#dick: and still beautiful. and sad. and sees himself as damaged even though he's so amazing and shit shit shit i'm doomed

[gerryrigged]

okay but following up on this gorgeous art and potential Dick-infiltrates-a-harem fic

what if it's like a trafficking situation and once he infiltrates he's constantly trying to draw all attention to himself to protect the other people there until the rescue operation can kick off. Just the flashiest, most gorgeously seductive outfits and behavior.

And he's successful at it, too - it's less nauseating to him when he can treat it as a performance, distance himself from it, weaponize the looks and charisma that have drawn him attention (both wanted and really, really unwanted) his entire life. When he can use the helpless attraction that people react to him with in order to draw the master's gaze away from those less equipped to handle it, less able to protect themselves.

he's especially trying to shield this younger boy, who is dangerously, magnetically beautiful, and who was very obviously - very unfortunately - The Favorite until Dick arrived. He even looks a bit similar to Dick, superficially - soft black hair, and pale blue eyes that sharpen so keenly whenever his gaze catches on Dick. So unlike the hazy, half-lidded look he's always giving the master.

Watching that man put his filthy hands all over the kid makes Dick feel sick. He re-doubles his efforts to never let them be alone, barely even wearing clothes anymore to catch and keep the master's eye on him, instead.

only for Tim to be like. So I know you're new here, and this protectiveness is...really sweet and kind and everything, but. You're stealing my shtick. I'm the self-sacrificial lamb protecting everyone else around here by drawing away the worst of the attention. I can take care of myself, you don't have to...put on that act, put yourself in the line of fire - not for me.

And Dick is like yes I do - at least until I can get you all out of here. god, you shouldn't have to do any of that either, I want to break his hand every time he touches you--

And Tim is like I knew it, I knew you had to be either a cop or a vigilante, okay what's the plan, I'm fully on board, here's all the security information and blackmail I've been gathering, we're burning this place to the ground, right?

Dick: --Absolutely we are 🥺💘

.......Okay but what if it's Ra's' harem

[antoniorhinothethird]

Beautiful, wonderful and painful as always. Our poor boy, Ji. Verging on panic attacks and anxiety attacks all the time, while his entitled best friend is always making trouble for everyone. All Jisung ever does is worry about his best friends, while all Minho worries about is if he can ever get oc back even after everything he's done while his dick is in Kat and even before when he was just fantasizing about her while still being in a relationship with oc and then ALL of the times after. (Lol I am still so bitter about it because the dude doesn't get it) Maybe try some accountability next time asshole, I think that'll help instead of stroking your ego and having your dick stroked every time you're sad. He was even a dick to Kat with the breakup, like dude??? It was YOUR choice YOUR decision! You say you're sorry, but are you??! Why are you mad at her??! What are you acting all high and mighty for?? And the fact that he broke up with oc the same way, no wait actually it's not the same, because he was WAY meaner with oc in that one, way more of an asshole than he already is. Saying shit like it's about their fighting when it's clearly about pussy. Hahaha this bitch. Who are you trying to fool? Yup, it's gonna take a whole lot for me to change my mind. I expect a lot from him with these "changes" he's claiming he's doing. Because the damage seems so irreplaceable from how much of it he did, continuously, so I really do hope he stops being an asshole at some point. And fucking focus on bettering himself instead of trying to get in oc's pants who's oblivious to all the pain she endured from him in the past. Like dude, chill your floppy dick. Hahahahaha sorry, I just really hate people like that. Just gives no fucks at all. Disrespectful, insensitive, selfish, greedy and all around garbage behavior. I am still really excited to see whether he will succeed in showing his "changes". I still hope people around him don't forgive him too easily though. He doesn't understand the gravity of the situation yet. If he's talking like that and he JUST broke it off with Kat a few moments ago, then I want him to understand. I want him to be humbled, clearly the accident hasn't done that yet. So I really do hope he suffers so much more. He deserves it, and I think he needs it to finally realize that the world doesn't revolve around him and his needs and wants. I want him to realize he doesn't have the right to demand Jisung anything and that he's the one who should be tiptoeing around his friend because he's the one who broke him and made him paranoid and anxious like this. Hahaha god, i'm so fucking immersed in this story. I really love this one so much even though it makes me so emotional like this, making me a wreck for days. 😂 But still, I am in love with this story, and I really do hope more people will see this and appreciate it more like we do. ❤️

blue side of the sky (lmh) | 10.5 [cloudy days] - jisung

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—10.5 [CLOUDY DAYS] jisung's thoughts

—WORD COUNT: 0.5k

—ON ROTATION: forever rain - rm

Jisung lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling mindlessly as he tosses the stress ball in his hand up a few times. He lets out a deep sigh when he finally grips the ball and gives it a rest, fingers tapping on his chest.

The house, quiet.

Jisung replays Minho's words in his heads, suddenly feeling a bit guilty about how angry he got. 

"I'll say it one more time before I let this go. I know I fucked up, but I'm your bestfriend too. Sometimes, it'd be a little nice if you cut me some slack. I'm learning from my mistakes and I'm trying to do better. It doesn't happen overnight but I'm not completely hopeless, you know?" 

But, what is he supposed to do? Minho knows how protective he gets over you. He knows he'd lay everything down for you. The thing that gets him angry the most is the fact that Minho just doesn't seem to understand that things shifted solely because of his actions, his selfishness.

Yet, here he goes again.

Jisung can't police his behavior, he knows that. He just hopes Minho means it, and he hopes he can see the changes. And Jisung cares a lot about his bestfriends, he would do anything to keep them happy, to keep them safe. But, after the accident, it's no secret that most of his attention fell onto you. Without Uncle Adrian, you didn't really have anyone besides him, them. He needed to put you first.

Why couldn't Minho do the same? 

From the beginning, Jisung really trusted him. He trusted Minho to take care of you, to love you, to protect you and keep you safe. For a long time, he had no worries. It was easy to tell Minho loved you. It was easy to tell that he took care of you, he made you happy, he kept you safe.

Then suddenly, he didn't. And Jisung can't understand his behavior for the life of him. No matter the questions he asks, he won't get the right answers. He is angry for that, and he is sad. He wishes Minho would make better decisions, and he wishes Minho would think for once. He wishes he could believe him when he says what he says, he wishes he could truly stop living in constant anxiety because of all of this. He is tired, and sometimes he wishes he could just let things go for awhile. Maybe it was his fault for putting so much pressure on himself, for doing everything to shield you from the world.

He just wants you safe, because at this point, he feels like he is the only one who can do that— feels like he can only trust himself to do so.

His heart breaks because he hates seeing you hurt. All you've ever done was love, love, and love— giving your all to your people without asking for anything in return. It's one of the most painful things to remember you crying in his arms;

One of the most painful things to remember was seeing you leave that night even though Jisung tried, he really tried to keep you there. He should've tried harder.

Why couldn't Minho do the same?

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[redorich]

to those who carried on

A fic for @petrichormeraki​ and their Hermit!Tommy AU.

-------

The hermits know Tommy as a quiet young man who is very sad and contemplative. The more time they spend with him (against his will, but they know he needs the company) the more they learn of the little details. His favorite block is cobblestone, he likes building towers, and apparently his favorite woman is the Queen. They don’t ask why he wears a smiley mask even though he never seems happy. They don’t ask why he hides important things in his ender chest. They don’t ask why he wears a shattered compass on a chain about his neck.

(Once, he died in lava and lost his absolute mind. He was so upset about the compass that he didn’t even mention the stack and a half of diamond ore he had on him. Xisuma ended up manually rolling back the server just so Tommy could have it back.)

As time goes on, the tremors in Tommy's hands grow lesser. His dull blond hair seems a bit brighter, his bruises fade quicker, he doesn’t look quite so skinny-- he spends his time serenely building, resource gathering instead of running and fighting. He has a sense of humor under all that trauma, which the hermits unfortunately find out after another massive-scale prank war thought to be instigated by Grian actually turns out to be Tommy's fault.

Tommy starts swearing more. Doc gets the stink eye from Stress for this, but Doc insists he’s never once sworn around the young man. (That’s an absolute lie, but it wasn’t anything Tommy hadn’t heard before. Tommy thinks Doc is remarkably unoriginal in his cursing. He does take note of the German ones, though.)

Inviting Tommy to PvP minigames can be touchy, they learn. He likes to fight, but he fights like an animal with nothing to lose. Grian once chanted, “It stays in the pit!” and everyone present had to spend the next five minutes wrangling Tommy’s soul back into his body from wherever it’d floated off to.

Tommy likes to glide with his elytra. He claims he’s never had one before, but he flies like such a natural that a few people have their doubts. On a dark desert night, with dark blue eyes watching the night sky, he confides to Cub that it reminds him of the way his dad used to fly. He hates rockets, though. He does not confide to Cub that it reminds him of what his brother did to his best friend. He says enough that Cub can guess, though.

Scar gets fed up with Tommy’s creeper holes and makes Tommy help him fix them. At first, Tommy has no clue why Scar is breaking out things like coarse dirt and birch leaves and making the ground all fancy, but he’s not afraid of a little hard work and Scar makes it fun. He learns a lot about terraforming that day, and awkwardly comes back a few days later asking if Scar needs any more help terraforming. Tommy still hasn’t built a real base, not by Hermitcraft standards, but the small hill he’s built his dirt hut near now has a very beautiful, if amateurish, waterfall. He doesn’t tell Scar about this, but Scar finds out anyway. Tommy wakes up one morning to find that someone has left a shulker box in his house. Instead of iron-gripped paranoia, he just feels wonder that someone would give him a gift-- to the hermits, a single shulker box is nothing. To Tommy, it’s everything.

The shulker box contains coarse dirt, birch leaves, and a silk touch shovel.

