still clutching your arm like a pink-haired koala.

Your eyes scan the crowd again, definitely not looking for anyone s̶p̶e̶c̶i̶f̶i̶c̶ particular. "Where's the rest of the Council?"

"Well," J-Hope snorts, "AD's busy losing at League of Legends. Says he'll grace us with his presence when he's done raging at his screen."

"And Jeon?" The question slips out. Smooth. 

J-Hope answers your question with a nod toward the field entrance. Your eyes follow and—oh.

Jeon strides in with Takama, both of them loaded down with enough meat to feed a small country. The firelight catches on his silver piercings, and fuck, he shouldn't look this good just carrying groceries. Your heart does that stupid little skip thing it's been doing lately whenever he's around.

But it's like... something's different about him tonight. The usual ice-prince vibe is dialed down a notch, replaced by something almost... approachable.

Unapproachably approachable.

Takama actually has him engaged in conversation—a miracle in itself. His shaved head immediately grabs your attention as he says something that makes Jeon relax slightly.

They drop the meat by the grill, and you notice how Jeon's eyes sweep across the crowd. It's quick, casual, but you catch it anyway. There's something searching in his gaze, like he's looking for... well. Probably just checking the perimeter or whatever security shit he does.

You turn back to J-Hope, trying to ignore the warmth in your cheeks. "Even party night comes with duties, huh?"

"That's Kkangpae for you." J-Hope's voice carries a touch of dry humor. "We don't do proper days off here."

He's right. Even now, surrounded by laughter and firelight and the promise of good food, you're all still playing your parts. Though watching Jeon handle those heavy bags like they're nothing makes you think some roles aren't so bad to watch.

Get it together. 

You sink deeper into the bench, letting the bonfire's warmth seep into your bones. The sound of laughter and sizzling meat hovers around you; everyone's guard lowered just a fraction under the stars.

Takama then leads Jeon toward the fire, some members sprawled out on the grass around them like lazy cats. The deputy's eyes find yours, his smile genuine—a rare sight in your line of work.

"Ankle doing better?" he asks, and you're touched he remembers.

"All healed up, thanks." You return his smile, because Takama's one of the few higher-ups who actually seems to give a shit about the recruits.

Jeon just nods at you, dark eyes meeting yours for a split second before sliding away. You're starting to notice is his thing—minimal effort, maximum impact. Your skin prickles despite the fire's heat.

The conversation naturally flows around you, mission stories and inside jokes mixing seamlessly even between different divisions. You half-listen, too aware of Jeon's presence at the edge of the group. He pulls out his cigarettes with those r̶i̶d̶i̶c̶u̶l̶o̶u̶s��l̶y̶ ̶n̶i̶c̶e̶ steady hands, placing one between his pierced lips in a way that makes your mouth go dry.

But before he can light up, J-Hope shoots him a look that could freeze hell. Some silent doctor-patient communication passes between them, and Jeon clicks his tongue, shoving the cigarette back in its pack. Frustration flashes across his face before he quickly shoves it down. 

But you catch yourself studying him—the way his fingers fidget with the lighter he can't use, how his jaw clenches when he's annoyed. Little details that paint a picture of the man behind the cold exterior. 

Not that you're paying special attention or anything.

Moon's got a nice little bar setup going by the drinks station. You could use something to take the edge off this weird night. So you stand up, already missing the bonfire's warmth whilst stretching your arms above your head.

"Getting drinks," you tell Yunjin, who's deep in conversation with some other recruits. "Want anything?"

Her eyes light up. "Beer, please!"

You glance at Takama, still chatting with his boss. "Beer run. You in?"

"That'd be great, thanks." His smile is genuinely warm.

You look at the doctor—J-Hope's been quiet, watching everything with those too-observant eyes—and ask him too. 

"Can I grab you something?"

"I don't drink." His tone is light but final. Like a door closing.

You nod, not pushing it. Your eyes drift to Jeon last, catching him staring into the flames like they hold all life's answers. He meets your gaze for a second, and you'd swear something unreadable flickering across his face before he looks away.

"Whisky on the rocks," he mutters, barely audible over the crackling fire.

You bite back a smile. Of course he drinks whisky. Probably the expensive kind too, the pretentious a̶s̶s̶h̶o̶l̶e̶ guy.

Moon's showing off his bartending skills to an impressed crowd when you approach. Time to see if the Deputy Commander makes drinks as precisely as he runs operations.

His back is turned to you as you approach, mixing something that probably has enough alcohol to knock out a horse. But he moves confidently, like he's done this a thousand times before.

When he finally finishes serving another member, you step up. His serious bartender face melts into something more welcoming.

"What can I get you?" He wipes his hands on a towel, all proper and polite as usual.

"Vodka lemonade for me," you say. "Plus whisky on the rocks and two beers for the others."

He nods, already reaching for bottles. "Coming right up."

You watch him work, impressed despite yourself. "Where'd you learn all this fancy mixing stuff?"

"Been around a while," he chuckles, measuring vodka into a shaker. "It's useful—nothing settles gang politics like a good drink."

"You're really good at this," you say, leaning against the counter. "Like, seriously good."

His hands pause for a split second. A small smile tugs at his lips. 

"Thanks. It's an old passion. Actually wanted to open my own bar once—somewhere quiet, away from all..." He gestures vaguely at the chaos around you.

"That's... not what I expected." You watch him pour whisky over ice with perfect precision. 

"Life's funny that way." He slices a lemon expertly. "We all had different plans before this. Different dreams. But here we are."

Something in his voice makes you pause—because yeah, it's so easy to forget sometimes that everyone here has a story, a before. Even Moon, with his perfect posture and formal suits, had different dreams once.

The thought sits heavy in your chest as he lines up your drinks. You wonder what dreams everyone else gave up to end up here, in a criminal organization's makeshift bar under the stars.

"What about you?" Moon asks, stirring your drink now. "Got any derailed dreams?"

You consider the question, because it feels surreal to be having this kind of talk with the Deputy Commander—usually conversations here stick to missions and murder plots.

"Pretty sure we all left something behind when we joined." The words come out slower than intended. "Different paths all leading to the same fucked up destination, right?"

Moon hands you the drinks, and his expression is softer. "That's gang life for you. Trade in your old self, get a new family and some trauma in return."

"Any regrets?"

He gets this far-away look, like he's seeing something beyond the makeshift bar. Then he shakes his head. 

"Made my choice. Even the darkest paths have their bright spots."

You take the drinks, mentally filing away this unexpectedly deep conversation with Kkangpae's second-in-command. Who knew he had a philosophical side under all that formality?

"Thanks for the drinks. And the..." You gesture vaguely with your chin, since your hands are full. "This whole thing."

His smile actually reaches his eyes this time. "Anytime. Now go before those drinks get warm."

"You joining us later?"

"Once dinner's ready." He's already turning to help another member.

You nod, somehow managing to stuff the beer cans in your hoodie pocket while balancing two glasses. The bonfire calls you back, its warmth promising more interesting conversations ahead.

Though probably none as surprising as this one.

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© jungkoode 2025

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[kaliforniahigh]

slow down, you're doing fine - n.s.

In honor of fluffy friday and Noah being back on stage this weekend, I decided to write this ball of fluff. Hope you guys enjoy it!

You can listen to Vienna by Billy Joel to get in the mood if you'd like. This song never fails to bring tears to my eyes and I feel like it goes with the fic.

Warnings: Noah is a little sad, mentions of insomnia, a little self-deprecation but it all ends well.

WC: 923.

Request something for fluffy friday!!!

You and Noah were roomates, and it wasn't atypical for you guys to knock on each other's door and slip into their room when one of you was having a particularly rough night, or when you couldn't sleep and just needed someone to chat with. Even though you did it way more often than Noah, there were still times he seeked your comfort.

You usually could tell when this was gonna happen. As much as he liked to think he could hide his feelings, you could always tell when he was having a hard time. In the hustle and bustle of preparing themselves to perform at Upheaval and Inkcarceration this weekend, you could tell something was plaguing his mind.

You knew he felt guilty about cancelling the other dates, even if you reassured him a thousand times that his health always comes first. You waited for him to say something, knowing if you confronted him about it, he would close himself off and say that everything is ok.

So when you laid down on your bed to sleep tonight, you waited for the soft knock and your door to open and reveal his figure coming into your room. But as you tried to keep yourself awake, you realized that it might not happen tonight, so you closed your eyes and opted to sleep instead.

A couple of hours later, you were awoken by a soft shake of your shoulders, and whispers of someone calling your name. Opening your eyes slowly, it didn't take much to adjust, since the room was still dark. But you could make out Noah's sillouete in the shadows.

"Hi. What's wrong?", you asked him, still a little groggy from sleep.

"Can I sleep here?", he asked in a small voice, resembling a child waking up their parents to tell them they were scared of the dark. Noah wasn't a child anymore, but you could tell he was scared of something.

Not answering verbally, you just scooched over to the other side of the bed, lifting your comforter for him so slip under. He instantly curled into himself facing towards you. You gently ran your hand through his hair. You waited for him to make the first move, to tell you what was plaguing his mind. But even if he just wanted you to hold him, that's what you were gonna do.

"I just feel so scared", he admitted, with a shaky voice.

"Scared of what?", you kept your voice quiet, as if afraid to scare him away.

"It's just been so long since we've performed. What if I'm shit? What if people boo me for what I did? What if I don't sound right?"

You silently shushed him, stopping his rambling and self-deprecation. "It hasn't been that long and you didn't do anything, it was a mutual decision", you pointed out, trying to get him to reason. You knew he always carried the weight on his shoulders, even if the other boys were completely ok with the decision.

"I know, but stil", you felt him fumbling with his hands, picking a nail here and there, showing you just how nervous he was about this.

"And if people boo you, I'll come out from the side stage and tell them to fuck off", you looked down and saw a hint of a smile on his face. You tapped the top of his head twice, a signal for him to look at you, as you continued "you're an amazing artist. And this rough patch does not define your career from now on. You were born for this, you just needed a little break to remind yourself how much you love doing what you do", you could sense you were getting through to him a little bit, by the way his body seemed to relax and his hands were no longer tied together in an act of restlessness.

"And if this weekend, you get up on that stage and you still don't feel comfortable being there, you're gonna take another 10 or 12 months. You're supposed to enjoy it, and if you don't, there is still some work to do", you paused, giving him the space to talk if he needed.

"I feel ready, I just feel nervous about how things are gonna go", he kept his eyes on yours, now feeling more confident to make eye contact.

"You don't have complete control over everything that happens during the show, so don't worry your pretty little head about things that are out of your control. Besides, you trust Matt and everyone else, right?" he firmly nodded, confirming what you already knew. "And you promise me you're gonna tell me if you still don't feel ok when the show ends?"

"I promise", you knew he meant it by the look in his eyes, that were now a little bit droopy with tiredness. You guessed he kept turning in bed, restless, until he decided to come to your room.

"Do you wanna sleep or do you wanna keep talking? I'll let you pick the subject", you wanted to give him a choice, just in case he didn't feel ready to slip into his mind yet.

"I feel like I'm ready to sleep now. I actually feel kind of tired", he gave a small smile, but one you welcomed anyway.

"That's good. Let's sleep then"

You got yourselves comfortable, and in a few minutes, you could hear his steady breathing hitting your clavicle, and you let yourself slip under the cover of sleep with him.

At first, I wanted to write about reader taking refuge in Noah's room. But after thinking about it a little more, I decided to write it the other way around. There is just something about men being vulnerable that pulls on my heartstrings.

I hope everything goes well for everyone attending the festivals this weekend. I hope y'all have so much fun. Stay safe and enjoy!!!

[whisperwritingstuff]

after the hurty bit of what-if hfs e/l earlier, we figured y'all can have a lil treat. a not-so-lil treat. a large chunk of treat. the next bit of @varanere00 and myself continuing to write that main hfs e/l scene! more doc! way Way more horny! cub checkup hours!

content warning for some medical wound treatment kink happening in this one, it gets a lil intense. everyone involved is into it tho.

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Cub is fully engrossed in diagnostics of his internal systems, plugged into a laptop that's been air gapped for safety. Just in case someone somehow uploaded malware onto him. It's so unlikely it'll probably never happen throughout his lifetime, especially if he keeps up his powers farce, but it pays to be safe.

So when Doc comes in he doesn't notice until he's bodily picked up and set on a creeper back, carried off to the lab.

"The movement interfaces are fully functional, as are the phase controls." Cub reports, without so much as a how do you do or welcome back, not that Doc is expecting those. "They send back clean diagnostic reports, I've copied them out." Cub doesn't bother passing the usb, just sweeps Docs hair aside and plugs it right into the port. First try, nice.

"The entire sensory interface and processing systems will have to be reworked though, completely borked up. Completely borked up."

"Let me see that." Now in the lab, Doc sets him down on a chair, taking the laptop out of his hands.

Cub sits himself sideways on the chair, so his wings don't press into the back of it. He takes a moment to breathe and assess the room. No signs of further operation, and the lab hasn't been trashed. So. That's good.

Questions press against the back of Cub's teeth as he glances over at Doc, but he knows Doc won't answer any of them. Shouldn't answer any of them. If Doc answered them to Cub about someone else, then he could answer to someone else about Cub. It's not worth breaching that hard line. So Cub swallows his questions back down and focuses on himself.

"Sorry for the early house call." Cub says, only just remembering this late that maybe manners would be an appropriate thing to have here. He doesn't regret calling Doc over, but that's the right part of his script for smoother peopling. And he doesn't want Doc getting fed up with being bothered. Hopefully the work is interesting enough to be worth it. Cub thinks it is.