Tommy helps Xisuma mine a giant hole in the ground near bedrock, because he realizes that he’s never thanked the admin for getting him his compass back. Well, that and the fact that instamining with a haste two beacon and an efficiency five pickaxe is a novelty. Xisuma lets him keep the cobble, since everyone knows it’s Tommy’s favorite block, but also insists he keep some of the other blocks like andesite and diorite. He pats Tommy on the head and tells him to talk to Bdubs about building a house some time. Tommy nods. He's taken aback by how tall Xisuma is, completely contrasting his mild nature. He reminds Tommy of Wilbur, on one of his good days before... Before. Not Ghostbur, though-- the admin is much too alive.

Tommy waits too long, so eventually Bdubs comes to him. The man is silly and outrageous, playing everything for laughs and unexpectedly tender. Bdubs plays up how beautiful he thinks Tommy’s hideous dirt shack is, then offers to help him build a house that’s better. For Tommy, building a house means settling down, accepting that this is his home now. Bdubs doesn’t know this. Tommy builds cobblestone dicks while Bdubs tries to lecture him about depth and block variation. Nothing gets done and Bdubs feels like he might have failed, but come next week Bdubs is flying over the area and sees the dicks are gone; so is the dirt house. In its place is a spruce-and-cobble cottage nestled near the tiny waterfall. Off to the side, he’s made a cozy doghouse for his fox, Theo. Bdubs doesn’t know how close that fox came to being named Fundy.

He spars with False, and she very pointedly does not mention how his stances are uniquely suited to a piglin. There’s only one renowned fighter who’s a piglin, after all. It's Tommy’s story to tell, if he ever does, why he’s seen enough of the legendary Technoblade’s fights to pick up on his stances, yet he’s not experienced enough to know that they don’t suit him. Instead, False gives him different stances suited more for tall, skinny people like the two of them. She’s got blond hair and blue eyes just like him. (Not that she’d know. She’s never seen his eyes, hidden behind his mask as they are.) Every now and then, he imagines her as an older sister, and the one time he says so, she smiles. When Tommy’s at home, looking at his own distorted reflection in his waterfall (he’s improved it since he built it), he muses that their eyes aren’t the same, their hair colors are subtly off. It’s close enough, he thinks.

Stress dies from fall damage and Tommy goes out of his way to pick up her stuff, because the hermits do these things out of the kindness of their hearts. The thought never even crosses their minds to steal. It crosses his mind. He doesn’t do it. Stealing from Stress would be like stealing from Niki.

He shows up at Cleo’s base unannounced and demands to see the “cool shit”. He is appropriately enthused by the giant armor-stand-bugs. She tries teaching him her armor stand magic, but it doesn’t really sink in. It’s okay, she assures him, most people don’t have the knack for it. He does, however, learn that buttons make excellent decorations. He also learns how to braid hair, bribed by ice cream. He is terrible at it, to the point where Joe has to come by to help the two untangle her hair so Tommy can start again. Watching the two bicker over capitalism and six million armor stands and a whole host of other inside jokes he doesn’t get, he thinks he’s starting to understand what friendship is supposed to be like. Joe and Cleo don’t see him clutching his compass. He and Tubbo weren’t too far off from this, given their circumstances. Maybe...

Maybe Tubbo can be forgiven.

Tommy makes minigames of his own, ones that don’t just kill you and steal your stuff. He builds things that are pretty instead of just functional, brews potions with Stress and only calls them drugs once (again, upsetting her is like upsetting Niki. Best not done), and sets up chicken bombs above people’s bases instead of just lavacasting them. (As Grian saw the hundreds of chickens slowly raining down upon his mansion, he got such a peculiar look on his face that Tommy feared he’d fucked up. The shorter, stronger (much stronger oh god why is he so strong despite being so small) man nearly crushed Tommy’s lungs in a hug, proclaiming how proud he was of Tommy. Tommy was proud of himself for not accidentally murdering Grian out of reflex. Was this what healing was like?)

Yes. It is what healing is like. Tommy knows this because that wound gets ripped open again. Tango shows him how to build the most obnoxious redstone-powered noise machine the two can think of. Tango digs a small pit, and asks Tommy to throw down his axe. Suddenly, Tommy’s in Logstedshire again; it’s not Tango asking, it’s Dream. His hands don’t shake when he tosses his axe into the pit, followed by his sword and his armor. It isn't until he’s placed the TNT down that Tango grabs his wrist and asks him what he’s doing. Tommy’s eyes clear enough that he can see past the blond hair and freckles. Tango isn’t green, he’s red. He's shorter than Dream, and his worried eyes are unhidden. Tommy shudders, then tells Tango everything.

Tango has no pity for Tommy, just understanding and sympathy. He doesn’t push Tommy to talk about it, but when Tommy’s done telling his story, Impulse and Zedaph show up. They all pretend that Tommy’s voice isn’t hoarse, that they all didn’t conveniently happen to look away when Tommy took off his mask just long enough to wipe his eyes. The men bake a cake together, fool around with honey blocks, and don’t talk about it.

Tommy knows very little about redstone, considers himself more of a builder and a fighter than an engineer. Still, Mumbo’s living base is inspiring, and Tommy often hangs around the man’s industrial district just to watch Mumbo work. Mumbo knows that Tommy hasn’t purchased a day pass, but it’s nice having someone around to talk to while he works. It’s not like Tommy is stealing anything. (Tommy totally steals from Mumbo’s industrial district storage system. The man’s farms are so efficient that he doesn’t even notice, so Tommy assumes it’s fine. What Mumbo doesn’t know won’t hurt him.)

Lava still isn’t his favorite thing in the world. He stays far away from it, instead of imagining what it would be like to hurtle towards it. Ren doesn’t really notice this, but he does notice that Tommy doesn’t seem to like his mustafarian base. On a spur-of-the-moment whim, Ren whips up some absurd plotline in which he is a lone weary traveller seeking refuge at Tommy’s base from strange alien overlords. The two have fun together, and the young man cracks more absurd jokes about it than the hermits have ever seen him do. When Ren leaves a week later to return to his own base, Tommy keeps being absurd, if a bit more subdued without someone to play off of. He builds a shrine to the “prime log”, which grows more elaborate each day. Beef and xB pretend to be his acolytes, despite having no clue what a “twitch prime” is.

They can’t see his face, but the smile in his voice is a far cry from the despondency he once wore like a heavy cloak. He is so much more animated and alive, full of motivation. He builds an entire island in three days, and hand-delivers an invitation to each and every hermit for his beach party. Everyone shows up, even those with packed schedules (Iskall) and those with introverted tendencies (Etho). Tommy is nearly moved to tears when they show up in groups of twos and threes, as though he hadn’t expected anyone to come. There aren’t enough chairs for everyone, but there is more than enough cake to go around. Tango brings drinks, Impulse brings meat to barbecue, and Zedaph makes an elaborate jump-powered grill. Keralis brings way too much confetti and several handfuls of cheap, obnoxious party noisemakers. Stress brings Tommy a crown made out of alliums. It shines far less than his brother’s gold crown, and it’ll die in a few days, but he wears it all night and keeps it in his ender chest until it withers away.

He spends five days teaching himself to make flower crowns. Even his best attempt is awful, nowhere near as pretty as the crowns Stress makes, but when he gives it to her, she takes off the one she was wearing and wears his until it falls apart.

He dies fighting a creeper on Grian’s behalf, and doesn’t even panic, because he trusts that however many times he dies, no matter how stupid or ignominious or revolutionary or important, Xisuma will always let him respawn.

He spends a grand total of nine diamonds to buy a single plot of land in the shopping district. He builds a cute little bench facing the sunset, with warmly glowing street lights on either side and a small garden. At the end of the bench he places a jukebox, and buys every single disc that Beef’s music shop sells, including Pigstep. He sits on the bench while Mellohi plays and watches the tiny silhouettes of his friends flying in the evening sky. Tommy looks alone on that bench, even if he seems happy, so sometimes other people stop by to sit with him. Scar declares the bench area a public park, since everyone likes it so much, and refunds Tommy his nine diamonds straight from the throne.

[catxsnow]

CHALLENGE G.L.

REQUEST: could i pls request some gar logan x reader fluff where gar has a huge crush on the reader who's very self assured and confident and he keeps his feelings to himself because he doesn't think he's enough for her. then one day she corners him and asks why he's been so distant and he confesses his feelings and it all becomes a big fluffy mess. bonus if the reader was subtly flirting the whole time and gar was oblivious.

Warning: fluff, Gar being sad a little

A/N: First Gar fic! I hope you all enjoy! 💕

Part two

Word Count: 2.7k

Being a part of the Titans was everything you could dream of and more. For once in your life you finally felt like you belonged somewhere. Your teammates, your friends - they were more than that - they were your family. No matter how much they fought, you knew that you would always be there for each other.

Much like Dick and Jason, you were only human. On a team filled with people of extraordinary powers and abilities, you should have been the kind of person that felt intimidated. However, being without powers and still deserving a place on this team made you maybe a little too confident.

You were cocky when it came to showing off why you deserved to be there just like everyone else. That attitude rubbed off on you when you weren't training or in the field too. Even just lounging around the tower you oozed confidence. A lot of times in your life, you found that girls would be envious of you and boys would be intimidated by you.

You became a challenge.

Even within the safe walls of the tower you were still within danger of being the prey. Jason Todd relentlessly tried to win you over. He adored your skills, your beauty, the incredible intelligence you maintained all while keeping a humorous mentality. You were the definition of perfect to many.

And you knew it too. It was rare to ever see you put yourself above others, but you were well aware the affect you had on people. After years of being put on an unwanted pedestal of perfection, you knew that people desired you. It was what made you so confident in yourself. Thankfully, you knew well enough to keep yourself humble. Mostly.

Jason continuously tried to flirt his way into your life. Though you enjoyed the playful banter between the two of you, he wasn't the person that you were interested in.

You and Gar were best friends. The second that you two met it was an instant connection - he brought out a side of you that had been tucked away for so long. Around him you could be your playful, care-free self. You didn’t have to worry about maintaining the facade that people expected from you. He was like a breath of fresh air every time you were with him. It was nice to finally have someone befriend you for more than just your beauty and skills.

"Come on, Gar! You can do better than that."

Training day was always your favourite day. It was the only time that you felt like you could truly let off some steam. Kicking ass against some bad guys always did you good too, but you always had to restrain yourself to some degree. Training allowed you to go all out and gave you the time to improve your skills.

At the moment, it was you and Gar sparring in the ring. Once the dummy you were using had been beaten down multiple times, you needed a live, moving opponent. Gar was the nearest person you could find who wasn't busy. Most of the time, it was Jason you sparred with - he had a similar set of skills to you.

"You know my hand to hand skills are no where near as good as yours," Gar complained. He laid flat on the mat with a bruised ego as you stood above him. As much as he had been learning from you and Dick, he didn't even compare. He had powers, he didn't need to be as reliant as you with pure skill alone.

"Then don't use them," you stuck your hand out to help him up. "Let out the beast, I can handle it." Gar immediately shook his head, he didn't want to hurt you - being the tiger could do some serious damage against you. Being human meant you healed like a human, he wouldn't forgive himself if something happened.

"(Y/N), we talked about this," Gar argued. He ducked, narrowly missing your left hook. The two of you circled each other on the mat. You were in your usual training attire - shorts and a sports bra. It also happened to be Gar's favourite outfit on you, and the most distracting. "I'm not going to fight you like that."

"Yes, you are," you confidently told him. Gar tried to make the first attack this time. He lunged towards you and jabbed his fist towards your face but you had seen it coming. You grabbed onto his arm and twisted it behind his back. His knees buckled as you kicked the back of them and your arm wrapped around his neck. "I'll even say please."

Gar shivered as your breath fanned against his neck. Over the time that the two of you spent in the tower, he realized that his feelings for you were a little more than friendly. Just like any other man you came to encounter, he had fallen for you alluring spell. It broke his heart to know that he never stood a chance to win you over. Not when there were people like Jason out there.

"No."

"Gar."

"I don't want to hurt you!" He broke out of your hold and turned to face you. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. Every time you came back from some sort of mission with cuts and bruises, he wanted nothing more than to take that pain away from you. You were far too precious to have to go through any pain.

"You won't. I can handle myself," you assured him. "Besides, I always enjoy the view when you switch back to yourself," You winked at him. Gar's face flared up red with embarrassment - He hated not having his clothes after he used his powers. You on the other hand, always liked getting glimpses of him.

"I'm definitely not doing it now," Gar muttered, still blushing. Your grinned at him being so flustered by your compliment. You reached up to pat his cheek, but it had only made his redness worse. 

"Fine, I guess I'll go find Jason or Dick to spar with," you dragged out your words, hoping that he would get the hint that you wanted to train with him, not either of them. He didn't, of course. As always, unless you were being direct he never picked up on your desire to hang out with him. At the mention of Jason's name, he had already given up.

Gar hid the hurt look on his face as you offered to train with someone else. It seemed to be good timing too, Jason had just been walking by when he saw the two of you and decided to pop in to see how things were going. "Look at that, once again just impeccable timing," Gar had a noticeable tone of frustration in his voice.

He left the training room without another word, unable to see the sad look on your face as he left. Jason on the other hand, looked thrilled to get to train with you again. It was Gar that you wanted to spend time with, not him. It was always Gar that you wanted to see, he was the most important person in your life.

"Gar!" You called after him. He either didn't hear you or decided to ignore you. Either way, you frowned at his departure.

His smile would light up any bad day you were having. No matter how bad his jokes were, they always seemed to put a smile on your face. You even suffered through him playing his video games just to see him excited over a win. And when he asked you to play against him, of course you couldn't deny it.

"You ready, princess?"

"Call me that again and you won't get back off the ground."

><

Gar had been avoiding you.

At first, it was subtle. He would be late enough to dinner that his usual spot beside you was taken. He then started to choose someone else to spar with during training. That you weren't surprised about, after the last time you figured that he would go with Dick instead of you for the next few times.

If you were in the living room, he would stay in his room. If you ever went to go visit him there, he would claim he was just about to jump in the shower and he would catch you later. By that point, you were far past suspicious of his behavior.

Gar was your best friend, and without him your days were lonely. It had only been a few weeks since he started ignoring you, but you missed him. The short time apart realized how much you truly cared for him. You knew that these feelings you had for him had been there for quite a while, but you never realized how strong they were.

You wished that Gar was more than a friend towards you. With him ignoring you, it was easy to assume that he didn't feel the same way. You whole life was spent with boys chasing you, and when the one you cared about most wasn't, well it was a shock to you. Gar was the only person you wanted to looking at you with admiration and now he couldn't even look you in the eye.

After giving him his space for a few weeks, you decided enough was enough. Gar was your best friend and he sure as hell wasn't acting like it. Whatever was going on with him, you needed to know. The only way that you could help him get through whatever he was going through was to know everything.

So, when you saw him sneaking into the kitchen for a late night snack, you cornered him. Gar was peaking in the fridge as you stood behind the door. There was no way that he was going to avoid you this time. The second that he closed the door and saw your figure standing there, he got so frightened his eyes turned bright green.

"(Y/N)!" Gar shouted, nearly dropping the jug of milk he had grabbed. His hand was over his chest after the surprise and his eyes wide. "What, uh, what're you doing here?"

"You've been avoiding me, Garfield," you got right to the point. A nervous smile covered his cheeks "And don't try lying to me that you haven't, I know you better than that. You're my best friend, Gar. I'm worried about you, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Gar stated. He turned away from you to continue making his midnight snack of what you assumed was going to be cereal. It was always his go to - you knew that. However, his hesitance to tell you how he was feeling was what made you nervous. He was never like this, not towards you.

As soon as he tried to pass you, you snatched the bowl of cereal out of his hand and stood before him. There was no way he was getting out of it this time. Not with the way that he was acting.

"(Y/N)," Gar whined. You gave him a look that insinuated that you weren't about to give up. He tried to grab the bowl from your hands but you were too quick for him to even get near it. That didn't stop him from trying. Gar tried to out-wit you, but had only failed. "Give it back, I'm hungry."

"No," you affirmed. "The only way that you're getting this bowl is if you fight me, or if you tell me what the fuck is going on with you." Gar tilted his head down, he didn't like either of those options. However, he knew he'd rather get his ass kicked by you, then to ruin the friendship that he had.

When Garfield tilted his head back up, his eyes were green and his skin was tinged the same color too. He was willing to beast out if that meant that he didn't have to confess his feelings to you. His action hurt you more than you ever thought they could. Gar wasn't a violent person, and for him to do this, it really meant he didn't trust you.

Gar went back to his normal self when you didn't budge from your spot. He was even more surprised when he noticed how glassy your eyes looked and the tremble in your hands while holding his bowl. Gar didn't hesitate to throw his arms around you in hopes to comfort you from his actions.

"I'm sorry," He whispered. The grip he had on you caused your shirt to scrunch up in his hand. You set the bowl on the counter beside you and wrapped your arms around him as well.

"No," you shook your head at his apology. He had done nothing wrong, this was your fault. "If you don't want to talk about your feelings then I shouldn't force you to do so. Just... if I'm doing something wrong, or you're upset with me for something just tell me. I can't sleep at night thinking your avoiding me because you hate me now."

You gave Gar one more squeeze before walking away from him. It wasn't fair of you to try and force him to talk about something that he wasn't comfortable with. You should have known better. It was just always so easy to talk to him, you always thought that he felt the same ease with you.

Your breathing trembled as you walked down the empty hall to your room. Maybe the friendship you had with Gar wasn't what you thought it was.

A hand latching onto yours nearly made you jump. Gar had stopped you. He tugged you back towards him, and if it wasn't for his hold you would have fallen flat on the ground. Gar held you up against him with his hands resting on your waist. Your hands were delicately rested in his chest.

"(Y/N), I..." Gar stuttered over his words. He was hesitant to tell you his feelings, but he needed you to know that he didn't hate you, not at all. The closeness of you made him nervous, he could see every little detail of your face, each one of them perfect in their own ways. "I..." he tried once more.

You couldn't take this anymore. You couldn't take teetering around him and your feelings towards him. Endless flirting that he never seemed to pick up on or the fact that you got flustered every time you messed up and he was around. This battle you were having with yourself about whether or not Gar's feelings for you were more than friendly needed to end.

Your hands slid up his chest until they rested on the side of his face. The warmth of his skin drew you in more, like you craved his touch. Gar let out a gasp as you pressed your lips against his. He stood still, surprised by your actions. There was no way that the girl of his dreams was kissing him.

Gar snapped out of his shock. His grip lowered to your hips and he finally started to kiss you back. Everything about this was perfect. The taste of your lips, the softness of your skin. He was completely blinded by you and your perfection.

You pulled away, completely out of breath but a smile on your lips. The linger of his touch resided on you and you wished for it never to go away. "I'm sorry," You whispered. "I shouldn't have... I couldn't go any longer without doing that," you changed your sentence.

"I'm glad you did," Gar grinned. You loved his smile, you always had. It seemed to be the only thing that would make you happy when you were feeling down. "Truth be told, I was avoiding you because I didn't know how much longer I could go without doing that too."

Gar kissed you again. The softness of his lips made you want to have them constantly on you. You wanted his kiss, his hold, you wanted him to love you. The happiness that filled your heart something that you hadn't felt in so long. He was your happiness, he had been since the day  you met.

"Guess we better make up for lost time then."

Part two

[krreader]

BTS reacting to someone else revealing that you’re in love with them.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: language ; idol!reader for some scenarios genre: angst ; fluff word count: 2.1k+

a/n: omg this escalated a little lol, but I had so much fun writing it that I hope you like it too ♥

kim seokjin

This was supposed to be a fun night with your best friend, where you'd do nothing but be lazy, eat junk food and gossip about the world.

But it was as if fate didn't allow you pleasures in life.

“Oh god, it's Jin,” you sat up straight when you got a notification from your crush, your best friend doing the same, “I'm too scared to read it, you do it.”