"It's fine." Doc waves off. Cub tries to sit still. To let Doc do his thing and figure out what's wrong.

Doc must have noticed his fidgeting, because he looks up from where he's focused on the laptop.

"I can tell you that what you did helped. And he will want to talk. He has questions for you. He seems to trust me a bit more now." Cub feels so much more tension than he knew he was holding leave his body, when Doc tells him, as much as he can, that Hotguy is fine. Will be fine. Cub's not too concerned with those details. He helped, that's enough for him right now.

"Can you give me a full rundown of what happened? Doc asks, turning back to the laptop.

Full rundown. Okay. Okay. Cub can do that. He takes a couple minutes to gather his thoughts, putting all of them into order and checking them over before he begins speaking.

"I went out for a heist yesterday. Ran into Hotguy, as planned. Musta been an off day, because he got a cuff on me. So I put the other end of it on the nearest thing that wasn't my other wrist, on instinct. Which turned out to be him. Turned out to be him." Hard to believe all this mess was started by his own snap decision to link Hotguy to himself during that fight.

"Did a bunch of running and some falling, but he was still gonna try to turn me in, so I put a dud collar on him to get him to come here." Cub pushes the thought of how sweetly Hotguy had melted in his arms when he'd done so out of his mind.

"Got the cuffs off in my lab, but he bit me when I went to take the collar off. Something's not right there. Decided to give him some space instead, and he wrecked up the place." Cub still doesn't get why Hotguy had done that. Had he figured out about the collar? That he's not bound to passivity right now? He seems to have forgotten again, if so.

"I got him out and treated him, and put him to bed. In the morning, he took advantage of me sleeping to get his hands on my wings." Cub tries to think of that as his heroic foe seeking weakness, but all he can remember is lightning arcing over and bridging between his nerves, dancing right along the edge of worldshattering pleasure and mindcrushing pain.

"Some kind of electricity hit them, I think? Maybe residual from me being on my charger? And ever since them my whole system has been on the fritz. On the fritz. Been trying to treat him and myself, until the errors were too much to handle alone and I called you in." Cub flexes his hand, trying to work the feeling of dripping, sizzling acid out of all the tingling nerves there. Cub hopes that was everything, his brain still feels a little less than peak performance.

"Electricity hit? While he was touching them? Where and how? Also were you still on the charger when that happened?" Doc seems done with the laptop for now, though Cub can feel the pulling sensation of a full data backup being downloaded.

"He was running his fingers over them. Or maybe his fingernails? A bit like he was petting them, I think." It's hard to remember between the sleep, the pleasure-pain, and the dizzying shock and reboot that followed. Right, the reboot.

"We were still on my bed, though I was fully charged at that point. There was some kind of static tingle building, and then I got zapped. Took me a moment, but I managed to reboot my systems right after that." The download tug stops. Cub never really carries much data in his implants, unlike Doc, who at all times seems to have several dozen tabs open on them as well as several terabytes of data saved. In addition to his uplink to his home system.

"Alright." Doc unplugs Cub from the laptop, and instead plugs it into himself. "Get out of that get up, and hop in the scanner. I want to see if the surge or whatever caused physical damage, or just shook up your code real good."

"Got it." The only hesitation Cub has about disrobing is a flash of irrational fear that Hotguy's shirt will evaporate into thin air as soon as he takes it off. But that's not how physics works. So Cub methodically strips off all of his outer layers, and neatly piles them up. It's kind of a pain to do without phasing his wings, but he manages. Cub puts the whole stack in one of his locked cabinets. Just for peace of mind. Not against Doc, he knows Doc wouldn't mess with or take them, more a precaution against other irrational thoughts.

And then Cub makes his way over to the scanner, opening it up and settling himself in place, laying comfortably enough that he won't feel the need to move while being scanned.

Closing his eyes and forcing himself to relax, Cub thinks about how nice it'll be to be in a dark room with a movie going, soon. Not all that much longer now.

While the scanner cycles up and Cub strips down, Doc busies himself looking over the code he just pulled. Parts of it are majorly messed up. If some touching them while on a full body charger had caused this, they would have to do some major redesigning of the wings structure, given that Doc reckons those morning touches are not going anywhere. If anything, given what he had seen, they would probably be getting worse. Void only knows what those two insane people will come up with, with all the things they had installed in Cub, and any powers Hotguy may have but not use. Doc only has to look at Ren and himself to see just what cybernetics can be used for, in the bedroom. He has a lube dispenser built into his fingers in this arm, for crying out loud.

Once Cub is fully encased within the scanning chamber, Doc turns his attention the scanner controls, and starts a number of different scans. Not every scan he wants, some aren't safe to do with the materials used in the wings, but enough scans. he goes back to looking to a fix to the code problem, though it's looking like they are going to have to wipe Cub's systems and do a complete reinstall. Not that that is much of an issue with how often they do it, as some scans can have the tendency to mess with the programming, so it's safer to remove all removable memory banks, like the ones he has, and do a complete backup of all systems, wipe everything and set up the backup. A procedure both of them have done countless times, and could probably do in their sleep by now, on account of both having experimental technology in them that they monitor and check frequently.

Leaving Cub to get scanned, and any further troubleshooting be for now, Doc heads back to the kitchen. He hasn't had breakfast, from what he can tell neither have Cub or Hotguy, and both will want food when they are done with their scan and shower respectively.

Cub doesn't get what Hotguy's problem with the scanning chamber was. It's dark, and isolated, and quiet aside from the hum of machinery. All in all, a perfect place to relax.

He plays one of his favored games during these times, guessing the exact suite of scans Doc queued up from just the movements and sounds of the machine around him. Cub compiles it to a list for later checking with the resultant files from the scan.

There's not really much else to do at this point. Maybe play a round of brain minesweeper while the not-brain bits of him are being scanned. With the force feedback turned off, of course.

When the rhythmic clunking winds down, and the machine opens up to spit Cub back out, he is alone in the lab. He peels himself off the scanning table, taking care not to bump his wings as he slides them out of their designated cutout, and pads over to check the desk for a note from Doc.

Nothing. He does get a different clue, however. Cub's stomach rumbles, reminding him that it's getting later into the morning, and he's been up for- he queries his logs. Coming up on five hours now. And he still hasn't eaten breakfast. Which leads him to the kitchen, where he finds Doc, and a bowl of apple oatmeal next to him at the table. The bowl is still hot when Cub touches it.

"43 seconds earlier than I anticipated." Doc is digging into a variety of breakfast foods from a tupper box.

"Yessss let's gooo!" Cub slides into the seat next to Doc, moaning in bliss as he takes the first bite of his oatmeal. It's thick and warm, just the way he likes it. The diced apples make for a fun texture crunch every now and then. He swallows the spoonful of thick creamy goodness, and looks over at Doc. "Have you looked at my scans yet?"

"Nah." Doc crunches into some toast. "Made you food. I have reviewed the error logs though. Got some thoughts on that."

Scar slides his other hand, the one not slowly and methodically working over his cock, up over his chest and neck, cupping his jaw for a moment, before he shoves two fingers into his own mouth, pressing down on his tongue an-

Bleugh! Scar's whole body recoils, spitting out onto the water running over the shower floor at the taste of more of the gross medical goop on his hand. In a determined effort the get rid on the bad taste, he reaches for the first tasty thing in reach, the delicious bodywash Vex had gotten for him, so that he could smell the way Vex wants him to, the way Vex likes him to, flips open the lid, and squeezes a good amount straight onto his tongue.

The awful, soapy taste hits him moments later, and he whines. Stuck with this mouthful of awful soapyness that he both does not want to swallow, cannot make himself swallow, but also refuses to spit back out. It's Vex's, Vex's soap, that he chose just for Scar. He doesn't want to waste it, to waste any little bit Vex is willing to give him. So Scar sits there, stuck, bodywash dripping out of his open mouth like drool, slipping down his chest and running thickly over his stomach. He wishes it were a different pearly white liquid of Vex's running out of his mouth like that.

If he won't waste it, won't spit it out, no matter how much it bites the inside of his mouth, no matter how bad it tastes, then he can at least use what is already on him to wash up, surely. Efficiency, and all that. Groping around for a washcloth, Scar starts to lather it around on his chest, moreso smearing around the bodywash and luxuriating in the rough feel of the cloth on his skin than actually washing. He can't make himself move it any lower, the sting when he rubs it over his nipples going straight to where he's still jerking his dick further down, desperately needing to get off, but drawing it out and denying himself that release, because that's what Vex would do, and he belongs to Vex.

"Care to share those thoughts?" Cub asks.

"M-well..." Doc swallows his food. "Seems like a certain set of processes with the sensory processing is what's throwing up the errors." Putting down his fork Doc turns to pull his tablet out of his pack. Setting it on the table, he goes back to eating his food, preferring to use his mind over his hands to operate the tablet.

"That feels about right." Cub confirms. "Moving still works fine." He flairs his wings in demonstration, then winces at the renewed pins and needles in the limbs.

Download Complete lights up the tablet screen, the screen unlocking and navigating to the image gallery seemingly on its own.

Onscreen are the images from Cub's scans.

Scar arches up into his own hand on his chest, squeezing his own tit just like how he remembers Vex doing. His other hand has abandoned his cock, not ready to let his fun end so soon. Thinking of Vex pulling his hands away, imagining so clearly Vex telling him, commanding him to spread his legs yet further, Vex's hands hiking one of Scar's legs onto a shelf-support.

Fuck, Scar wants this so damn much. Scar has to stop even playing with his chest a moment, breathing hard and holding himself back. He hasn't been given permission to- That edge falls away again, a mournful parting, letting him pinch his own nipple as the water thoroughly wets his other hand. He's ready, open for Vex, open for pleasure. Ready to be burned up in the fires of his own lust.

Presenting himself, open and willing. Wanting. Needing. Scar whimpers, begging in a sweet babble for Vex to touch him. Long moments drag past before Scar allows his hand to slide down, below his dick, ignoring the direct throbbing pulse of his need, kneading into the sensitive skin beyond and sliding back to rub circles over his entrance.

Vex would be slow. Meticulous. Like the way he kisses. Like he wants to take Scar apart and study his every reaction. And hell damn does Scar want to be picked apart and studied by Vex- Scar wouldn't prepare himself as much, but Vex, Vex is going to draw this out, going to make him work and wait for his gratification. Strong fingers into supple skin, Scar is already so loose and relaxed, but fingertip massages loosen him even more. Make him keen and shake and plead for more. Vex's glowing eyes haunt him, see clean through him.

Scar's gratitude echoes and bounces off the shower walls, as he presses his finger in finally, babbling thank yous between moans and gasps.

Cub sticks his spoon into his half-eaten oatmeal, and picks up the tablet. "You have your own copy?" he asks Doc, already knowing the answer. Doc always pulls his own copy of any scans, storing them in the extensive medical file he keeps on Cub.

"Hmhm." Doc is decimating his eggs, pausing briefly to tap the end of his fork to the metal casing of his cranial cybernetics.

"Good. Good." Cub studies the individual images, paying close attention to every detail he can see. "You got a comparative analysis with the last images for me?" he asks. Doc can run it much faster than he can, pulling old images and overlaying them with the new ones, aligning them and highlighting sections with a certain amount of coloration changes.

Doc hums out a confirmation, and moments later a series of downloading icons pop up in the notifications on the tablet, as Doc uploads each image individually.

Scar doesn't let himself rest on his laurels of that initial carefulness, no. Vex may tease, may move with thoughtful precision, but he keeps moving once he starts. He keeps pushing.

So Scar keeps pushing himself. He barely even notices the first couple additional fingers, rocking them in and out with care not to hit anywhere too sensitive inside himself. Just enough friction to keep him simmering, but always frustratingly off-target.

What Scar does notice, after he'd gotten the whole flat of his hand in, is the stretch so sweetly bordering on painful. Water runs down his body and over his hand as he tries to cant his hips to get an angle to slip his thumb-

Screaming pain stops Scar in his tracks, bad pain, stiff pain that tries to lock up his legs. A warning that they will lock up, if he carries down that path. He's so so so lucky it was just a warning and not an immediate- Fuck, the pain thumps a pulse he can feel in his tongue, until he manages to shuffle into a new position that doesn't make it worse.

With determination, Scar curls his fingers, still inside himself. A rubbing tap of pleasure jumpstarts returning the arousal the half-cramp had stolen from him, getting Scar back on track to rock nearly his entire hand out of himself. Apologies spill from his lips, that he can't do this for Vex. Promises that he wants it, wants Vex's hand, his fist, as much of Vex as Vex will give him.

Sharp whines at the lack of potential fullness escape him from between Scar's groans as he coaxes the rocking friction back into a warm blaze threading through his gut. Someday it'll be Vex's hands on him, and he won't have to care if his stupid body attempts to betray him. Vex kneeing in front of him, telling him how pretty he is, him losing himself to Vex's girth. Vex praising him for taking everything. Scar rocks his hips into his own thrusts, head thumping back onto the tile and mouth falling fully open, tongue flicking into air for a treat he won't find.

Cub hums, flicking through the images, chewing on his food. "Are you seeing this? These darker spots on the second RAM?"

Doc nods. "Yeah. I sink that was the one we mainly run the sensory processing on, no? Maybe those spots are damage?"