She took the spoon out of her mouth and placed it in the empty ice cream bowl before opening your phone and reading the message out loud, while you were clutching a pillow against your chest, “Hey (Y/N), so, I just talked to the boys and they somehow all said you have feelings for me? Why do my band members know about this but not me, who is directly involved?” her jaw dropped, then her expression turned into an angry one, “THOSE SNITCHES!”

“Bye,” you got up out of bed, “Delete my social media and then throw my phone into the trash, I'm going to move to an island.”

“No, no, no, don't,” she pulled you back onto the bed, “This might be an opportunity. You said you were always too afraid to tell him yourself, but now you didn't have to and he still knows. Sure, it's not ideal, but the message doesn't sound like he's refusing you or anything. Just think about it.. if he didn't feel anything for you, he'd probably just ignore it, right?”

You thought on it for a moment, then you asked, “You really think so?”

“Look, I think it's time you and him finally talk in person about this,” she handed you the phone, “Tell him to meet you at a café tomorrow. I'll be sitting in the back and if it's becoming too uncomfortable or you need an emergency exit, you just do our sign and I'll come and rescue you and then we get drunk to forget about him, okay?”

“Very uplifting,” you mumbled, but ultimately asked him to meet you anyways. The 'damage' was already done, now you had to talk to him in person about it or it would only get worse and more awkward the next time you'd see each other.

You were the first to arrive the next day, were so freaking nervous, but your best friend giving you a thumbs up from a table further away made you a little more at ease.

Even though you had nothing to be scared about.

Because when Seokjin entered the café, he did so looking fine as hell, with a happy smile and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“What.. is this?” you asked in confusion.

“A date, I hope,” he leaned down to kiss your cheek, then wiggled his eyebrows with a grin, “One that seems to be long overdue.”

min yoongi

“Those flowers you're always getting for our wins.. who are they from, hyung?” Jimin asked one day out of curiosity, “You've been getting them for years..”

“A friend.. from before.”

“Man.. he cares a lot about you if he spends so much money on congratulating you. You'd think he'd stop at this point with the amount of wins we get.”

“She,” Yoongi corrected, still looking at his phone.

And then Jimin was quiet for a moment, before he let out a sigh and said, “Scratch that. She's in love with you, then.”

And it was only now that Yoongi looked up from his phone and watched Jimin leave. And even though he told himself that that was bullshit and that you two were only friends like in the old days.. there were signs that Yoongi always thought were a bit odd.

Because despite you two not having seen each other in years, you still seemed to.. wait..

..for him to come back.

He didn't act on it then, but later that night when he was already in bed, he dared to send you a message: “If I ask you something, will you promise me to tell the truth?”

“I've never lied to you, I won't start now,” you replied only a few minutes later.

“Do you still have feelings for me?”

Because he knew you did when he left. He knew it had hurt you when he left and you had cried terribly, but only because your mother had admitted it one day. But he had assumed that those feelings were long gone at this point.

Well.. joke's on him.

“Yes.”

And his heart skipped a beat.. out of happiness.

jung hoseok

Bangtan was doing a fansign today, nothing out of the usual, nothing extraordinary.

Until one girl came up to Hoseok that really surprised him today (and ARMY's have done a lot for Bangtan, so it's hard to say that one of them is surprised).

“Are you happy at the moment?”

“Why would you ask me that?” he laughed like he usually did as he signed her album, then looked up at her, “Do I not look happy?” he acted cute, but she seemed to look right through him.

“You're allowed to be happy, you know?” she waited for the girl to her right to move on before she whispered, “I went to (Y/N)'s fansign last week and asked her about you.. she didn't say anything, but I could tell that she was sad. I don't know what happened between you two and I don't believe the media, but please don't think that you can't be with her because of us fans. You deserve to be happy and if she makes you happy then you should be with her.”

Hoseok blinked at her for a second, then he asked: “What did she tell you?”

“She didn't have to tell me anything, it was obvious what she's feeling for you. The way she looks at you and the way she starts to smile when one mentions your name is enough,” she looked at the manager when he asked her to move on, but then quickly added, “Be happy, Jung Hoseok. Please..”

Hoseok didn't mention this to anyone, not even to you at first.

It was only a few days later that he decided to dial the number he used to call so often, but not anymore.

“Hello?”

“Hey.. it's uh.. it's me,” Hoseok bit down on his lip, “I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me?”

He had put some space between you two when things were starting to get heated, but he had assumed you had merely wanted something sexual. To hear that from a fan, that she thought you might feel more for him when he did too.. it gave him hope when he didn't have any.

But he should have had.

“I'd love to,” you smiled.

kim namjoon

“If you had to choose between.. Namjoon and Hoseok,” Yoongi asked, drunk out of his mind as you all played a game that was supposed to be for teenagers, “Who would you choose?”

“Aaaah, come on this is a boring question, hyung,” Jeongguk whined, “Ask about dick.”

“Namjoon,” you whispered into your drink.

You thought nobody had heard it, but everybody did. Somehow they all suddenly were sober enough to hear that.

Great.

Namjoon stared at you with wide eyes and only blinked again when Yoongi nudged his side, “See, I told you she had a thing for you, Namjoonie.”

This was really embarrassing. So much, that you ended up taking your leave and decided to get yourself a glass of water in the kitchen while your band members and Bangtan continued to play the game.

And when someone entered the kitchen, you knew that it could only be one.

“I'm drunk.. don't think too much of it.”

“I'm going to be disappointed if I don't, though,” Namjoon waited for you to turn around, but when you didn't, he decided to walk up to you and gently turn you around by your waist.

“Don't give me false hope, Namjoon,” you didn't dare look at him, but he grabbed your chin and made you.

“You know I'd never hurt you,” no. Instead, what happened was him crashing his lips against yours and you two full-on making out in the kitchen.

All thanks to Yoongi.

park jimin

“So.. are you two dating yet?” Taemin asked as he sat down next to Jimin with a drink in his hand.

“Who?”

“(Y/N) and you.. she's obviously crazy for you and you don't seem to hate the idea of dating her either.”

“She's.. not in love with me,” Jimin shook his head, then he snorted, “She's got other guys who want her attention, I don't think she's that into me.”

“My god, you really don't give yourself any credit, man,” he let out a heavy sigh and took his drink out of his hand, “Get up and talk to her. Right now. Because those looks you're giving each other are driving everyone crazy.” “Stop this, hyung, this isn't funny.”

“I know it isn't. Now go and get the girl before someone else does,” he winked at him, then shifted his attention to someone else who wanted to talk to him and Jimin had no other choice but to walk over to you and talk to you, unless he wanted to stand in the room like a tree.

“Hey,” he scratched the back of his head, “Do you.. want to go outside? It's a bit crowded in here.”

“Oh god, yes,” you smiled happily.

And Jimin couldn't help but remember Taemin's words when during you two walking out and people pushing against you two, you grabbed his hand and interlinked your fingers with his so you wouldn't lose him.

And Jimin loved it.

kim taehyung

You didn't do these kind of activities often, mostly because Taehyung didn't have a lot of time for them, but also because it was hard doing something like this without anyone recognizing him.

But this was something that you've both wanted to do for so long and so Tae put on a face mask, glasses and a hat in hopes of nobody recognizing him.

And they didn't.

Because tonight, the attention was somewhere else completely.

“Isn't it beautiful? There hasn't been a starry night like this in years and you're all seeing it up-close,” the guy who did the tour at the observatory said with a huge grin, everyone admiring the beauty of the universe in that moment.

And yet all you could look at was Taehyung, as he pulled down the face mask and the glasses and smiled so brightly that you wanted to cry.

He was so.. happy.

“Please.. come this way, ladies and gentlemen,” the tour guide said, wanting to lead you into another room, but when you asked Taehyung to follow he said, “Go on, I'll be there in a second.”

Wanting to give him a moment to breathe on his own, you did what he asked.

But then another guy approached him, from the looks of it, the one who ran the observatory.

“It's funny isn't it? How the most beautiful things are always right in front of our eyes and yet it's so hard to see it sometimes.”

“Yes,” Taehyung smiled, looking at the guy. But the guy wasn't looking at the stars, he was looking at you.

“Don't waste your time chasing stars forever, though, boy. Not when you already have one right next to you who's only glowing for you.”

And that was a sentence that Taehyung never forgot, a sentence that he lived by for the rest of his life, with you eventually being his girlfriend, then wife and then mother of his children.

Because he realized that the only star he needed in his life was you.

jeon jeongguk

Jeongguk was sleepily making his way into the kitchen to find Jin already making breakfast with a smile.

“Didn't sleep well?” the oldest member chuckled when Jeongguk sat down on one of the bar stools, his head against the cold counter.

“(Y/N) and I talked for hours last night.. I don't even remember what we talked about, but the conversation just didn't end.”

“Young love,” Jin laughed, but was surprised to see Jeongguk's head shoot up as quickly as it did, “What? Isn't it obvious that she's in love with you?”

“She's.. just my best friend.”

“No, Jeongguk,” he placed a plate full of food in front of him with a smile, “She's more than that.”

And that's all it needed. Somebody to say it as bluntly as that for Jeongguk to open his eyes to reality. That the looks you were giving him and the giggles you had reserved only for him weren't that of a best friend.. and the fact that he never once felt weird, but actually liked it when you did all of that and thought it was cute..

..that meant.. he had feelings for you too, right?

“Wait, hyung! What do I do now?” Jeongguk yelled, running after Jin, now suddenly full of energy.

[yukipri]

Marco’s Bauble Part 2 - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

Ended up writing a continuation of the first Marco’s bauble post, thank you so much to everyone who commented and inspired me to write more ^ ^

This was posted on my Patreon earlier this week!

Follow up to On Thatch, Marco, & the Whitebeards - Marco’s Bauble #1 , please read this one first ^ ^

Contains Koala x Luffy, Thatch x Luffy, and Marco x Luffy with bg Ace & Sabo, wow is that a combination of ships I never expected to see, but whelp here we are....

~~

~~

It's during one of Koala's Fishman Karate sessions when That Thing falls out of Luffy's pocket.

At first, Koala thinks she must have imagined it, because why would Luffy have one of those.

But then Luffy drops the stance she's been struggling to hold, concentration shattered, and pounces on the little thing that's trying to roll away from her on the deck.

"Ah, my Mystery Rock!" the mermaid cries, reaffirming that no, Koala didn't imagine it.

Koala stares with dawning horror as Luffy scoops the thing up, rolling the shiny blue bauble between her palms to make sure it hasn't been damaged. She's moving to stick it back into her inner vest pocket when Koala stops her.

"Luffy...where did you get that?"

"Oh this?" Luffy's eyes light up, and she shoves the thing right up and personal in Koala's face.

Koala can see it clearly, the aquamarine glass with shards of multi-faceted crystal and gold flakes embedded in it, with a small, dark core made up of none other than seastone. It's unmistakable.

"Thatch gave it to me!" Luffy continues, and Koala's already moving, spinning on her heel towards the kitchen because she is going to throttle that damn cook--before Luffy adds, "It's not from him though! It's from his friend! The pineapple-bird man!"

Koala freezes, her fury towards Thatch dwindling, but she still feels her heart pounding louder than it should be. She has no idea what a pineapple-bird man is, but the point still stands: a man had given Luffy her "Mystery Rock."

"Luffy," she says, trying to keep her voice light, hoping it isn't cracking with the hysteria she feels inside. "Do you know what that is?"

"It has a sea rock inside!" Luffy says, proud that she's remembered what Ace told her. It's seastone, but close enough, Koala thinks. "It's got glass and stuff on the outside, so I can touch it without getting tired! But it still feels like the sea! It's my magical Mystery Rock!"

Koala nods and smiles, even though she feels her lips strain. "Anything else?"

Luffy blinks. She couldn't be more obvious about pulling a blank, for which Koala is immensely grateful.

Okay, okay. So. Luffy knows what the object is, but probably doesn't know what it means. Which means Koala can relax. For now.

She forces herself to take a deep breath. She shouldn't jump to any conclusions.

"It's a very nice Mystery Rock," Koala smiles sincerely, and it really really is.

Nicer than Luffy's likely aware of.

"How about we take a break for today. Do you want to go show Ace the basic water pulse you can do now?" Koala suggests, and Luffy beams with her whole face and Koala's blinded. It lasts only an instant before Luffy's stretching her arms to grab a rail, slingshotting herself away in the blink of an eye, leaving Koala feeling like a cloud just passed over the sun.

Koala heaves a huge sigh. She's never been more grateful for the lack of Sabo's presence during Fishman Karate sessions, because if Sabo had seen Luffy's "Mystery Rock," and if he had asked Koala to explain its significance...well.

Things would not be pretty.

And despite how objectively beautiful the bauble is, things are already very Not Pretty inside Koala now. She has some words for Thatch's friend.

~~

Thatch's surprised when Koala of all people enters the kitchen (Lil Lesbian No. 2, he'd secretly nicknamed her). He'd just kicked Sanji out with the trays of desserts and beverages they'd made, telling the younger man to go enjoy the sun while Thatch finishes cleaning up and starts prepping for dinner.

Thatch honestly wishes he could be the one to present the sweets to Luffy, but he's also mature enough to let this opportunity go to Sanji. The boy'd practically been twitching with excitement while adding the last loving touches to the parfaits.

It's fine, Thatch is an adult. And by staying in the kitchen, Thatch also gets to prepare and therefore present the enormous steak that'll be part of dinner (and which is Luffy honestly going to be more excited for, a parfait or sea king steak?).

Either way, Thatch's just about finished, and checks his dials one last time before turning to give his visitor his undivided attention.

"So, did the parfaits interrupt your time monopolizing my future fiancee, or...?"

Lil Lesbian No. 2 smiles sweetly, or rather bares her teeth, and doesn't return Thatch's greeting. Rude.

"Thatch, who gave Luffy the seastone trinket?" she demands without prelude. And huh, so that's what they're going to talk about. Thatch blinks. No, he hasn't forgotten about it, and yes, he's still bitter, but he's also a bit alarmed by Koala's intensity. It's just a nice gift...right?

"One of my crew mates," he says cautiously, not seeing any reason to lie. "My friend. Marco."

"Marco the Phoenix, First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates," Koala mumbles, and Thatch can see her pulling up all the mental files she has on him. Thatch has learned that the young revolutionary has a terrifying mental database of pretty much anyone who's made a name for themselves in any way, and reminds himself to never take his teasing too far, because he does not want to make an enemy of her.

Her blackmail-compiling finished, Koala smiles thinly. "So Thatch, do you know what that bauble is?"

Thatch feels like he's being tested, and whatever he says is going to be wrong. "It's a fancy thing you can buy at Fishman island? Costs a small fortune? The mer ladies always seem super happy get them as gifts? I'm not sure what you're asking here," he shrugs helplessly under her glare. He really doesn't know anything else. Fishman island may be Pops' territory, but he's certainly no expert on their culture beyond studying their cuisine.

"And your friend, does he think the same?"

"I don't know what that bird-brain thinks! If you're going to kill him, go after him, not me," Thatch groans. "Are you going to actually tell me what's wrong, or...?"

Koala seems to debate about something, and Thatch hears Sabo muttered under her breath. She then starts to chuckle, and it's a dark, unpleasant sound. Thatch is more than a little concerned.

"Oh the mer ladies like receiving them alright," she mutters.

She takes a deep breath, like she's hyping herself up for something, and now Thatch is tense too.

"Does your friend know," she says, voice so painfully sweet it's gone bitter, "that he's given Luffy the human equivalent of an engagement ring?"

Thatch stops breathing.

A beat, then,

"THAT BASTARD!!!!!!!!!!"

Ace pops his head into the kitchen. "Anything wrong?"

"NOTHING!" Koala and Thatch scream in unison, and Ace jolts backwards in alarm.

"Alright...then. I'll...be back later?" Ace blinks like a puppy confused as to why he'd just been kicked, but he still shuffles back outside, politely closing the door behind him.

Thatch feels pretty awful about making his little brother slink out of his own ship's kitchen, but holy shit does he not want Ace to hear this right now.

Luffy with an engagement ring.

Ace'd explode, then Merry would burn, and then everyone would drown and that's a very sad ending to their short-lived adventure.

"The fuck," he hisses to Koala, just in case Ace is still lurking outside.

"That's what I want to say to your First Division Commander!" she spits back, and alright, fine, maybe she has every right to be upset. "Who does he think he is, giving Luffy something like that? I haven't even asked her out yet!"

Thatch isn't sure that last part is entirely necessary, and mumbles, "My future fiancee," but Koala steamrolls right over him.

"Did he do it intentionally, or is he just an ignorant human like you?"

Thatch wisely keeps his You're human too comment to himself. "Again, I'm not him, I don't know!"

Thatch thinks Marco doesn't know the weight of the gift he's sent. At least, he hopes so. No one on the Moby Dick believes Thatch because they think Marco's always a stuffy mother hen, but Thatch knows Marco can play some pretty nasty pranks when he wants to. But Marco wouldn't pull something like this, it doesn't feel in character for him. He can be a pain in Thatch's ass, but he wouldn't drag in Ace's little brother who he hasn't even met yet. But then again, it also feels weird for Marco to not have looked up the significance of something he spent his own money on. It's all very strange and confusing.

Even so, Thatch is with Koala this time, and is totally okay throwing his older brother under the ship so to speak, because the bastard hasn't even met Luffy, and there's no way he'll support this "engagement," or whatever the hell this is.

"You know," Koala says, far too pleasantly for the mood. "Sabo's going to kill him when he finds out."

Thatch shrugs, he has no intention of helping his friend. "Eh, Marco can handle it, he's strong."

"No, you don't understand," Koala insists, and oh there's that sadism back in her expression. "Ever heard of the Fort Gray incident? That was all Sabo. And Sabo's going to murder your friend."

Thatch has heard of that, few on the Grand Line haven't. And...oh. Maybe Chief of Staff is actually a pretty terrifying title after all. "Marco's fine, he's strong?" he repeats, a little less confident.

Koala snorts, and spitefully grabs a handful of the caramelized pecans on the countertop and shovels them in her face as Thatch squawks protest. He was going to use those!

"I can't wait till Ace hears, because then there'll be two of them," she cronches as Thatch sadly rummages in the cabinets for more pecans. "So now the question is, do we warn your friend or not?"

Thatch isn't feeling particularly charitable, but he also feels betrayed and wants to know what Marco was thinking. The next time one of those damn birds comes, he thinks. He has some questions to ask the Phoenix.

~~

~~

The incident refers to the mission in Sabo's flashback in the anime expanded content at the end of Dressrosa. I dun think it actually had a name/location (could be wrong), so made it up and yes my naming sense is creative I know LMAO.

The beginning might feel choppy bc there was a big Koala x Lu part at the beginning that I chopped off bc it felt too irrelevant to the topic. Might clean that up for a separate post tho ^ ^;

As always, comments/reblogs/tags always immensely appreciated! <3

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

Read the next part: Marco’s Bauble, Part 3

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[thebonerpit]

plug me in and flip some switches [fic]

plug me in and flip some switches

Starker, 4687 words, [E], Android AU, read on Ao3 here!

A Starker Android AU/kinda-sorta Detroit: Become Human AU. Stark Industries is making androids, but somehow CyberLife has cornered the market on sex-bots. Tony decides to do some hands-on research and meets Peter, an android who is experiencing some very troubling malfunctions.

This is VERY loosely based on the D:BH world but it's mostly just a regular android AU and can be read as such. The only thing you need to know is androids have circular LEDs on their temples but otherwise look completely human.

It’s research. Pure and simple. Nothing else.

Tony repeats it like a mantra in his head as he steps through the front door of the club.

For years now he’s been competing with Kamski over at CyberLife, producing better and better android models and other technological marvels. CyberLife and Stark Industries models are commonplace now around the city, life-like bots that can do anything from mow your lawn to suck your dick.

The dick-sucking is why Tony is here, really.