Cub sighs. "I was hoping we could do this without cracking open the old noggin, but I guess not. I guess not." He flicks back and forth between a few images, comparing. "At least only one of them seems to be affected, so I guess that's good news." He pushes his empty bowl aside, his head thunking onto the kitchen table.

"Don't concuss yourself. I don't treat stupidity." is all Doc has to say about this behavior.

Scar gives a pitiful whine, as another peak slips away, unreached. He thinks, he hopes Vex would both be this mean to him, and also take pity on him. Let him cum. Let him be free from this burning need. Panting. open-mouthed, he turns his head into the spray, drinking down a mouthful of water. He's been so close so many times, he's lost count. Hadn't even thought to start to count, in his need. Each touch feels rough, like he can count the ridges of his fingerprints on the hand he has jammed inside himself as far as his aching back will allow, digging knuckles and fingers hard into his prostate whenever he dares, hoping it will not tip him over before he has permission.

There is no one here to give him permission. Just him, the hand he can't fully fit in his ass, and the water pattering on his skin like a thousand tiny pebbles. Hiding the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

Vex is not here to give him permission. Will likely never be here to give him permission. Scar should be ashamed, lusting after this villain, who wants nothing from him but his defeat. Who only sees him as an obstacle to be removed.

Scar twists his hand inside himself, the rough scrape of calloused fingers on overstimulated insides drawing broken sounds from his aching throat. It's not enough, his own hand, not the one in him, and not the one on him. Still tugging at his dick, despite it having gone nearly numb with the repeat edges and friction. Nerves too fried to feel anymore.

Trying to get a better angle, any angle, any new form of stimulation, he shifts under the spray. His foot, braced against a tiled wall shelf, slips, jamming his fingers hard into his prostate, dead on.

Scar howls, deep and wounded, as the intense pain forces a short, harsh orgasm out of him. One that leaves him winded, and worse off than before, no longer having the curl of building pleasure to offset the discomfort, but not quenching his need, fanning it higher instead.

Hand still buried palm deep inside him, Scar does his best to curl up, hoping the spray from the shower can hide his tears even from himself.

"You done?" Cub asks, when Doc closes his tupper.

"No, I'm eating the table next." Doc deadpanned. "Yeah, I'm done." He uncurls his massive body from its customary pretzel, rocking first back to stretch his front and then forward to stretch his back legs out. Shaking himself off like a wet dog, Doc trots over to the dishwasher and adds the cutlery he had used, alongside Cub's bowl and spoon.

"We gonna go crack open my skull now?" Cub bounces on the balls of his feet.

"Soon. I wanna check the bite on your neck first. How did that even happen man?" Cub is again scooped up and deposited on Docs back.

Cub wonders how difficult it would be to make a blanket that feels like Doc's fur does, as he relaxes into laying on Doc's back again. There's something comforting about it, and a nice smell.

Still, he has to answer the question, even if he doesn't want to think about it. Cub does not need a reminder of the transcendent image of Hotguy standing over him, snarling fury with Cub's blood running down his chin and chest. Cub's going to be seeing that enough as it is.

"I told you man, I tried to take the collar off him after I got the cuffs off and he just- Snapped. Bit me. Never seen him like that before." Cub sighs, pressing his face into Doc's fur again. "Something's not right, gonna have to scan his brain later. Once he's stable enough." And once Cub's own brain stops being so staticky.

The gnawing guilt that even his so perfectly careful rules and systems haven't prevented him from doing damage to Hotguy's brain, has become a constant companion in Cub's mind at this point. It wanes and waxes, but never fades completely. But he'll fix it. He will. He'll get those scans and figure out how to put Hotguy back to the way he's supposed to be. Or at the very least how not to do more damage to him.

Even if it means giving up the perfect, sweet, thrilling way Hotguy melds to his commands, the adoring way Hotguy melts under his praise. It's not right, not how Hotguy is supposed to be, especially not while wearing a collar without controlling tech in it. How much Cub wants to covet those moments, steal more of them for himself, doesn't matter. It's not about him.

Except that it is about him, and about doing what he can live with at the end of the day. Cub has to remind himself of that.

"It's quite the love bite." Doc chuckles, his back vibrating under Cub. "Are you sure you guys didn't just make out too eagerly and now you don'ts wants to tell me?"

Cub groans, low and long, into Doc's fur. The throbbing painful heat of the bite probably is what love feels like anyway- Not that Cub would know.

"I wish. Believe me, Doc, if that were the case? If that were the case? You wouldn't be able to shut me up about it." Cub sighs, glum. "No, the makeouts were separate and don't count."

"Ah, there were finally makeouts, yes? Multiple from how you says it? I'm surprised I haven't heard every detail by now, with how you usually gush about him. I assume you fucked too, yes? Got your hands on his tight little ass? Or did he get his on yours?" Doc gives said ass a good squeeze, when he lifts Cub off his back.

"There's no point in talking about them when they don't count." Cub stubbornly reiterates. "He's not in his right mind, that's- Too far to take pretending, you know?" No matter how much his libido says he didn't take it far enough. Cub swats lightly at Doc for the squeeze, rolling his eyes. Still, he moves to get ready for the procedure, both of them practiced at their own parts of preparation by now, almost second nature.

To his surprise, Doc isn't preparing with him, when Cub turns to him, mask off and skin pink again, Vex persona fully dropped now that the door between them and Hotguy is locked. Doc's rifling through his pack again, laying out a few things Cub recognizes as used in wound flushing. Cub groans, and once again lets his head thunk onto the table when he sees what disinfectant Doc chose.

"This is going to hurt like a bitch, isn't it." It's more statement than question. Looks like Doc, the old sadist, had chosen his punishment for... something. If it's the not cleaning the wound properly in time, or the not telling him about the makeouts, or the early hour, or something completely different, Cub doesn't know. What he does know is that this will have him aching in more ways than just one. Doc knows it too, how much the sting of disinfectant can turn him on, work him up, especially when he's already frustrated from all the unintended teasing and denial from the day before.

All Cub gets in response is an amused chuckle.

"Fine, bring it on." If Doc's going to play it that way, then fine, Cub can step up. Can't be worse than any of the last day's everything. That's what Cub tells himself, anyway. He's allowed a little lie to himself every now and again.

At least Doc doesn't know he'd shoved his wet fingers in the wound and wiggled them around. Cub can only imagine what the punishment would be for that.

Cub settles himself in Doc's reach, tipping his head to expose the wound. He keeps his expression carefully schooled to disinterest, at least to start. Where's the fun if he doesn't make Doc work for his reactions?

"Hold this." Handing Cub a kidney dish, Doc guides him to press it to the skin a couple inches under the bite with both hands. Both to catch the flushing fluid, and to keep Cub's hands busy. Can't have him touching himself before Doc allows it. That part will come later, as will the retribution for not telling him about the makeouts.

Doc is both surprised Cub and Hotguy actually kissed, and at the same time not surprised at all. It's the timing, he reckons, as well as the lack of fucking to follow. He owes Ren a day of being his free use slut now, since he lost their bet.

Working behind Cub, as to not let him see what was going on and leave him in suspense, Doc gloves up and pulls up a large syringe of the disinfectant. With no warning, he uses the fingers of one hand to spread the wound open, then pushes in the needle-less syringe tip and depresses the plunger slowly and steadily.

Cub makes sure his grip on the dish is steady, solid enough to squeeze without slipping or dipping his fingers into the fluid that will fill it. Honestly, Doc's more doing him a favor than anything, taking away any temptation to use his hands for anything else.

The first flush of pain straightens Cub's spine with a jolt, but he holds in any sounds. He can't let himself be quite that easy to work up, even if the lengthy continued stream of disinfectant leaves him hissing his breath through his teeth to avoid any further sound.

Cub leans slightly forward into the pressing of Doc's hand, easing off briefly then leaning again. Not quite as good as his own fingers in the bite, but something close enough to make Cub press his thighs together.

"Is that all you got?" Cub goads, voice overly tightly level. He already wants more.

"I'm just getting started." Cub is a delight in every way. Doc is so proud and happy to be able to call Cub his partner.

Drawing up a second syringe, Doc makes sure to really get it deep in there this time. Spends a good amount of time just poking and wiggling it around in the wound. That, in combination with the previous flushing, has a renewed stream of blood flowing from the wound. Deeming the tip worked in nice and deep, Doc depresses the plunger again, this time dragging the syringe through the crescent as he does, earning him a beautiful bitten off gasp of pain from Cub as he quivers beneath him.

Fully throwing proper medical procedure into the wind, Doc dips one thick disinfectant soaked fingertip into the wound, stretching it so far the edges go taunt and white as he shamelessly starts to finger it. The flow of clear and red liquid stops, his finger sealing the hole tight, pressure building as he continues to force in more disinfectant with the syringe. Fluid gushes forth when Doc pulls his finger out of the hot confines of Cub's insides, only to shove it back in harshly.

"Good." Cub's voice crackles slightly, his voice changer trying to flicker on in the jumbled mix of signals through his brain, before he forces it back off again. No mask, no filter, that's what Cub does his best to maintain. The glowing eyes he's less strict about, just because they're cool.

The scent of disinfectant is harsh in Cub's mouth and nose, almost a taste. He carefully doesn't slosh the rinsed out liquid in the basin he's holding, watching the way his blood drips and diffuses into it, bright against the metal.

For one irrational moment Cub tries to wrangle his words to demand Doc extend his claw, on the finger plugged into his wound. Thankfully, they don't come together, knocked completely out of Cub's brain by the sudden release of pressure, pulling a couple sharp twitches out of his hips. He should have sat along the edge, Cub thinks, so that he could grind down into his seat. Instead Cub is stuck humping up into the air with a paper-thin whine when Doc plunges back into him again. Cub presses himself forward, taking as much of Doc as he can. Just. To get the depths of the wound as clean as possible. Of course.

Cub's breaths have turned into panting gasps, mind tugged back and forth between the pain of the wound and the mounting pressure of needy arousal.

Cub is doing so beautifully for him. Doc draws up yet another syringe, moving to a so far unflushed bit. There are plenty of smaller holes and tears here for him to drawn this out for a while. Plus, he'll have to apply the healing and scar prevention ointments after the flushing is done.

"Hold still." He chides Cub, even though his twitching hips won't affect Doc's work in any way. It still is a beautiful sight to see Cub struggle to remain still for him. Doc positions the syringe at the opening of the next hole. "Wouldn't want to get hurt on accident, would you." Cub can't see him, but Doc still grins wide, showing all his sharp teeth. A breath rushes out of Cub.

Doc roughly shoves the syringe in, with no regard for the pain it will cause Cub. Already flooding the wound with more stinging disinfectant as he pushes in until he hits resistance, and then a bit harder, just for good measure. Can't have any part go unflushed.

(Normally, he would give a local anesthetic for this, and use a much gentler solution. But Cub- Cub doesn't need those considerations, those concessions to his comfort. He revels in the pain Doc can cause him just as much as in the pleasure. Doc thinks those two may just be one and the same, to Cub. If Doc wanted to, he could make Cub cum untouched, just like this, from fingers and stinging disinfectant and hard plastic syringes buried deep in the meat of Cub's body in openings that should not exist, should not cause this level of pleasure. He's done it before.)

Some of the wound may be unflushed, but Cub certainly isn't, he can feel the splotchy heat of his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders. As if the heat of the infection were spreading through him.

His thighs quiver, trembling with the force of him trying to stop their movement. Denied even the futile seeking of pressure that isn't there.

"Not. On accident." Cub grits out, mostly echoing Doc's words, because he doesn't have any room in his brain to think of things to say himself. He just wants to prove that he still can talk at all, even if all it does is show audibly how deeply wrecked he is already.

A full moan escapes Cub, as Doc grinds the gushing syringe into his wound. Cub would already be slumped down onto the table, if he weren't putting so much straining effort into remaining as still as he was told to be.

"Finally." Doc grumbles at Cub, now that he's holding mostly still. Cub wears the desperation of it so well. Idly, Doc dips his fingers into the wound again. Digs them deep, presses into the flesh. When he pulls them out this time, it's with the wet squelch of blood staining them red.

"Looks like I'm going to have to do that one again." There really is no reason for that, with the flowing blood washing away any remaining contamination. Doc just wants to hurt Cub more.

Setting another full syringe at the opening, he forces not just the tip in, but the entire girth of it, which is a lot more than his fingers. The fingers had already been a stretch. Forcing the syringe in tears the flesh open wider, on the edges. Doc can feel the give at it happens. He pushes the plunger down hard, forcing the already hurting and tight area into more pain, more burn, more pressure.

Cub licks his lips, having to smother the urge to lean forward and lick his own blood off of Doc's fingers. Unsanitary, but incredibly appealing. A thought-wire crosses, and Cub has the flicker of a mental image of Hotguy, the one licking up his blood and suckling on those fingers instead.

A groan punches out of Cub, the image dissolving into fragments under the burning tear of flesh, replaced by a new one, Hotguy's fingers joining Doc's in his wound, stuffing it yet more over-full and scooping out blood to paint Hotguy's lips with-

Winding heat builds throughout Cub, a concentration of pressure that he knows means Doc won't have to keep at this much longer before Cub tips over into release, even untouched. Cub refuses to beg for it, but shivering gasps wrack his body all the same. A trembling wire of need, so close to closing the circuit.

Seeing the characteristic shivers run through Cub, Doc backs off, pulling the syringe out with a pop! and another bubbling gush of red-stained liquids. Giving Cub time to cool off, he preps another few syringes in one go, setting them aside for now.

Cub is still a mess by the time Doc finishes, shivers wracking Cub’s whole body intermittently. Hopefully, he is no longer a mess a hairs breath away from release. Doc wants to draw this out.

"You weren't about to cum in your pants on me there, were you? Just from having your wound washed?" Doc asks, fully aware Cub was. Teasing him is just too much fun. Now, to make him lose the rest of his restrained demeanor and make him beg for it...

A little flinch of a gasp is all Doc gets from Cub as Doc takes away all the pain, all the stimulation. Every image Cub tries to conjure up to get himself there slips out of his grasp, static and hollow. Even if the brief thought of Hotguy pressed close to Doc almost feels like it’s something, before that too dissolves. Cub’s chance to rid himself of this fevered heat slips out of his hands, torn away by Doc.

"If I didn't know better. I'd think you're jealous." Cub sounds slightly more composed again, grumbling his low rumble of words. He breathes deep and steadying breaths, taking as much advantage of the break as he can.

"Jealous? What is there to be jealous of, little horror? I'm heading home to Ren after this. Gonna pound him into the bed real good." Doc places a heavy hand on the bite and squeezes. "You however, I have not yet decided on what I want to do with you. Might just leave you here like this, hard, leaking, and denied for Hotguy to find. I'd put your mask back on you, I'm not a monster," Doc chuckles. "But the rest would be up to you."

Without giving Cub a moment to recover from his words, Doc immediately shoves the next syringe into a fresh, unrinsed bit, and forces it full of disinfectant.

The one-two hit of the pet name and Doc's whole hand squeezing his bite-wound drags a guttural low wail out of Cub. The mixture of tenderness and roughness shredding through his composure like that façade wasn't even there to begin with. Cub can't catch his breath, it comes in hitches and bursts.

Still, he was going to attempt to answer Doc's threat, a threat Cub's burning-delirious mind can't quite find to be a bad idea right now, when the burn of disinfectant flares back to life. "Ah!" Is all that comes out instead of the composed words Cub had been planning on.

His knuckles grow pale from their clutched grip on the basin he's holding against his chest to catch the messy, cloudy flow. And yet, he remains still, as trembling-still as he can. Refusing to lose entirely at this challenge.

"Ren and I both have the day off." Doc continues, as if he isn't pushing the limits of what Cub can take.

"Might give him some eggs too, been having a few more than is comfortable knocking around inside. And you guys seem to enjoy them so much." The chuckle, and the feeling of the next syringe being placed on his shoulder, the next part of the bite rinsed, has Cub momentarily loosing his iron grip on his hips, giving a single, aborted thrust into the air.

"Tsk." Doc gives his shoulder another hard squeeze, before letting up for a moment. "Last one. So you better enjoy this."

Enjoy it Cub does. Doc draws it out for him, all sensual and painful. Cub's shoulder is a mess of fire and agony by now, fuel for the fire in his gut. And yet somehow, Doc keeps finding new places to hurt. Or maybe they are old places, places that he already hurt, that are now that much more sensitive, pain singing along Cubs nerves and driving him up to the precipice hard.

"Done. You can give that back now." Cub sags as careful fingers extract the bowl from his grasp.

"Lucky man." Cub shoves the words out well and truly belatedly, followed by a long moan.

Muddled thoughts of Doc and Hotguy working together to take him apart fill Cub's mind, singeing him to so much as look at for too long. Cub rides out that final heat, final flared pain, for as long as he can, before it begins to fade without any kind of climax.

Giving up the bowl to Doc is slow, Cub uncurling each finger manually. Still, he'd survived. He hadn't gotten any relief, but he'd made it through.

Cub doesn't indulge in sagging for long, straightening up when Doc returns, dish disposed of, new gloves applied, and first aid supplies gathered. They're not quite done yet, just past the worst (best) of it.

Slow pants of breath gradually bleed the fevered warmth out of Cub's skin, bringing all but the bits nearest the bite back to their usual chill in minutes. Meanwhile, Doc hums to himself as he finishes up the last few familiar steps. Patting the wound dry with a fresh pack of gauze pads, and slathering on ointments that make even the infected skin feel blessedly cool.

While Cub's brain is still not in good working order, the corner of it he'd managed to carve out for thoughts spins back up into vague functionality "Thanks." He really does appreciate Doc, including when Doc's being kind of mean to him. How could Cub not appreciate someone willing to push the limits of Cub's body with him?

Finishing up, Doc sticks a large plaster over the bite, now clean and medicated. Turning, he disposes of his gloves, and starts packing up his supplies again.

"Next time you get bit, clean it out immediately." he chides. Barely acknowledges Cubs almost reflexive 'Yes, Doc' behind him.

"Now that your shoulder is looked at, we can move on to your head. If I remember correctly you do keep replacement parts here somewhere, right?" Doc looks around.

"Yeah, that cupboard, bottom shelf. I can get ‘em." Cub nods at the cupboard, but stays seated. Legs probably won't carry him yet. No wonder, after what Doc just put him through.

"I can do it. You start shutting down and see if you can take your wings off after that." Doc pads over and pulls out the box with the replacement parts, all neatly and individually packaged, sorted orderly into their spaces. Meanwhile, he pulls up the interface for the rooms machines on his own implants, and sets the steri-field to spin up, and sterilizes the chair they use for working on Cub's head as it goes. This is going to take a while.

After throwing himself a proper post-shower fit on his bed, wet and thrashing and naked, Scar eventually decides that he's not getting anywhere with this. The moment has passed, the mood is gone. He's too sore and winded to work himself up again, anyway. He might as well move on to other things.

First things first, he retrieves his box of lung sharpnel from the bathroom counter, and sets it in a nicely visible place of honor up on one of his shelves. Shelves lined with lego sets he's completed during his weeks here, DVDs of the movies they've watched, toys and trinkets and the occasional plants with little fancy waterer machines.

No matter where he looks, Scar can't escape the memories of his times here, of passing moments mentioning his interests to Vex, only to find some new thing lining the shelves the next time he's kidnapped.

Kidnapped. Brought here against his will. A pretty, fun cage, but a cage nonetheless.

Scar doesn't want to think about any of that.

Thankfully, his stomach has some very helpful timing, rumbling loudly enough to remind himself that it exists. That he's been given a task. He's supposed to take those pills with food soon-soon.

After pulling on a hoodie and sweats, mockeries of his own merch done up in Vex's colors and branded with Vex's logo, Scar retrieves his pills and safely stows them in the pocket. The kitchen is only a short walk away. This time he does wish for his cane, even though it's not as bad as before. But that's not an option here, so Scar just goes slow and makes due without it.

Surely Vex will have to get hungry soon, as well. Scar doesn't really ever remember Vex doing much in the kitchen for himself, that's Scar's domain. So Scar decides that he'll surprise Vex with a nice meal for them both. A little treat, something to bring them closer to normal again, to get them in the right headspace for the promised movie time afterward.

It'll be great, Scar's sure of it!

The fridge contents are still limited, but Scar can do some tasty things with the eggs he finds. Toast, potatoes, and a can of beans round out his selection.

Starting off by dicing the potatoes into small cubes, Scar tosses them into a pan with the beans.

While that cooks, Scar heats up some butter in a pan, and uses a glass to cut round holes into the bread slices. Adding the buttered bread to the pan, both the slices with the cutouts and the round bits he cut out, to toast up nice and brown. Into the bread holes, he cracks an egg each, sprinkling seasoning on top. The circles he flips. They will be his snack, so he can be good and take his pill.

Leaning heavily on the counter to take a moment to breathe, Scar again wishes for his cane. Or maybe one of those high roll-y stool things.

Scar plates up the beans and hash, flipping the egg-toasts. The snack circles he puts on a separate plate, with a spoonful of hash, taking the first bite and moaning approvingly at the taste.

Rounding out the plates with two nest eggs each, Scar sets them out on the table. Back at the counter, he finishes his snack, and swallows the pill down dry. His dish goes in the sink, and Scar himself goes in a chair at the table. Everything in it's rightful place, as it should be.

All Scar has to do from here is wait. Admittedly, not his strongest skill. But! It'll be worth it. When Vex gets in, and sees the meal ready and warm and waiting. And when Scar gets to tell Vex that Scar did all the silly medical stuff right, too! Even though Doc was way too rulesy and complicated about most of it.

Admittedly, Scar is still hungry. All his snack has done is remind his body that food exists, not helped by the smells wafting off of the spread in front of him.

But it'd be rude to start the meal proper without Vex! And awkward to sit there and wait while Vex eats, if Scar had already wolfed down his own food first. And if the food never tastes quite as good when Scar eats alone, well. All the more reason to wait.

If Scar doesn't look at a clock, then the slow crawl of time can't hurt him. He fiddles with the charm on his collar, fingertips tracing the grooves of Vex's logo, the round curve of the medallion. He can't quite reach that muffled foggy place by himself, but the reminder of Vex's claim on him still softens the passage of time, makes it easier to ignore the contour of the chair digging mildly into his thigh, the damp press of his hair on the back of his neck. Maybe he'll ask about getting the chairs replaced, later. They're good, but they could be better, and Scar wants his kitchen to be perfect.

The surface of the table sneaks up on Scar, degree by degree, until he's folded down onto a clear spot on it, resting his head on his arms. Just a moment of rest, not sleep, and then he'll pick himself back up, he tells himself. Just a moment-

Properly disinfected, Cub sinks forward on the chair, leaning forward onto the headrest so Doc can access the back of his head. The bulk of his cranial implants are situated at the base of his skull, just above where the neck muscles attach. The compartment itself wasn't visible from the outside, the outside covered by synthskin, which also grew hair. Running his fingers thorough that hair, Doc feels along Cub's scalp for the slight ridge under the skin that denotes the seam where the access hatch opens. Parting Cub's hair along that line, he uses a generous amount of clips to fasten it out of the way.

The top layer of synthskin healed perfectly from last time, Doc notes, not even a faint scar visible. Good.

He sprays down the area with disinfectant, studying the panes of Cub's back as he waits for it to dry. Without his wings, the large ports on his back are barely visible, only a light dimpling in folds and flaps of synthskin grafted to Cub's skin giving away their positions. No redness or swelling that Doc can see, though he figures he might as well take a peek inside them while he's got Cub sat here for him anyways.

When Cub's scalp is dry, Doc picks up a small scalpel.

"Hold still now." Doc gives Cub a headsup before he makes the first careful cut, separating the thin layer of synthskin cleanly. The bleeding stops almost immediately, the vessels in the skin contracting like they should, cutting off the bloodflow. Under his hands, Cub tenses at the pain, then relaxes slowly as his breaths become slow and measured. Cub hadn't asked for an anesthetic, nor applied one himself, so Doc hadn't bothered with it. Cub can handle the bit of pain, might even enjoy it.

Holding still this time is much simpler for Cub. Much less going on. His brain quieter without the background thrum of processes curled around his thoughts, his body quieter with only a single tiny pinpoint of stimulation dragged across the back of his head.

Easy then, to let the tiny blip of pain wash over him, and to settle into the calm it leaves behind. For a brief time, he's just a machine to be serviced, like any other. Doc's hands are steady, calming in their precision. If there was ever a time Cub might understand the appeal of meditation, it would be in these moments.

Pulling back a loose bit of synthskin, Doc uncovers the latch, unlatching it and opening the hatch. Densely packed computer parts come into view. The damaged RAM is easy to find, small scorch marks around it's socket. Doc uses forceps to carefully remove it, dropping it into the discard bowl, to be taken apart and studied later, to hopefully determine what went wrong.

The socket, fortunately, is undamaged.

The new RAM bar is already unpacked, waiting to be put in. The rest of the parts box is within Cub's reach, for him to unpack anything else Doc may need without having to leave the sterile area. The sterile area is not strictly necessary, per se, with only shallow synthskin cuts being made, but Doc prefers it anyway, both for the familiar feel of surgery and to help minimize infection risk. The steri-field projected over the area is just another extra precaution, against any airborne contaminants.

A soft snick sees the new RAM seated into place. Doc puts down the forceps, looking over the parts for any further damage.

"Everything else looks good in here." He tells Cub. "I'm gonna close back up."

An affirmative hum, given that Cub can't nod right now, and is probably too comfortable to speak. Doc closes the hatch, ensuring no hair gets caught, and that it fully seals all the way around. The cut in the synthskin is treated with a small bead of skin sealant, piped from a little syringe around the entire cut. When pushed together, the skin seals up, like the cut was never there, the surplus sealant the only giveaway.

"Done." Doc wipes off the extra sealant, and turns off the steri-field. "Though I'd like to check on your back ports, since I have you here."

Cub flexes his hands, shaking off a little of his deep calm to focus on what Doc's saying. "Sounds good." He even manages an answer, in loose, brief words.

The warning is good, enough for Cub to brace himself. Hopefully without the wings attached, without his systems booted up, he won’t have the same sensitivity in that whole area as this morning, but it's better to be prepared. Just a normal port exam, nothing to stress about. So he doesn't.

Doc discards his gloves, the wing ports, being external, not needing the same careful consideration. All external ports on both of them are designed that way, to be touched and used just like any other body part, waterproof and all.

Just running his hands flat over Cub's back for now, Doc pets the skin, both for the pure physical enjoyment of petting his partner, and to ensure there are no sensory issues with the synthskin.

"Anything feel off? Numb? Painful?" Doc runs a single finger down the outer synthskin, covering every square inch one after the other in a well practiced methodical pattern.

"No." Cub hums.