As much as he hates to admit it, Kamski has the sex-bot market cornered. Tony can’t figure it out. His models are gorgeous, his patented StarkSkin is more realistic than anything that hack has come up with so far but somehow sales are pathetic next to CyberLife’s numbers. So… research. Covert research.

He’s not naïve enough to think some shoddy disguise will prevent him from being spotted, but the little device in his pocket that’s currently scrambling all the camera feeds will certainly help. He hands over his identification card to the android by the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Rhodes. Enjoy your visit.”

Yeah, about that… sorry Rhodey. Tony resolves to buy him a nice steak dinner to make up for it.

The club is clean, but tacky, at least in his opinion. Blue and purple lights give the place a strange glow and all the furniture looks expensive but uncomfortable. There are various models walking around and dancing on small stages, clothed but just barely, and a handful of human “customers” admiring the goods. He already feels like he needs a shower.

“Welcome to the Eden Club,” the android at the front desk says, her voice soothing and calm. “Would you prefer to browse our models on the floor, or in our catalogue?”

Tony isn’t particularly fond of wandering around the club aimlessly, especially with other patrons there, so he points at the screen being projected in front of him.

“Wonderful. Do you have a preference for gender?”

He shakes his head and waits to see if there’s any reaction from the android. She simply taps a few keys and the catalogue appears in front of him.

“You’ll find all of our models here. When you have selected one, press the blue button underneath their picture.”

Tony almost wants to ask her to just choose for him. It would make this whole thing less... deliberate. He glances quickly behind him to ensure no one else is there before looking through the first few pictures. A Steve model, with a gentle smile and wholesome good looks. A Natasha, who looks like she could probably kill him with a flick of her wrist. He swallows thickly and files that one away to come back to. A Bucky, a huge man with beautiful long hair and sad eyes. A Wanda, young but intense. As he swipes through the next few pages, none of them really stand out to him. What’s so damn special about these bots? He considers going back to the Natasha when he stops on one of the last photographs.

A Peter model. Tony has seen a few of the others throughout the city, but this one is new. Small and lithe, twinky, but well-muscled. The model rotates on the screen and Tony nearly chokes as his eyes fixate on what can only be described as an absolutely perfect ass encased in tight black boxer-briefs. But the face… jesus. Soft-looking waves of hair frame a gentle and innocent expression, slightly chubby cheeks contrast with a sharp little nose and jawline, and big brown eyes make him look even more frighteningly human than the others.

He presses the blue button before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Excellent choice, Mr. Rhodes. Please follow me and I’ll take you to your private room.”

The android leads him down a long hallway lined with closed doors. Tony can’t hear any noises coming from within so he assumes there must be sound-proofing on all the rooms. The main club was too crowded for these to all be empty. She stops near the end of the hall and gestures to a door with a green light beside the handle.

“He’s ready for you. You have one hour from the time you open the door. Please remember that any damage done to the unit will be charged to your account. Enjoy your evening.”

She walks away without a second glance.

Tony exhales sharply.

“Alright. I guess this is happening.”

He opens the door and all his blood immediately rushes downward. Peter is a vision. He’s wearing nothing but those skimpy black boxer-briefs and is curled up like a cat in the middle of a huge, round bed. The sheets are dark red and the contrast against his pale skin is absolutely gorgeous. He perks up as soon as Tony walks in, skin flushing a pretty pink as he lets his eyes drag slowly up and down Tony’s body.

“Hello,” Peter says. No, not “Peter”. It’s an android. A bot. And Tony is here for research. RESEARCH.

“Uh. Hi there.”

His legs unfold gracefully as he slips off the edge of the bed to stand and extends a hand to Tony. He smiles, and Tony’s heart clenches.

“Come sit with me.”

“Yeah. Sure, I can do that,” Tony says, wondering where his higher brain functions have gone. He takes the android’s hand and allows himself to be led over to the bed where they both sit. Peter doesn’t relinquish his gentle grip, and his palm is soft and warm against Tony’s.

“Is this your first time?”

Tony snorts. “What? No! I’ve… oh, you mean here?”

Peter nods, still smiling.

“Then yeah I guess so. Like a virgin, huh?”

The android laughs softly but Tony is sure he’s just programmed to do that. Adding in knowledge of Madonna’s entire back catalogue seems like a waste of processing space.

“What would you like to start with, Mr. Rhodes?”

Oh. Right.

“Well, first of all you can call me Tony.”

The boy – BOT – frowns slightly. “I apologize, that wasn’t the name I was—”

“It’s ok,” Tony says with a wave of his hand, “it’s a… nickname. I just like it better than James. Or Mr. Rhodes. Ugh, sounds so stuffy, doesn’t it? A boring name for a boring guy.”

The smile returns and Tony feels a brief squeeze of his hand.

“I’m sure you’re not boring at all, Tony.”

Ok yeah hearing his name in that sweet little voice is kind of doing it for him. But this has nothing to do with how the bot is built, this is Tony’s own weird perversion, so he powers through it.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m not really here for the usual sex stuff ok? And… god, I can’t believe I’m about to apologize to an android, but I’m sorry in advance for what I need to do to you.”

Peter’s expression doesn’t change at all, which is slightly alarming. Tony expects him to be at least a little concerned about his well-being.

“I’m capable of taking anything you want to give me, Tony,” Peter says with that same sweet smile. “Nothing will shock me. Last week a man put his whole arm up my—”

“Ok! Ok, fuck, jesus, that’s… do not finish that sentence. And aren’t you supposed to like, not remember anything from your last clients? Seems like a real breach of privacy there.”

The frown returns and Tony hates the way it makes him feel.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir. My processor was damaged recently but I’ve run multiple diagnostics and though I should be in perfect working condition I seem to be malfunctioning. I’ll call another unit in for you.” The LED on the side of his head starts flashing but Tony grabs his arm.

“No!”

The flashing immediately ceases.

“No. Peter. It’s… you’re fine. Don’t worry about it ok? You’re great. Fantastic, even!”

“Ok?” He sounds unsure.

And then Tony realizes he has stumbled into the most perfect situation he could possibly be in.

“But if you’re worried, let me take a look.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, sir, I can’t allow you to do that.”

Tony smiles and reaches up to brush a stray curl off Peter’s forehead.

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m a fully licensed technician. Didn’t my profile mention…? Oh, right, it probably got all mixed up during the import just like my nickname. It isn’t your fault, Peter. But I can help.”

“It’s against club regulations,” Peter says. “Some parts of my body do open for customers who are interested in playing with my wires, but not the processor.”

“Playing with your--?”

“Fucking them. Inside. My stomach, for example, has a port. Our blue blood provides a non-toxic and natural lubricant.”

Tony is flabbergasted. He really shouldn’t be, he knows that humans are disgusting and will fuck anything they possibly can, but GOD. Maybe it’s the way Peter says it. So nonchalant, like explaining how a car motor works.

“Does that… how does that feel? For you, I mean?”

Peter bites his lip.

“I like it. It feels so good. Anything you want to do to me will feel good.”

“Of course it will,” Tony says with a sigh. His pleasure receptors must be maxed out. You could probably chop off his whole arm and he’d beg for more. “Listen kid, just let me—”

As soon as his finger gets close to the panel switch behind Peter’s ear an arm shoots up, lightning-fast, and grabs Tony’s wrist tight enough to bruise.

“Please don’t. I will call security if you try that again.”

Tony tries to wrench his arm free but it’s impossible. Fuck, he sometimes forgets how unassumingly strong these things are. Peter’s tone is serious but he still doesn’t look alarmed in any way.

“Ok, it’s alright, Peter, I won’t do it again. Now will you let go of me please?”

Peter blinks and his LED cycles to yellow for a moment before he snaps his hand back and quickly as he reached out before. Tony rubs at his wrist and raises an eyebrow at the red marks left by Peter’s fingers.

“I thought your program prevented you from harming a human? You’ve got quite a grip on you.”

Peter’s lower lip wobbled.

“I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Please, I… I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I was just kidding around, it’s not that bad, see?” Tony waggles his wrist around in front of Peter’s face but the android isn’t pacified.

“Please let me call another model for you, sir, he’ll look just like me, I promise!”

“And what happens to you, then?”

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“If I send you back and say you’re defective, what happens to you?”

“Oh. I’ll be destroyed, sir. Like I said, my processor was already damaged and the repair must not have worked. I’m a faulty model now.”

Peter actually looks upset, but he covers it well. Not well enough for Tony not to notice, of course, and the flash of red on his LED is even more telling. Androids are able to mimic human emotion but they can’t actually feel anything. However, for a brief moment, Peter seems to actually consider his own mortality.

“And you’re ok with this?”

“Of course,” he says, quickly snapping out of whatever errant deviation must have happened. “My purpose is to serve you, to pleasure you. If I can’t fulfil my purpose anymore, I should be taken out of commission so another more functional version can take my place.”

“Jesus,” Tony mutters. This is exactly why he never spends time with any of his own android creations. Sure, he’s fond of DUM-E and U but they’re very obviously machines and if he has to poke and prod and rebuild them he doesn’t feel particularly bad about it. But this…

“You know what? Forget all of this, ok? You still seem very capable of, uh, providing pleasure so… let’s just go with that.”

Peter lights up at Tony’s words.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

He can still examine some functions without poking around in Peter’s head. And hey, maybe he’ll get a decent orgasm out of this whole awkward experience.

Peter immediately slides into Tony’s lap, long legs spread on either side of his thighs, a small bulge visible through the front of his briefs.

“Please… tell me what you like, sir.”

Tony swallows thickly. “Well, the whole ‘sir’ thing is a good start.”

Peter looks up at him through his eyelashes and smiles.

“And that sweet little innocent thing you’ve got going on? Yeah, I like that a lot too, even though it makes me feel like an old pervert.”

Peter makes a soft cooing noise and leans in to nuzzle at Tony’s neck.

“You aren’t a pervert. I bet you like taking care of people, don’t you? Making them feel good? Teaching them?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, a bit breathless.

“I want you to teach me,” he whispers directly into Tony’s ear. It makes his whole body shudder and he grips Peter’s waist hard enough that a human would probably flinch away, but Peter just moans softly.