Outer skin checked, Doc dips his fingers in and spreads the folds open the same way the wings would. No redness or swelling on the inside either. All contacts clean, with no sign of wear. Doc taps a finger against each port in different places. None cause a pained reaction in Cub, who knows better than to not mention any pain during these proceedings.

"Looking good." Doc claps Cub on his uninjured shoulder. "Time to do the software reset, and then you should be good."

The smooth and predictable motions of Doc's touches are as soothing as ever, to Cub. Thankfully. Just the orderly optimal pathing, efficiently clearing each bit of synth-skin. By the time Doc is poking around inside the ports, Cub is too calm to have much a reaction at all, outside of soft little sighs.

Doc's hand on his shoulder rouses Cub a bit, brings him blinking back to thoughts. "Got it." Cub agrees, once he's cleared up what Doc said. "Got the backup snapshot ready." He'd prepared it while on his laptop earlier, just in case.

Cub pulls himself up from the seat, shaking out his arms and rolling his neck, getting everything used to moving again.

Cub hooks into his laptop using the high speed proprietary ConCorp connector port in his wrist. "Handshake's good. You want to do the honors?" Cub could manage it himself, but he figures he should offer. Anyway, it's nice not having to focus with his brain while also working on his brain.

"Sure, hand it here." Doc takes the laptop from him, careful not to strain the connector. Despite feeling so heavy, Doc's hands move with a deft speed over the keys, which Cub allows himself a bit of time to admire.

Cub imagines he can feel a lightened dizziness of files being deleted and the insertion of new files to take their place, but with all the systems shut down, Cub knows it's likely to be no more than a figment of his imagination. A phantom, meaningless.

The disconnect chime sounds from the laptop's speakers, automatically moving Cub to remove the cable from his wrist port out of habit.

"Go ahead and boot up for me." Doc watches Cub, cybernetic eye focusing and refocusing. Doc's supervision brings a sense of safety that stops any nerves Cub might have found before they can even begin to form.

Cub closes his eyes, bringing his internal systems back online with a firm mental nudge. Putting it through its paces, he's given checkmark after checkmark.

"Everything coming back clean." Cub reports, tone bright with relief.

"Good. Try phasing now. Start slow. Then we will try your wings." Doc instructs. Cub first lets his hand glide out of phase, and when that doesn't hurt, his whole body. He remains on the same floor as Doc, not letting himself slip thought the floor. To further test his phasing, Cub lets his hand pass through the chair he's still sitting on. Again, no pain. It feels good, having this hard-earned ability restored to him.

"All good. Just the usual cold. Just cold." Cub flexes his hand, passing it through the chair a few more times, chasing off the last vestiges of the biting acid in his nerves.

"Good." collecting Cub's wings from the table, Doc comes up behind him. A smooth, warm hand touches Cub's back, slotting his right wing back into place with a click. The synthetic nerves connect to his brain seamlessly, cycling through the different sensitivity settings. Cub interrupts the process before they automatically go through a full movement test, which would smack Doc in the face with how he's currently positioned.

The second wing clicks into place, and this time Cub lets it do the motion range test, restarting the sequence for the other one too. Doc, knowing those would come, has stepped out of the way.

"Everything clear." Cub flexes and spreads his wings. He knows Doc will want to touch them now.

"I'm gonna touch your right wing now." As expected, Doc does. The warning is nice, it lets Cub dial down the sensitivity on them. Still, he can feel Doc's touch on them, precise strokes working methodically to cover the whole wing. He turns the sensitivity up then, when no problems arise, back to flight high.

Still the staticy tingle does not build around Doc's touch. Cub refuses to feel any one way about that. It must be from him having been on his charger then. Something they can look into later, when Hotguy has recovered and gone back home.

Doc works over Cub's left wing too. Cub reports no abnormalities on either of them.

"I'd say my job here is done. Both of you are fixed up, for now. So I'll be on my way then." Doc cups a hand around Cubs chin, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Got a few eggs to give Ren, you know how it is." Teasing Cub is just too much fun. His pupils always get so wide at the mention of eggs.

"Do make sure Hotguy follows my instructions, and that he knows how to contact me before you let him leave." Another quick kiss. "I'll be off now, bye little horror." With another kiss to Cub's lips, and one to his forehead, Doc sweeps out of the med lab, on his way back home.

"A pleasure, as always, Doc." Cub gives a little wave as Doc heads on out. Doc really is a reliable research and lab partner, as well as a solid medic. Cub's glad they're acquaintances.

[siriusly-yoongi]

A half worked out idea for a fic I might write, idk what to call this

I've been thinking about this for days, please let me know how you feel about it or where you think i should take this

I can't get this idea out of my head of alpha yoongi (likely all 7 of them but this part is about yoongi) and omega reader, the omega has some sort of past that I haven't worked out yet, but she's afraid of them for whatever reason.

Maybe they're mates (they're probably mates) maybe they're not but she (reader) wants to be close to the boys so bad but just cant get over whatever happened. And maybe a few of the members aren't so welcoming so that doesn't help

So slowly she starts trying to like, secretly get close to yoongi. Which its surprising she chose him in the first place because he's pretty closed off. Hes not mean or anything but hes the most closed off and to himself out of the group. And for some reason shes decided that hes the most safe (joon was almost her target but shes a bit too intimidated by the pack alpha)

She starts by sneaking into his room one night and just sitting in the corner while hes asleep (its not creepy, shut up) and sneaking back out before he wakes up thinking he won't notice. But he wakes up and his room smells like her so of course he noticed and hes puzzled but doesn't mention it to her or anyone else.

She does this for a few days and then one night she accidentally falls asleep and she realizes this is the best shes slept in a long time, only of course yoongi saw her when he woke up and shes asleep on the floor. He still doesn't say anything, just let's her come to him at her own pace.

She ends up sleeping in his room more often, then one night she brings a blanket, once she realizes yoongi isnt gonna kick her out, just one. And maybe shes never nested properly before so she doesn't know what shes doing really but she rolls up the blanket and kinda makes a wall so shes between the wall and the blanket cause it feels safer.

Then slowly over the days she brings another blanket, then another, then another, until shes made herself a little nest in the corner of his room. Yoongi still hasn't said anything but he is watching this happen, very fondly might I add.

Then one day his favorite hoodie or something goes missing and he cant find it for a week or so, then it suddenly appears on his bed, smelling like her, and another hoodie of his is gone. Yoongi still hasn't said a word about this to the rest of his pack, so they're all completely unaware, and he doesn't let people into his room so no one has been in there to notice it

Pretty soon half his wardrobe is incorporated into her little (not so little anymore) nest in the corner that now takes up a significant amount of floor space. Yoongi doesn't mind.

Then one night he isn't home, idk why yet, but hes gone overnight and when he comes back early the next morning he finds a certain someone asleep in his bed all wrapped up in his blankets and one of his shirts.

Yoongi decides to push her a little, just see what happens ans crawls into bed next to her. He stays on top of the blankets and he keeps distance between them. He just wants to see what she'll do. And to be fair he expected her to freak out a little bit but to his surprise she doesn't. When she wakes up she panics for a few seconds but ultimately rolls over and goes back to sleep.

The night after that, yoongi is a asleep and instead of going into her nest she just crawls right into bed with him. And thats the new normal moving forward, she sleeps on the opposite side of the bed. Super far away at first, borderline falling off the bed in the beginning, but she slowly inches closer. Until one night, maybe she has a nightmare, or she had a rough day, or there's a storm. Whatever it is something happens and yoongi notices shes upset so he pulls her against his chest. And he expected her to pull away but she doesn't. Shes tense at first but eventually she relaxes and falls asleep.

So now yoongi has a new cuddle buddy, meanwhile the rest of the pack not only have no idea this is happening, but they've also been trying for weeks now to make any sort of progress with the omega because she won't let anyone within a few feet of her without running away.

Then somehow someone finds out, maybe she freaks out and yoongi hugs her in front of everyone, or she runs to yoongi, or someone sees her go into yoongis room. Idk yet. But somehow someone finds out and the whole pack look at yoongi like "hey what the fuck man" cause he didnt tell anyone anything this whole time

And then chaos idk

Should I write something that includes this? Would anyone read it? Thoughts? Ideas? Please give me feedback

~Daisy

[marvelhead17]

Baldur's Gate 3 Dribble

Do any of my mutuals play? This game is absolutely addictive, especially when trying to get certain outcomes. If Marvel had come out with anything similar I would have sold my soul for it probably.

In the last week and a half I've played another 70+ hours so I have 389+ hours and do you know how many playthroughs I've completed? Just the one. Only have 36/54 achievements. Some people have played 1500 hours and said they've discovered new things along the way (whether exaggerating or because they've played since it's earlier phases, it's constantly getting patch updates and new content).

I've got another campaign going that is nearly there, but I've been into character creation again and UGH it's just so fun to do the stuff for the Emerald Grove in Act 1.

But also, there so many companions whether you romance them or not, just to do their quests sometimes. And then you can still get good and bad endings for EACH?

Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Astarion, Gale, Wyll (these first ones are the main ones that you can even play yourself and get g/b endings for), and then Halsin, Jaheira, and Minsc can join you later. I don't know if the last 2 on the list are romanceable, but there are still bad characters you can have that I haven't explored yet.

Gushing about my Tavs below, and possibly spoilers for anyone who hasn't gone beyond Act 1 if you are playing, so just be aware.

In my first playthrough it was Karlach that I romanced, gods what a beautiful Devil. My character is a wood half-elf barbarian named Narriel. And she joined Karlach in Avernus when she had to return, so they look so badass in leather and everything!

Second playthrough, the beefcake and 'my heart' Halsin (no I did not do him in bear form, as tempting as it was, maybe on another run). I stuck with Narriel, (it's my fave name for a fantasy character okay?) as a wood half-elf cleric. This campaign is nearly there and I hate to see it go.

Third playthrough (I tried Astarian with another Tav but lord is that man difficult to please unless you are playing a bad guy) is with Gale. They are a non-binary wizard wood half-elf named Phoenix and they are stunning. I've just arrived in Baldur's Gate and so the final quests begin.

Fourth, I've started a Durge (Dark Urge) Playthrough, a White Dragonborn named Minerva, and it's going good so far for her (I'm not accepting The Urge, because I'm a simp for these characters and they don't like you doing bad shit). I've only completed the Grove so there is much more to go. I'm not quite sure who to romance yet, but I like that idea of Halsin saving her.

Possibly restarting Morgan's story (again, which sucks cause I played nearly 70 hours, realised Astarion was never gonna make a move based on a missing cutscene in Act 1, and now dedicated another 8 hours just to be frustrated) to go for Shadowheart instead, as being a tiefling makes it impossibly difficult for Act 1 to please Astarian without going against your own race, like damn. But also she's not that dark and Shadowheart is so easy to please, in most of my playthroughs she's tried to come on to me in the beginning, so I see how she was the most romanced.

Made a bard named Callon, he is (surprise) a wood half-elf who is starting off with the Lute. Going for Wyll the Blade of Frontiers because I watched Neil Newbon (Astarian's actor) play BG3 and invited the actor to speak about him, and it made me want to try! It's been adorable so far and I'm barely in it yet.

Made a character for fun named Nixie (based off of the All for One DnD YouTube series by Deerstalker Pictures), who is a pink tiefling sorcerer that loves casting firespells and is mischievous. We'll see where she takes us, but without that in mind I've decided to ignore her playthrough so far haha.

That leaves us with Lae'zel who I haven't decided a character for just yet, and Astarion who I need to reconsider for. As well as Minthara? I'm not sure what other companions can be romanced that aren't in the initial party, all I know is Minthara is easy for a Durge playthrough. I also think there was a possibility with Mizora? I don't know.

Send help.

[spirits-art-blog]

Redraws of some of my favorite Conan/Shinichi expressions so far! I'll likely be making more posts like this cus this show is filled with really good expressions and poses that I really want to draw. Honestly this show needs more moments like the ones above, its such a good visual gag.

For those who don't know, I'm watching this show completely blind so please keep spoilers out of this post; as of posting this, I have just finished ep 289.

Gonna get into some of my current thoughts and critiques in the read more cus I don't really want to make a separate text post so feel free to avoid all of that if you don't want to see it and I hope you enjoyed the art :)

Disclaimer: These critiques should be taken lightly as they don't really impede my enjoyment as overall the show is great! I just like to share my thoughts and ramble.

286-288 is actually kind of a good summary for some of the things I dislike about the show, like sorry if people like that case but Shinichi and Yukiko being there unfortunately did not make it less meh for me.

I usually try to keep in mind that shows like this weren't intended for an american/english-speaking audience but man, New York is such a bad setting for this show. Even if you ignore the actual voice acting, its jarring how the americans just, stop speaking english. I really wanna know what the bts situation was to make them decide that, like sure 3 episodes is a lot, but its hard to believe these new yorkers, besides 2 cops and a taxi driver, are speaking Japanese.

Other thoughts go to the end with the murderer of the case and the disguised killer. Not sure how to word this exactly but it kind of bothers me how this is, I think, the first time we've gotten a murderer who's backstory isn't about some misfortune that happened to them that was caused by the victim, like nah, she was just evil, and then later Shinichi and Ran stop a serial killer from falling to their death, like what? Especially with these two scenes practically being back to back, I just don't get why they did that. Idk just left a bad taste in my mouth.

Anyways on a lighter note, loved seeing Ran's thoughts throughout the episode, especially at the end, like I love internal conflict for characters, and it works for Ran as well since falling for that 'you helped cause this' fear is pretty consistent with her.

And lastly I wanna share some thoughts I've had about the show cus I don't know where to put them. That being said, I really wish they had some episodes early on that explored more of the dynamics between characters and Shinichi's transition into Conan. Like the idea of a rich 16-17 year old being stuck as a 6-7 year old who now lives with his not girlfriend and has to go back to first grade is such a dramatic change, no way that situation wasn't hard to get used to. Unfortunately, I'm more than far enough into this show to know they aren't going to do anything like that. And besides very small moments that spawned headcanons for me, there isn't much going on relationship wise either. After episode 3, the dynamics between the characters was set and hasn't really changed too much, which is a little sad imo.

I'll stop rambling for now, apologies with how discoherent this is, translating my thoughts into words has never been my strong suit.

[businesstiramisu]

@canyourfavesurvivecastledracula -- I'm trying out the "argue at you" approach. tagging you b/c you don't have submissions open and I think this long enough to be an annoying ask. I don't think you know or care about this character, but *I* do, so here's my argument :P

Can Alphonse Elric survive Castle Dracula?

[the answer depends a LOT on which part of which canon we're using, but we're going to go vaguely with "middle part". That is to say, armor]

Al has one HUGE advantage against Dracula, which is that he has no corporeal human body (for now). He's not completely free of blood though -- if Dracula learns about the blood seal tethering his soul to this mortal plane, I fully believe he's learned enough Dark Magicks at Scholomance to fuck it up. So the question is, would he find out? Al is usually pretty good at hiding it… unless he just decides to tell people. So it depends on how their dynamic plays out.

Al would accept the crucifix from the townsfolk, and listen to their other advice. Even if he doesn't believe them, he's a polite boy, and you never know what information might be useful! Maybe their folktales have clues about the Philosopher's Stone, you never know. (Also in one version of canon he can understand German, so let's say language barriers aren't an issue.)

Dracula is bemused when an alchemist in full plate armor turns up asking to see his library instead of the solicitor he requested. Alchemists? He hasn't run into any of those in a while. But hey, the lawyer's not here yet, he's got time to fuck with this guy and have an extra snack.

The shaving incident wouldn't happen obviously, but Dracula might realize something is amiss because Al doesn't sleep. Or will he? Does Dracula pay enough attention to know when normal humans should be sleeping and Al isn't? If so, he will probably investigate, push boundaries, or stage a confrontation until he finds out Al's deal, and then he will be PISSED. No lawyer, and now no snack! This is bullshit! From here on out, it's WAR. If not, then...

If Al realizes this is a kidnapping and not a library loan, he will play along. He might not even mind. He's been kidnapped before, and it always worked out fine. Dracula might be more creepy and threatening than his other kidnappers, but Al's dealt with a wide variety of creepy and threatening in his quest, I just don't think he'd be fazed. And he is, as already mentioned, a polite person who would want to be a respectful guest! Hmm kinda creepy that he just implied I'll never leave this place alive... oh well! Nice table setting, sir, compliments to your staff.

Being a respectful guest might not extend to staying in his room as instructed; he's a curious guy and only a stickler for the rules compared to his brother. The girlies aren't a problem for him, because he's still wearing the crucifix, but they might clue him in that Something Is Wrong and lead to Al himself forcing a confrontation with Dracula.

But even if everything goes smoothly, Al would eventually get bored with Dracula's library (if there was anything useful about the Philosopher's Stone in there, Dracula wouldn't be a vampire). At some point, Al would decide this kidnapping is over, and he would provoke the confrontation in trying to leave.

I haven't written any reason for Al to tell Dracula about his fatal weakness, so I'm gonna say Dracula can't actually do much to Al; but unfortunately I don't think Al can harm Dracula either. I don't actually remember what allowed Jonathan to hit him with a shovel but I think it involved special circumstances that do not apply to Al. However, Dracula also can't prevent Al from leaving -- neither thousand foot cliffs nor wolves are much of an obstacle to him. (Well actually, if you physically overpower him and take the armor apart, he can't walk away -- but people almost never think of that, and Dracula probably won't either.)

Which is all to say that Alphonse can survive Castle Dracula, but he probably won't have as much useful intel as Jonathan did. Mind you, he took notes! He just didn't get personal experience with as many of Dracula's powers.

And of course, his goal after this is to track down his brother -- if anyone can figure out how to kill a vampire it's Ed. Where the fuck did he get to, anyways? He'd better not be stranded in Weimar Germany. Al can absolutely walk to Munich from here, but waiting around 25-30 years for Ed to turn up would be a drag.

[mins-fins]

LOVER (K.GV)

SUMMARY . . . where they're supposed to be packing but one of them has other plans.

PAIRING . . . kim gyuvin x male!reader

GENRE . . . very fluffy

WARNINGS . . . none!

WORD COUNT . . . 1.2k

NOTES . . . gyuvin is seriously bias wrecking me these days fr.. this is dedicated to zai (@scrrra), he didn't really ask for this but i just wanna make his day!! also were all starving for gyuvin content so take this

"your literally so messy".

"your acting like your any better, dumbass".

gyuvin gasps loudly, as if offended by the words. y/n just chuckles at his display, turning around to stare at his tall boyfriend, who pouts. "i'm just saying, your going to college you don't need all this stuff!"

"yeah, i'm going to college" y/n states like a matter of a fact. "i need everything".

"everything?"

"everything".

gyuvin blinks, narrowing his eyes and giving his partner a judging stare. y/n lightly punches his shoulder, and gyuvin sighs. "okay! okay! you can pack everything".

y/n was originally gonna pack on his own, he didn't really even want help, but gyuvin insisted on helping, and wouldn't take no for an answer. since y/n had procrastinated for super long and now college starts in two weeks and he hasn't even packed half his stuff yet.

he has maybe one box packed, and he was only reminded of it today when hanbin screamed in his ears with a megaphone telling him that he starts college in two weeks.

so now, here y/n is, trying his best to decide what to pack as gyuvin just looks at his stuff, seeing what he could find. "you have so many books! where do you even keep these?"

"in my shelves, obviously".

"your room is the size of a cubicle, what shelves?"

y/n scoffs, still looking away from gyuvin as he sorts his clothes in one box and then his pillows, blankets, and bedsheets in another. his attention quickly moves away from gyuvin, whose actually not helping him pack.

gyuvin had been in y/n's room maybe twice in the whole time they've been dating. to be fair, they're always out, doing couple things like buying ice cream at three am, or shopping for sweaters just so y/n could steal them from him, or running across the beach at night.

they're usually never inside, just always out and about.

gyuvin scrunches his nose, staring specifically hard at a random drawer besides y/n's bed. he blinks, looking over at his partner, whose busy trying to figure out how much stuff he can fit in one box, completely turned away from gyuvin.

he opens the drawer, trying to see what's inside. pens, pencils, notebooks, binders, some more books, and a few post it notes. just boring stuff, gyuvin thinks in his head.

he sighs, packing those things in the box beside him, he notices that there are still other things in that drawer, letters, and he tilts his head, trying to get a better look at them.

wait.. are those the letters i wrote for him?

earlier in the year, gyuvin had written letters for y/n, it was a thing he did when they were in the much earlier stages of their relationship, he really did pout his heart and soul into those letters, but he assumed y/n had forgotten about them.

but he kept them, like the corny loser he is.

gyuvin smiles as he thinks about it, laughing to himself. y/n was pretty much oblivious to what gyuvin had stumbled upon, busy trying to figure out how he's gonna put all his extension cords together without tangling them.

gyuvin's mind drifts off to the situation, college, and it puts a sour taste in his mouth. y/n is on the other side of this small room packing, and he's oblivious to what gyuvin is thinking.

yeah they're going to the same college, but y/n is going to get busier, and they can't just be a silly teenage couple anymore, they can't just go out buying ice cream at three in the morning, or gyuvin giving y/n piggyback rides randomly.

he moves the letters over, and sees other things, keychains, small fans, a tape measure(?), shoe laces, a polaroid camera, and a photo album. gyuvin tilts his head, reaching into the drawer to grab the photo album.

he struggles to take it out without making a lot of noise, he's not trying to alert y/n and distract him. he places it on the floor, getting the letters out of the drawer and placing them on the table beside the bed.

he then moves back to the photo album, he's not snooping, no! he's just curious, that's all! that's why he's flipping through the photo album right now. as gyuvin does that, he can't control his smile, because it's a bunch of photos which show y/n growing up.

gyuvin assumes that these photos were taken by his parents, y/n's father was a photographer after all. gyuvin couldn't contain his giggles, because y/n's childhood photos are so funny and cute that he can't help it.

y/n, who was busy packing, turns around as he hears gyuvin giggling, and all he can see is his boyfriend struggling to contain his laugh, looking like he was about to fall back onto the floor with how hard he was laughing. "what's so funny?"

gyuvin tries his best to catch his breath, clearing his throat as he stares at y/n, who blinks. gyuvin, still laughing, turns the album over and displays the photo of seven year old y/n wearing his roller skating attire.

y/n narrows his eyes, and then they widen. gyuvin is horrible at keeping his giggles in, and he leans back as he laughs, completely enamored by the cute childhood photo of his boyfriend.

"you weren't even helping me pack" y/n goes over to him, looking at the photo album. "you were just going through my stuff".

"hey!" gyuvin yells, literally on the floor. "i wasn't going through your stuff, i did pack some stuff, i just for distracted easily!" he laughs, propping himself up on his elbows.

y/n reaches forward to try and grab the photo album, but gyuvin quickly moves his arm before he can grab it. he pauses, and gyuvin smiles in a mischievous manner, giggling. "give it back".

"no?"

"what do you mean no—"

y/n reaches so forward again, and falls forward, on top of gyuvin. "you are such an.. ass".

"no, you love me" gyuvin says, picking up his head to stare at y/n, smiling. "your so cute, you know that? the roller skates might've been a little big on you but—"

"shut up!" y/n exclaims, flicking gyuvin in his forehead, which makes him yelp. finally, he grabs the photo album out of gyuvin's hand, taking it for himself. "your annoying, i swear".

"i called you cute, your not even gonna say thank you?"

"i'll thank you when you actually help me pack".

"i did! i packed.. that!"

y/n deadpans at him, and gyuvin giggles, making him scoff. "babe! i love you! you know that right?" he calls out as y/n walks over to the other side of the room, placing the photo album on a table.

"you can say that after you pack".

gyuvin stares at y/n, snickering as his partner also flips through the photo album. "you kept those letters i sent you?"

y/n gasps, turning gyuvin's way and seeing the shit-eating grin on his face. "gyuvin!"

"hey! i'm just asking!"

[that-local-cryptid]

male helldiver x illuminate (wip/concept)

If I'm going to hell, might as well do it in style.

This idea hasn't left my mind since the day the illuminate were added, so here is the beginning of what might at some point become a whole story (if i have to motivation for it lmao)

Minors DNI, gay sex (or at least the lead up to it), voyeuristic alien

Being a helldiver has never been easy. 

There are of course a variety of reasons for this, one of which is that the job is simply dangerous as hell (pun slightly intended). Fighting against giant mutated alien bugs (who spit at you or try to crush you) or the unholy union of computer and gun (who mainly, well, shoot at you with in-build aimbot) isn't easy, but at least they rarely make it to super earth. The same cannot be said for the illuminate, a dangerous faction of aliens with a giant fleet and insanely advanced technology (they also shoot you, but with plasma and lasers - ouch).

Since they managed to reach the home world it means that, aside from very few exceptions, all helldivers are called on to push back against the gigantic fleet currently invading super earth. Unfortunately, you are one of those helldivers. 

Meaning you are sent into the cities for missions, trying very hard to kill illuminate, while at the same time not dying against foes that can easily level buildings. Which gets way harder if you happen to be inside a building while it collapses. 

The reason you were in that building in the first place has to do with another, more subjective, hardship of being a helldiver. That is, it's terribly hard to get laid. 

Constantly being sent from mission to mission, getting cryo-frozen during transport, and co-workers constantly dying make it hard to find the time for it. The fact that you'd have to both fill out a form for it and wait for permission to be granted doesn't help that process, but you've heard of the punishments they dish out if you get caught unlawfully fucking, and you decided a long time ago that it wouldn't be worth it just to get your dick wet or your cheeks clapped. And you held steadfast in that belief... 

At least until today. 

Maybe it's the fact that you already had to call for reinforcements five times. 

Maybe it's that you too could die any second now during this war. 

Maybe it’s the stims slowly melting your brain. 

Maybe it's just been too damn long. 

Maybe the handsome SEAF trooper making a pass on you was too good of an opportunity to turn down, even if it is a huge risk.

So when he walked up to you as you were opening a rescue pod (super credits, nice) all stars-in-his-eyes and trying his best not to look completely like a desperate puppy, you decide that maybe you could use a little hero worship today. 

He leads you into a building close by, a furniture store, where he pulls a mattress onto the floor, while you take off your helmet and weapons, and guides you onto your hands and knees, back turned towards him. 

The last bits of doubt are removed from your mind once he pulls down your pants and shoves his face against your ass with the enthusiasm of a pyromaniac using his flamethrower to torch bugs. You can't do much more than hold on and shove your face against the mattress as he makes out with your hole, starting to stretch you out with his tongue and fingers, preparing you for the real deal.

If you didn't have your helmet off and your brain cells weren't completely overwhelmed by receiving sexual touches of another human for first time in who knows how long, perhaps you'd have noticed the alert that your mission has failed, evac is gonna leave soon, and the city you are currently waiting to get fucked in is about to fall into the hands of the enemy. Or at the very least you would have noticed the elevated overseer a little sooner. 