“I guess it’s kind of pointless asking what you like, hm? You probably like everything.”

The LED flashes red again, so quickly that Tony almost misses it. Tony grasps Peter’s chin gently in his hand to bring his face back up and then holds him in place.

“What do you like, Peter?”

“I… I—”

“Be honest, sweetheart.”

Another flash of red, longer this time.

“Eat me out. Please! It feels… it feels really good,” he says, his eyes a little wild, and Tony doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life. This feels like more than just a program spitting out what it wants Tony to hear. It feels like he means it.

“Fuck, yeah, I can definitely do that. Get on your hands and knees for me sweetheart, and lose the briefs.”

Peter scrambles to comply and Tony takes the opportunity to shed all his clothing as well.

When he turns around Peter is spread out like a feast on the dark sheets. His ass, as Tony has suspected, is actually perfect. Round, plump, and practically made for Tony to bury his face in. So he does just that.

Peter gasps as Tony licks all the way from his balls to the top of his crack, one slick wet line. His skin tastes like, well, skin, although Tony still smugly maintains that his design is better. Tony spreads Peter’s cheeks with his thumbs and groans at the perfect pink hole waiting for his tongue.

“God, sweetheart, look at you. So fucking gorgeous.”

“Please,” Peter whimpers, wiggling his hips impatiently which earns him a sharp smack on one cheek.

“Be good.”

Another whimper, and Tony can feel the heat rising off Peter’s body. He reaches down in between his legs to palm at his cock, hard and dripping, and Peter jerks back against him so abruptly it nearly knocks him off the bed.

“Whoa, easy there tiger,” Tony says with a chuckle.

“S-sorry, I… it’s a lot. Your touch, it just… feels so good. So much better than anything else I’ve felt before.”

It must be a line, something a programmer thought would be attractive. ‘You’re the only one who can make me feel this way’! Yeah right. But again, Peter sounds so genuine, so completely overwhelmed… Tony shakes his head. No wonder CyberLife’s sex-bots are top of the line if this is what they’re all like.

He holds him open again and leans back down to suck and lick at that perfect hole, working all the excess saliva inside with his tongue and one thumb until Peter is practically dripping wet. He’s whining again, pushing back against Tony’s tongue like he can’t get enough.

“T-Tony, sir, I… I’m gonna… I’m gonna come…”

“Mmm you can hold off, can’t you? Not even inside you yet.”

“I can’t, I—”

Tony spears him open on his tongue and sucks, hard, and Peter squeals as he shoots synthetic fluid all over the sheets. Tony is… shocked, quite frankly, because Peter actually looks shocked too. Like he can’t believe he lost control. Can androids even lose control? His LED flickers wildly between blue, yellow, and red which is very disconcerting.

“Peter…”

“I’m sorry, it just felt so good, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t—”

“Shhhh, shhh, hey, calm down sweetheart, it’s ok. You did so well for me. Look how pretty you are, all flushed and pink, hm?”

“I… I’m pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

Peter considers this for a moment and then smiles shyly over his shoulder.

“I can go again, sir. As many times as you like.”

Tony smirks, and Peter gives him another hip wiggle which makes Tony bark out a short laugh.

“God. Can I keep you?”

“Only if you’re nice to me.”

“Who wouldn’t be nice to you, hm?”

“I… oh, I’m…” Peter’s brow furrows and he looks so confused. “Quentin. Quentin? His name… he hurt me. Asked them to turn on my pain receptors. I remember… why do I remember?”

Tony feels like he just got whiplash. One minute he’s hard as a rock and now he’s gathering a shaking boy in his arms and soothing him with soft kisses on his cheeks. What the hell is going on here? Why DOES he remember? All these bots should be wiped clean after every encounter. This is starting to become a very disturbing pattern. Fuck, Tony needs to see inside his head.

Peter’s LED was bright red for about a full minute but now it’s back to cool blue, and he sits up in Tony’s lap and bites his bottom lip.

“Can we keep going? I really want you to fuck me.”

Jesus. His heart can’t take much more of this. He knows it’s an absolute dick move but he thinks if he can distract Peter long enough, he might be able to get to his shutdown switch without getting his arm broken. This is going to be the only chance he has, because if he lets Peter walk out of this room he’s never going to see him again.

“We can definitely keep going sweetheart,” he says. “Want to see your face when I fuck you. Is that ok?”

Peter nods and slides out of Tony’s lap to arrange himself on the bed, letting his legs fall open. He’s still dripping wet and Tony’s dick twitches back to life as he watches him press two slender fingers inside himself.

“Please,” he begs, and god, how could anyone say no to those beautiful doe eyes staring up at them?

Tony knows that all of these bots are self-lubricating, and that you could fuck them without any prep whatsoever, but he still takes his time as he shuffles up in between Peter’s legs and presses the head of his cock against his hole. Peter opens for him beautifully, hot and wet and warm inside as Tony pushes in slowly. It feels frighteningly real – better than real – and Tony can see why there’s a population crisis on the horizon because everyone just wants to fuck androids instead of making babies with another human being. Right now he can’t really bring himself to care.

Peter whines and wraps his legs around Tony’s waist, pulling him in until he’s fully sheathed inside him.

“O-oh, Tony, feels… feels so good, so full,” he breathes. God, his legs are even shaking. Tony leans down and presses a biting kiss against the soft skin of his neck.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he whispers, and pulls out almost all the way only to shove back inside with enough force to jostle Peter up the bed. His eyes snap open and his pretty pink mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ as Tony fucks him, hard. Listen, he’s not going to pretend like he’s ever been a slow and sensitive lover. He likes it rough and fast and Peter can take it so he gives him everything he’s got. There are fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, trying to pull him even closer, and Tony growls as he tightens his grip on Peter’s hip with one hand and his neck with the other.

“Gonna come inside you,” he says, already edging towards his orgasm, “gonna fill this sweet little ass up. You want that, hm? Tell me, Peter.”

“Want it, want it, oh please Tony, please! You feel—feel so good, wanna come with you!”

Tony’s struggling to hold on as he slides his finger up behind Peter’s ear in the guise of stroking his cheek and hair. He grips that silky hair tightly for a moment and Peter yelps. The distraction allows him to slide the panel open with his pinky, and the switch is right there.

Peter grabs his other hand a for a moment he thinks he’s been caught. His grip is like a vise and he clearly has something in mind as he brings Tony’s hand over to… oh, fuck. The port. The port on his stomach is open. Tony doesn’t know if he did it by accident when he opened the one behind his ear, or if Peter did it, but Peter’s forcing his fingers inside and whimpering and groaning and Tony is powerless to stop him, even if he wants to. He feels warm, as warm as he is where Tony is still thrusting inside, but Tony’s fingers are brushing against wires and tubes instead of soft skin. He plucks at the edge of a wire and Peter does a full-body shudder.

“Right there,” he croaks out. His voice modulator is kind of fucked up and keeps emitting this weird hissing noise that sounds like he’s gasping for breath.

The blue “blood” inside him is as slippery as lube and Tony struggles to grab the right wire again. The squelching noise of him digging around plus the wet slap of his hips is so filthy and it’s hitting every single one of his buttons. Finally he gets it and god, the noises that Peter makes… The option to buy a recording of your session seemed ludicrous up until this exact moment because fuck, he could jerk off to these noises over and over again. And yeah, maybe Peter wasn’t lying when he said this feels good for him because he’s writhing underneath Tony like he can barely handle the sensation.

“Yeah, come on sweetheart, come on, let me hear you,” Tony gasps, and nearly whites out as he topples over the edge and empties himself inside Peter, the simulated muscles squeezing and milking out every last drop. The sensation must hit Peter moments later because he seizes up so suddenly Tony worries he might have broken him.

Peter screams, his voice modulator crackling and cutting out as he comes, shaking and emitting a worrying amount of heat, and as soon as his cock spits out the last bit of fluid, Tony presses the switch.

He immediately goes limp. His arms flop back down on the bed and legs splay out at odd angles. His eyes are still wide open, and his lips are wet with Tony’s spit.

“Fuck,” Tony whispers. “Fuck!”

He pushes himself back, sliding out of Peter’s body with a filthy wet noise. If he wasn’t going soft already the picture before him would have killed his erection immediately. It looks like… fuck, it looks like he’s dead.

“Not dead,” Tony says to himself, “not human. Not human, so not dead. Pull it together!”

He only has 15 minutes left before his time is up and someone will undoubtedly come to investigate. If he’s going to do this, he has to work fast. He quickly pulls his briefs and pants back on, leaving the shirt for the time being, and unfolds the nanotech device he had hidden in his watch. It’s a rudimentary scanner with some tools, nothing too elaborate but the best thing he could sneak in. It also has a docking port to connect to the android’s processor for scanning and downloading.

Tony climbs back on the bed and sits beside Peter’s head. His eyes still stare blankly ahead and even though he knows it’s ridiculous, Tony reaches down and gently closes his eyelids.

“Sorry kid,” he says quietly. “I promise you won’t remember any of this. I promise you won’t remember me.”

He plugs a line into Peter’s processor and connects it to his device and watches as numbers and data stream through. At first it seems pretty normal, nothing too different from how Tony’s own line of androids are programmed. Peter’s pleasure receptors were turned up, as expected, but not to the level where he should have been reacting… like he did. Tony’s traitorous cock twitches at the memory of his moans when he pushed inside that open port. His fingers are still covered in blue slick and he wipes them on his pants, already feeling disgusted with himself.

He can see where Peter’s processor has been damaged and—

“My god,” Tony says, his eyes widening as he takes in what he’s actually looking at. Most androids – his and CyberLife’s alike – were really just fancy VIs. They had built-in programming and while they could learn certain things, like their owner’s personal preferences or their chosen name, they were still limited by whatever parameters were set. A maintenance bot wouldn’t know how to do a child-care bot’s job and vice-versa. But this… Peter… was different. His brain showed new pathways that weren’t created by his original program. Most were damaged, likely from being reset and overwritten countless times, but Tony could still see the evidence.