Not that it (he?) is doing more than hovering above the ground on the other side of the street. Neither moving, nor attacking, but simply watching you. As you make eye contact (as much as you can when your opposite's wearing a helmet) you start feeling a foreign sensation, a fog invading your mind, as if something's reaching into your head trying to feel up your brain. Combined with the constant pleasure shooting up your spine it creates a hazy sort of awareness that leaves you panting and moaning, but unable to look away. 

The feeling is suddenly broken when your eyes roll into the back of your skull, courtesy of the fingers in your ass finally finding that wonderful bundle of nerves called the prostate. Once your eyes are able to focus again, the strange illuminate slowly tilts it's (his??) head and you're starting to wonder how long it (he???) has been observing you for. (And for what reason?)

Just as the guy behind you pulls out his fingers, finally deeming you ready for the real deal, there's the somewhat close sound of an explosion, followed by a much closer sound of something crashing into the building, followed by the sounds of a building collapsing all around you.

[sarthakischill]

Hi,

It's been a long time since the last post, Thank you reader for sticking with me for the last few months.

(Breaths Deeply) The last time I wrote it was November, A lot has happened, lot has changed in the last 4 months, and I assure you the vibes are going to be completely different this post.

I've thought about why i didn't write something to post, Why didn't I? I pushed myself at times, I must've written "Write" Hundreds of times as a message to myself on WhatsApp, instagram, in my every diary, sticky notes, and on the soft board beside my table, but I couldn't, I didn't.

Doesn't mean i didn't write, I did but it's like I journaled, I didn't write something that I would wanna share, considered how much there was to share.

People being the most of it, followed by significant incidents, achievements, Memories and Adventures.I convinced myself with a few thoughtful reasons i didn't write a post to share,

One of the reasons being that I posted when I had something unsaid, i wanted the few readers to read and know. I was unheard and this was my place to be heard.

I didn't post here because I was being heard by people who mattered the most , there's rarely something that goes unsaid and just dumps into my mind.

Bare in mind that this is what I thought untill January, but obviously it was just an excuse, there was always so much to write, and share, I shouldn't be doing this just to share which is unsaid. I'm here for myself, and these posts are mostly for me, I do come back every now and then and read them from the start, like I read my journal, helps understand the timeline, the change, the progress and the failure.

I'd say to my future self that I'm sorry I hadn't written in a while, I was trying to participate. And I tried writing but there was so much to write that I gave up, I won't again.

So, From october my life has changed a lot, New people came into my life, the old ones got closer and some left, abruptly even, they know who they are, the ones who give up so easily, even after constant efforts, they couldn't do the bare minimum of 'Staying', People found reasons, with some it felt inevitable, with some it was dissapointing, Frustrating at times. My friend atharva va says, "They'll stay if they want" and he's right so I'll do my part and leave this be, but I will write about each one of them, I'll let em know.

I promised the vibes are gonna be different. So, i found people, who's vibe matched with me, who respected and cared as I did, I'd say Genuine people, who are very similar to what they seem or pretend to be, and not some entitled, uncourageous, childish delusional, evil fucks.

The fact that college was about to end allowed me to do a lot of things, and I'd say I never expected life to be so happening suddenly. It's natural human behaviour to act at the precipice of something. The things i decided never to be a part of, things I never wanted to do but I did enjoy them and many firsts.

The countless late night rides, meals and desserts, the shopping, eating street food, the singing and dancing, the binge watching together, the injuries and adventures. Ohhh I'll remember these days, and so I'll share them here. The most shocking of them all was Her. Something i never expected would happen. She deserves much more than a part of a post, and she'll get it.

Sorry, If you read till here, I'm not gonna say anything else right now, I'll do soon enough. I'll just rewatch The perks of being a wallflower and listen to Charlie's last letter for the 100th time, shut my eyes thinking about life that I'm about to live influenced by the life I have lived, and probably fall asleep, hoping that I wake up dreaming, ohh dreaming, something that hasn't happened in almost 10 years, I've forgot how it feels.

Untill next time,

Sarthak :)

[mytragedyperson]

hii! i need a I get this out of my mind, so anyways imaging bakudeku (mha) to heartless by Kanye west 😩 something about it just makes me think about their dynamic and I love it

OK yeah I get that completely and, while I can hear it from both POVs, some elements are just Bakugou to me. So let's get into it

- as an AU after Bakugou tells Midoriya to jump off a roof and hope for a quirk in a next life or whatever it is he says along those lines, and after he meets All Might, he basically wakes up and realises how poorly he's been treated. He tells his mum and decides he wants to transfer school's which he does do.

- here he makes a friend, one shinsou Hitoshi, a kid who's bullied for having a villain quirk

- so we have midoriya, who admires or is fascinated by all quirks and heroes and so isn't scared of Shinsou, and Shinsou who has never had someone treat him kindly

- Midoriya helps Shinsou train for UA so they both get in the hero course. He uses his analysis to help Shinsou find a fighting style he can work with and they learn together

- Shinsou is the first to believe or at least tell him he doesn't need a quirk to be a hero and basically helps him build up his self esteem

- so when Deku gets to UA he's slightly more confident

He also decides to just ignore Bakugou and acts like he never knew him

Bakugou does not take this well but he's not as angry about Deku being there in general, he's still annoyed he has a quirk, but more than anything he's angry that he left, just transferred schools without a word. He hasn't quite accepted yet that that is on him in a way so he's mad at Deku

Especially because without Deku he was actually quite lonely

And then Deku has a friend in Shinsou which makes Bakugou quite jealous

so they still have their rivalry

and then at some point, quite by accident and without noticing, they start to become friends, or as close to that as Bakugou can have at this point. They talk out their issues, Bakugou finally acknowledges and takes responsibility for his own actions of mistreating Midoriya, and he acknowledges and truly realises how wrong what he said to Midoriya about jumping off the roof was

Also, yes, when one of them wakes up from a nightmare at 3 am they do call the other . They've known each other longer than anyone else, been through serious shit, know things about each other their other classmates don't. This causes a strange kind of trust where, even if they don't get along, they know they can call the other

Bakugou still has issues and still falls back into old patterns because it's hard to learn that but he's trying and he does grow to see Midoriya (and some of their other classmates) as equals.

Also Shinsou knows Deku used to be quirkless, was bullied by Bakugou and got All Might's quirk. So, he's not the biggest fan of Bakugou and doesn't fully approve of him and Midoriya's budding friendship. He's a protective friend.

The dekusquad (minus maybe Todoroki, who may ot may not understand the big deal) are also kinda cautious due to how Bakugou treats Midoriya at first.

But, as he makes steps to improve and become a better person and hero (he doesn't want to be like Endeavour, he still overheard Todoroki and Deku's conversation), the Dekusaquad slowly start to warm up to him.

Shinsou still doesn't because he knows how bad the bullying was but Deku swears him to secrecy, mainly to help protect the secret of him having All Might's quirk at first.

Look I'll be real with you, I like redemption but it's not gonna easy. This is Bakugou. Bakugou is a lot of things and prideful is the biggest one. Somehow he also manages to be insecure (maybe not the right word but I feel like, despite acting strong, he often feels weak, and when he feels particularly weak (like after he was kidnapped by the League), he tends to lash out. There's also his need to be the best, because it's expected of him, because he has a strong quirk and, for a long time, he was the strongest, the most powerful of his peers. The big fish in a small pond effect but not entirely because his quirk is powerful and he doesn't just rely on his quirk. He thinks things through

And Deku, in some ways, is easy to lash out at, especially now that he pushes back

And in a weird way he grows to respect Deku for that, for pushing back

This turned into a slight tangent but, yeah, I definitely can see this as Heartless.

To me, it is fitting

Deku kinda wishing he could just leave this toxic friendship and managing to

Honestly "you know some things but that's the old me" could be true for either depending on the situation, either Deku becoming more confident and standing up for himself or Bakugou slowly changing and becoming a better person

Also, the thing that actually made me think of Bakugou was "You got a new friend, well, i get homies / but in the end it's still so lonely" because Bakugou isn't dumb. He knows his middle school friends are only really hanging out with him for his quirk, Izuku was the only one that didn't, not in the same way or not fully at least.

It's definitely them early on in UA. I do imagine as they grow as people and heroes they become friends but that's admittedly because I love a happy ending where everyone is friends, not always possible, but in this case, after a lot of apologies, self-imporvement and probably therapy, I think they could make it work, unlike in the song

Editing this because I had another thought and that thought was this is just villain or maybe not villain but not a hero either Deku. This becoming his attitude towards society and Bakugou. Maybe Deku can't help but reach out to Bakugou when something happens at UA while he's attending and Bakugou answers and, against their better judgment, they actually talk but nothing ever changes

Edit: Feel free to request a song and any character or ship (platonic, romantic or any other relationship) and ill do the same for that. My asks are open. You can also request for other fandoms in my pinned post

[waywardxrhea]

Part Forty-Five: See You in a Minute

[slow burn romance between Steve Rogers and SHIELD agent Emma Baker]

Warnings: 18+, contains humor, fluff, mental health, family trauma, romance, angst, language, violence.

installment list

Word count: 3.8k

The Time Heist project is officially underway, but Bruce needs a guinea pig to test it out.

The next morning, Emma is running the final time machine parts for Tony and Rocket when she decides to take a breather for five minutes. While wandering she finds the others in a lab creating the suits they'll use for the time travel trip. Curiously, she asks, "You guys have a test subject yet?"

Bruce shakes his head and says, "We did but Scott here kinda, well..."

"I messed up," Scott admits quickly. "So we need someone else to test it out."

"Could I?" Emma asks. Ever since Tony came in with the working idea for the time machine, she hasn't been able to shake an idea out of her head that she can only accomplish if she can go back in time herself.

Natasha looks at her and says, "Steve would never let you test something as potentially dangerous as this Emma."

"So keep him distracted while I'm gone. I already have a time and place in mind."

"Sounds like her mind's made up," Clint tells Nat as he walks up to the group. He offers a small smile to Emma as he says, "I say let her take it."

Natasha sighs and says, "Fine, I'll make sure Steve stays busy until you're back." She hugs Emma and tells her, "Stay safe and get back in one piece, you hear?"

"You got it," Emma replies with a nod. "I need to grab something to change into real quick, I'll be right back," she tells Bruce before running off to the medical wing of the Compound.

When Emma comes back to the area to change into the suit, Clint pulls her aside to talk. He sees the scrubs and remembers her all those years ago telling him about her grandmother. Upon realizing where her mind might be at, he asks quietly, "You're going back to see your grandma aren't you?"

"Yeah, I...I wasn't there the day she passed and I've felt so much guilt and regret almost every day since. I need to see her even if it means I'm in a disguise," she tells him.

"I get it," Clint replies and pats her shoulder. "I was coming in here myself to volunteer so I could see my kids one more time just in case this crazy plan doesn't work."

"Oh, well if you want to go, don't let me get in the way, Clint. I know how much your family means to you," Emma tells him, feeling suddenly guilty for taking up the guinea pig spot.

"No, no, this is all you, Emma. If this plan works, I get my family back. This trip through time won't bring her back to you though so the spot's yours."

"Thank you, Clint," Emma says and gives him a hug.

Tears start to fall down her cheeks and Clint tells her, "Here, I'll bring you the suit. You get yourself calmed down and ready for this trip."

Emma nods and focuses on calming herself down as he brings the suit for her to put on. When she has it on, she emerges back to where the others are, asking Bruce, "So what's the plan here?"

"Just like with Scott, we're gonna send you back for a little while and then bring you right back. It'll be a max of a few seconds our time. Got it?"

"Got it. How long will I be on the other side?"

"Well since this is just a test it won't be too long, so if you have a plan make it quick. Also if you can try and bring something back so that we can make sure that you and whatever you're carrying will make it back intact," he tells her.

Emma nods and takes a deep breath. "I'm ready to go," she says.

Rhodes speaks up and tells Bruce, "Let's head to the hangar before Steve finds out what's up. I have a feeling he isn't gonna be happy with her going, Bruce."

"Fine, let's walk and talk."

"So are there any like...rules I have to follow while I'm doing this?" Emma asks.

"Rules?"

Scott speaks up and says, "Yeah you know so she doesn't completely change the future."

"Yeah, the whole butterfly effect thing," Rhodes agrees.

"Butterfly eff- no, no," Bruce mumbles. "Changing the past won't change the future guys."

"But if we go back and get the stones before Thanos does then he doesn't get them and he can't snap his fingers. Problem solved right?" Scott asks.

"Bingo," Clint agrees.

Nebula speaks up, telling them all, "That isn't how it works..."

"Well, that's what we all heard," Clint says.

"What? By who? Who told you that?" Bruce asks.

Rhodes starts naming off movies, saying, "Star Trek, Terminator, Timecop."

Emma piggybacks, adding, "Time After Time, A Wrinkle In Time."

Scott nods and continues with, "Quantum Leap, Somewhere In Time."

The three of them look at each other and laugh as they say together, "Hot Tub Time Machine!"

Rhodes ends the statement with, "Basically any movie ever that has dealt with time travel says that if you change the past, the future changes."

Bruce shakes his head, telling them, "I don't know why everyone believes that but it isn't true. Think about it: if you travel to the past, that past becomes your future and your former present becomes your past. You can't change that new past by doing something in your new future!"

"Exactly," Nebula mumbles as they reach the doors to the hangar.

Scott is rendered speechless for a second before asking, "So Back to the Future is a bunch of bullshit?"

"It's starting to seem that way huh?" Emma asks as she tries to wrap her mind around what she was just told. She decides not to worry too much about it though knowing that she won't be changing the future by accident with whatever she does on this trip.

When Tony sees Emma in the suit, he says, "Spangles isn't gonna like this."

"That's what we said, but she's dead set on going," Rhodes tells him as Emma walks up the ramp and onto the machine's platform.

"I'm a grown woman and can make my own decisions guys, now let's get this over with," Emma tells them.

"So what now?" she calls to Bruce once in position.

"Just give me the time, date, and coordinates and we'll be on our way. Good luck Emma." After Bruce says this, he is echoed by a chorus of others wishing her luck on the trip.

Emma tells him the details and takes a deep breath as he hits the buttons on the machine to activate it. Without any warning, she's swept into space and time, being tossed around like a ragdoll until she is dropped into the middle of her desired location: Grammie's retirement home.

Knowing that she's operating on borrowed time, Emma quickly hits the button to make the suit disappear so she's only wearing the scrubs she put on before she left. She disregards the discombobulation from the trip and grabs a mask out of the pocket of the scrubs to hide her face before throwing her hair up and making her way to Grammie's room.

Once at the door, Emma takes a deep breath and knocks. She hears a faint, "Come in," and is almost in tears hearing her grandmother's voice for the first time in person in years.

"Hello Ms. Carsons, how are you today?" Emma asks as she walks in, grabbing the clipboard posted by the door.

"Oh hello, I don't quite recognize you, young lady, are you new here?" Grammie asks.

"I am, yes," Emma replies quietly.

"Oh I love meeting the new nurses, could you take down the mask so I can properly meet you, sweetie?"

"I can't do that, I'm sorry. Admin just told us that there have been some bad cases of the flu going around and they tell us we can't be too cautious."

After hearing Emma speak in length, a look of recognition hits Grammie and she says, "No, Emma, you can."

Panicking, Emma says, "Oh I'm sorry, ma'am, my name is Natasha, perhaps you're mistaking me for someone else?"

"Emma Baker, I may be old and on my last leg, but I know my grandbaby's voice anywhere. You just...you look a bit different. Has work been stressing you out? Is everything okay honey?"

Emma tears up and takes off the mask to reveal herself to Grammie. She nods and smiles, saying, "Work has been pretty stressful, yeah, but I just wanted to swing by and talk to you before I have to head back to DC."

Grammie smiles at Emma with pride in her eyes and tells her, "I'm so proud of you Emma." She pauses to catch her breath and adds, "And I love you. To the moon and back."

"To the moon and back," Emma says, trying to keep her voice steady as she checks the clock and knows that Grammie's time is coming. She sits in a chair beside the bed, grabs Grammie's hand, and asks, "Hey Grammie, do you think I could finally have that necklace of yours? The one that your mom got for you when you married Gramps?"

"Oh honey, you know that's for when you get married." In response, Emma squeezes her hand and brings her attention to the ring adorning her finger. Once Grammie sees the beautiful ring, she smiles from ear to ear, saying, "Well isn't that lovely? You never told me about this young man, do I know him?" After she says this, she leans up and takes off the necklace to hand to Emma.

"Not personally no," Emma tells her as she grips the necklace in her other hand after it's given to her. "I met him at work. He's super sweet, kind, caring, loving, and supportive. He means the world to me."

"Well I'm glad-" Grammie is then cut off by a coughing fit for a few seconds. After the fit is over and she gains her breath back, she continues with, "I'm glad that you finally found someone who treats you right. You'll have to bring him by sometime so I can meet him."

"I will, Grammie," Emma replies quietly. She makes note of the time again and can tell that she is fading away fast, so she quickly adds in, "I love you. Across the universe and back."

"Across the universe? That's a good amount."

"Because that's how much I love you," Emma tells her, looking into her beautiful green eyes one last time.

"And I love you that much and more, sweetie." Right as she says this, Grammie's vitals begin to fade out and her grip on Emma's hand loosens as she passes away with a very peaceful look on her face. Emma knew they reported that her death was sudden, but she didn't realize how true that was until that very moment.

She finally lets the tears fall freely from her eyes as she grips Grammie's hand in one of hers and the necklace in the other. Without another moment to be with Grammie, just as suddenly as she was brought there, Emma is swept back into space and time before being tossed back onto the floor of the time machine in the present day. Not having the mental or physical strength to stand up after that trip, Emma just lays down on the platform and lets her tears fall.

Scott quickly runs up and asks, "What happened?"

This is followed by Clint asking "Are you okay?"

Bruce butts in with, "More importantly, did it work?"

Before Emma can respond to any of the questions, Steve comes into the area followed closely by Natasha who says, "Sorry, I tried to keep him distracted, but he could hear the machine working."

Steve spots Emma and quickly runs up the steps to be beside her, putting an arm around her and pulling her into his lap. He asks Bruce, "Why the hell did you let her go?"

Emma doesn't give Bruce time to respond, instead telling Steve herself, "I wanted to go, Steve. I needed to go."

"Sweetheart you could have gotten hurt or lost in time," he mumbles into her hair, trying not to let the thought of potentially losing her get to him.

"That was a risk I was willing to take," she tells him quietly. She then speaks louder and holds up the necklace, "After all, it worked." The others all smile at the words and success before Natasha ushers them all away, sensing that Emma needed some time alone with Steve after what happened.

"Is that...?" Steve asks, looking at the necklace. He recognizes it from pictures around the lodge.

Emma nods and replies, "Grammie's necklace, the one she promised me for my wedding day. She was buried with it, so when I went back to be with her one last time, I asked her for it."

Steve pulls Emma close and asks, "Well how did all of that go?"

Emma takes a deep breath and says, "It was nice actually. I always regretted that I was in DC working when she passed, so I'm glad I got to speak with her one last time." She then pauses and sighs, saying, "She...she died while I was there."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, Emma," Steve tells her.

"It's okay. That's why I went to that exact day and time. I wanted to be there so she didn't have to face her last moments alone."

"You're an amazing woman, Emma Baker," Steve tells her and kisses her forehead.

Emma smiles weakly and puts the necklace on along with the one that holds Sam and Steve's dog tags. "Soon to be Emma Rogers," she tells him and turns her face to kiss him.

"I can't wait," Steve mumbles before kissing her once more.

Out of nowhere, Tony reappears and asks, "Are you two love birds done here? After that success, I think it's time to start brainstorming a plan to get these stones and half the population of the universe back. No rush or anything."

"On it," Steve calls back, helping Emma to her feet so they can meet with everyone else to start brainstorming ideas to get the stones and bring everyone back.

Emma tells Steve that she needs to grab something to eat real quick after that little adventure, but tells him to go ahead to the meeting room. Once she arrives in the conference room with some orange slices, Steve commences the brainstorming session. "So we know that the machine works. Now what we need to do is figure out what time we need to go to and where to go in order to get the stones. Almost everyone in here has had an encounter with the stones-"

Steve is interrupted by Tony saying, "Well we can also substitute 'encounter' with damn near died because of any one of them."

"I haven't," Scott says. "I honestly don't even know what the hell you guys are talking about."

Bruce speaks up after this, saying, "Regardless of knowledge of the stones, we only have enough Pym Particles for one round trip each and even then that's leaving one of us out. These stones have been in a lot of different places over a lot of different years."

Emma asks, "There really aren't a lot of convenient places to drop in, are there then?"

"That just means we have to pick our targets carefully," Clint tells her.

"Well let's start with the Aether," Steve says. He turns to Thor and asks, "Thor, what do you know?"

When he doesn't get a response, Nat asks, "Is he asleep?"

"No, I'm pretty sure he's dead..." Rhodes sighs.

"Here, I got this," Emma says while standing up and walking a few feet to where Thor is sitting. She waves the strongly scented orange under his nose in hopes of waking him up. "Hey Thor, we need some help here. If you could wake up that would be great," she says quietly to him. Ever since Bruce and Rocket brought Thor back to the Compound, she's tried to be gentle with him, knowing that he hasn't dealt with his trauma as well as some of the rest of them had through the years.

The smell of the orange rouses Thor and he mumbles, "Are we making drinks?"

"No, we just need some of your knowledge of the Aether," Emma tells him.

"Right, where to start," he says while suddenly standing up and stumbling for a second. "The Aether, first of all, isn't a stone. Someone called it a stone before... It's more of an angry sludge, so someone's gonna need to amend that."

"Angry sludge, got it," Scott mumbles thoughtfully.

"Here's an interesting story about the Aether. My grandfather, many years ago, had to hide it from the Dark Elves. Scary beings. So Jane, actually...do you guys remember Jane? Here she is." He pulls up a picture of Jane Foster on the screen and gets emotional mentioning her.

"Oh come on, we need to get a move on," Tony mumbles.

Emma shoots him a look and whispers, "He's dealing with things differently than you, Stark, let him be."

Tony disregards her and stands up to stop Thor from talking, asking him, "Do you want eggs? Breakfast? Anything?"

"No, I'd like a Bloody Mary," Thor counters.

"I'll go get some food for everyone," Emma says, trying to be helpful and make the meeting run smoothly. "Someone text me what everyone wants and patch me in on my tablet so I can listen in while I'm gone."

"You got it," Natasha calls and grabs a tablet to patch her in while Steve starts passing his phone around to text everyone's food orders to Emma.

Later while Emma passes out food, Rocket discusses the Power Stone and where one of his teammates Peter Quill found it originally. After hearing this, Emma starts trying to do some research in any database she can find about all the places being mentioned. Soon after, Natasha comes over to her with another place to look for called Vormir.

The two of them sit on one end of the room while Steve and Rhodes stand on the other discussing the Tesseract. "So tell me again what happened to the Tesseract the first time you saw it?" Rhodes asks Steve.

"It was on the plane with me when I crashed it into the Arctic," Steve tells him. "It might have fallen out. There was a lot going on that day."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask, why did you have to crash the plane?"

Steve sighs and says, "Bombs on board..."

"Bombs on board," Rhodes replies with a nod. He then asks, "And you couldn't have just jumped out of the plane before you crashed it?"

Steve opens his mouth to reply, but as he turns his head to Rhodes, he sees Emma in the background fidgeting with her engagement ring absentmindedly. He smiles at the scene and replies with, "Well I think everything happens for a reason..."

A few more hours of racking each other's brains pass before there is a solid plan made up to successfully pull off this Time Heist. Before gathering everyone back together, Steve approaches Emma and asks, "Hey, can I talk with you?"

"Of course," Emma replies as she follows him out and into the hall. "What's up?"

"Well as you know we only have so many Pym Particles to go around for this mission so we need to have someone stay back and make sure things don't go awry on this side of time..."

"And you want me to stay back, don't you?"

Steve nods while taking Emma's hands in his, telling her, "It's not that I don't want you involved, I promise. It just scared me so bad when I saw that you were the test subject earlier and I just can't stand the thought of possibly sending you off to some far-off planet in a completely different time than me where I can't protect you. I just-"

Emma cuts him off by kissing him quickly before saying, "Steve, love, I understand. I went behind your back earlier and I'm really sorry about that, I just needed closure with Grammie. If you don't want me to go on a team for the Time Heist, that's okay. I feel as though I contributed enough already with the test run anyways." She laughs at the last part before squeezing Steve's hands in hers. "You just have to promise me that you'll stay safe okay? I don't know what I'd do without you..."

"I promise I'll be safe," Steve replies. He quickly pulls Emma into a hug and has the same feeling of anxiety he did that day Thanos snapped, dreading the thought of leaving her due to something going wrong in the mission.

Natasha peeks her head out the door and asks, "You two coming?" When she asks this, Steve and Emma let go of each other and he subtly clears his throat from the emotions building up before telling her that they'll be right there. 

When they get into the conference room, Steve goes into captain mode, informing everyone, "So we have six stones, three teams, and one shot at this, got it? Five years ago we lost, all of us. We lost friends. We lost family. We lost a part of us. Today we have a chance to bring it all back. Thor and Rocket, you two are heading to Asgard in 2013 for the Aether. Rhodey and Nebula you're heading to Morag in 2014 for the Power Stone. Clint and Natasha are going to Vormir for the Soul Stone in the same year. Finally, myself, Scott, Bruce, and Tony are going back to 2012 for the Time Stone, the Space Stone, and the Mind Stone in New York. Look out for each other all right? This is the fight of our lives and we're gonna win. Whatever it takes."

Everyone nods in determination, all hopeful for the first time in years. As they walk to the hangar, Bruce gives Emma a crash course on how to handle the basic controls of the machine for if something goes wrong in the few seconds they're all gone.

Before Steve gets suited up and onto the machine, Emma pulls him aside to hug him before they depart. "Oh you'll see him again in no time," Natasha teases her.

"I just worry," Emma admits quietly. With this anxiety building up, Emma hears for the first time in years, the soft instrumental music coming from her earpieces that calms her down a bit. Once she gathers herself, she turns to Natasha and gives her a hug, saying, "You get back here safe okay? We still need your help with flower arrangements for the wedding."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Natasha mumbles as she hugs Emma back.

Everyone gathers on the time machine and Emma follows Bruce's instructions on how to get the machine functioning. "Good luck everyone!" she shouts before she hits the final buttons.

"See you in a minute," Natasha calls back with a smirk before they all disappear into time and space.

a/n: and now we ask ourselves this - will Brooke deviate from canon or stay true? only time will tell (aka 24 hours, there was more suspense when I was uploading weekly on the other app lol)

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