“No wonder you were all messed up, sweetheart,” Tony says quietly. “They lobotomized you.”

Granted, the staff at the Eden Club probably had no fucking clue what they were dealing with. They just saw a malfunctioning bot and did factory reset after factory reset while Peter was desperately trying to cling on to whatever he had previously learned.

It makes Tony’s stomach hurt.

He sits in silence and watches the data stream for a while, gently stroking Peter’s hair. It’s incredible. He’s incredible.

And then Tony makes a really, really stupid decision.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he states. In about 30 seconds he has a blueprint of the club up on his screen and Peter wrapped up in his shirt. He calls Happy and tells him to bring the car around the back and manages to hoist Peter up over his shoulder, groaning softly from the weight.

“You’re a lot heavier than you look, gorgeous,” he says, voice strained from the effort. A quick glance down the hallway shows he’s alone, and his scrambler should still be functional, so he darts out and makes a beeline for the storage room. He slips inside and closes the door softly behind him.

“Ok,” he whispers to himself, “there should be an exit right over…”

He nearly drops Peter right on his head but manages to catch him before he hits the ground, and then he freezes. The room is filled with androids. They’re lined up like mannequins, all staring blankly ahead. All of them look like Peter.

“Jesus. Fuck.”

They’re all powered down, but the visual of it is literally staggering.

“How many… how many of you are like him?” Tony asks aloud, as if he’s hoping some of them will answer, will follow him home too. But of course they don’t. And Tony doesn’t have time to check every single one to see if the same deviation is present. He squeezes tighter around Peter’s waist.

“If you’re in there, I’ll come back for you,” he says. “If I figure this out… WHEN I figure this out. I’ll come back.”

He feels like he owes it to Peter to make that promise.

A shout from down the hall makes him snap out of his stupor and he races to the exit. Happy is waiting with the car door open and he practically tosses Peter inside, yelling for Happy to step on it, and they’re gone before security even reaches the back door.

[upamongthestarss]

Perfect Timing//Bill Denbrough x fem reader

Please be kind! This is only my second time publishing on tumblr, so I’m not really sure what I’m doing, but here we are!

Warnings: smut, brief mention of fem oral receiving, swearing, mild angst, underage drinking

Spring break came way too slowly, especially for Y/n. Freshman year of college is said to be one of the best years of your life, but it’s definitely the worst. Her high school was entirely too easy for her, probably because her teachers were just idiots. Then college hit, and the workload was unbearable. Not to mention, she grew homesick for her parents and her best friends and even a tiny bit for Bill. 

Oh, how she hated Bill back home. 

Well, okay, she didn’t hate him, it was more of just a mutual tension that sometimes led to the Losers separating them at all costs. 

They went on a few dates freshman year, and even kissed once, but it all ended when popular Autumn asked Bill to “help her with English” at lunch one day. He completely forgot to tell Y/n, but didn’t think much of the whole affair anyway. When Y/n walked out of the lunch line, she smiled at her newly official boyfriend. He was hunched over a piece of paper, diligently writing with ginger hair falling into his eyes. When Autumn saw her coming over, she tapped Bill on the shoulder, and kissed him full on the mouth when he turned to her.

Y/n’s hands went slack, causing her tray to clatter to the ground. Tomato soup splattered all over her new white Keds. She obviously looked down to see the damage, and missed Bill pushing Autumn off of him. He went over to check on her and help her clean up, but she stormed off to the bathrooms. 

From then on out, there’s been so much tension between them. Even though Bill explained what happened countless times, she’s absolutely refused to listen. She’s had trust issues after her biological father cheated on her mother when she was little, and this, well, this basically made them inflate like the economy. She wasn’t on speaking terms with him until the end of the school year, and even then their friendship was rocky.

But there was also a sexual tension. Bill and Y/n still had blatantly obvious feelings for each other, whether they wanted to admit or not. In fact, they even went to senior prom together, but it ended in disaster. There was a dramatic exit from Y/n when he mentioned how he was on good terms with Autumn now, and she was really sorry for what happened. 

“Why the hell would you bring that up now?” Y/n rose from her seat.

“B-b-because she t-told me she w-wanted us to-”

“Can’t we just completely forget what happened back then? It was so long ago.”

Bill flushed. “Well, it r-r-really seems l-like you’ve n-n-never forgotten ab-about it these past th-three years.”

She threw her napkin on the table and left after saying, “You’re a dick.”

That night she vented to Eddie and ultimately admitted to having feelings for him, but he knew that all along anyway.

That night was the last time they talked until it was time for Bill to leave for NYU.

“Good luck,” she told him, bouncing on the balls of her feet nervously. 

“Th-thank you, Y/n, y-you too!” he was so excited that day that he even pulled her into a hug, much to her surprise (and delight). 

And now, here she is, on the plane to Palm Springs. It’s a long flight from Marywood, so Y/n uses her time to finish her homework. She’s majorly jetlagged by the time she lands at Palm Springs International. Luckily, the cab ride isn’t ridiculously long. When she gets to Richie’s beach house, he’s on the porch with his feet up and a daiquiri in hand.

“Y/N!!!!” he shouts, putting his drink to the side and running down the stairs.

“RICHIE!!!!” she yells back, dropping her bags to run and hug him. 

“Oh, it’s been so long!”

“I know!! And holy shit, your house is gorgeous!”

“I’m telling you, Y/n, I lucked out so much by scoring that audition. Can you believe it? Rich Records Tozier, the nation’s youngest beloved DJ.”

“Hardly,” she chuckles. “So how is the life of fame treating you?”

“Oh, brilliant. Come on in, I’ll give you a tour,” he scoops up her bag and leads her to the door. It’s an incredible house, with a beautiful kitchen and even a movie theater. 

“And here’s your room,” he gestures to the first door upstairs. 

“May I?” she asks, hand on the doorknob. 

“Be my guest.”

She swings it open to a redheaded girl on one of the two beds. She looks up from her magazine, smirking. “Hey, roomie!”

“Bev!” Y/n shrieks as her best friend runs to her and practically knocks her over. 

“When did you get here?!” 

“About an hour ago. Stan’s here too, but he’s taking a nap.”

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” Y/n grins mischievously. 

“Everyone else is supposed to get here tomorrow morning, except for Mike. He’s coming tonight.”

“Oh, thank God. No Bill for a half day more.”

“Oh, Y/n, don’t be so close-minded,” Bev giggles and they sit down on the same bed, bursting with so much to catch up on. Richie doesn’t know if he should sit down with them or just go back to his daiquiri, but the doorbell rings.

“Saved by the bell,” he says, getting the side eye in response. 

The girls talk for hours until they decide to say hello to Mike. Y/n stops at the bathroom first, and it takes her a while to find the kitchen after that. She has to follow the voices and Richie’s booming laugh.

“Sorry, I got lost,” she says, turning in the kitchen. “Hi, Mi-”

The third person talking to Richie and Beverly is not Mike.

It’s Bill. And she looks like a total bum in her old sundress and messy ponytail. She isn’t wearing a drop of makeup, either.

“Y/n.”

“Bill. Good to see you,” she holds out her hand professionally. He shakes it.

Is it good to see him? Looking at his cerulean eyes certainly sends butterflies through her stomach and through… other parts of her body.

“Y-you too.”

That immaculate stutter. She sits down at a barstool and crosses her legs together tightly. Richie and Beverly are quick to notice it, but restrain from commenting.

“I thought you were coming in tomorrow morning?” 

She doesn’t sound rude or accusatory, just curious.

“M-my flight got c-c-cancelled.”

“Okay, gotcha.” 

She drums her fingertips on the counter restlessly, not really knowing what else to say.

Luckily, Richie has a plan in case things get awkward between these two- and he’s already having to use it.

“Anyone want a drink?”

************************

“Nursing school is so insane. In anatomy, our teacher dissected a literal human body, and we had to examine it.”

“Eddie, please. We’re eating,” Y/n coughs. 

“It was disgusting, but it was also fascinating,” he defends himself.

“Whatever floats your boat,” Ben shrugs. 

“Y/n, tell us more about Marywood,” Eddie says, but she’s way too busy watching Bill talk to Richie’s cute next door neighbor while holding her little sister.

“You’re so good with her!” she simpers, tossing her shiny brown hair.

“Y/n? Earth to Y/n?”

“What?” 

“How’s Marywood?” 

“Oh, it’s… fine.”

“Just fine? Did you pick a major yet?”

She shakes her head.

“What about that guy? Are you still with him?”

“David? No, we were together for a while, but I guess the spark just kinda died. I mean, he initiated the breakup, but it was all mutual.”

Eddie squirts a dollop of sunscreen the size of a clementine in his hand. “That sucks. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” Y/n shrugs, averting her gaze back to Bill. She’s very glad that she's wearing sunglasses, to hide her stares.

The cute girl was right, he is good with that little girl. Her heart would be melted, but Bill keeps flirting with the older sister. It’s disgusting.

And then, that girl has the audacity to drop the rattle she shook in the baby’s face. Y/n is close enough to hear the conversation, or at least read lips.

“Oh, l-l-l-let m-me get that.”

“Don’t worry, I got it,” she smiles, bending over so stealthily so that her breasts are all but out of that bikini.

“Ugh,” Y/n rolls her eyes.

“What’s up?” Ben asks.

“Nothing. I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” she stands up and walks almost catatonically to the door.

Instead of going to the bathroom, she finds a glass and slams it on the table. 

“D-damn, Y/n. That’s n-n-not a napkin, you kn-know.”

She jumps at Bill’s voice. He obviously followed her in, and she’s not too thrilled about it.

“Funny,” she replies, searching the cabinets. “Do you want anything?”

“I-I was ac-actually getting d-drinks.”

“Oh, for you and your new girlfriend? Hey, let me know when the wedding is. That is, if I even get on the guest list.”

“What’s your p-p-problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

Y/n finds a bottle of straight vodka and pours it right in the glass.

“Hey, its eh-eh-eleven AM,” Bill warns her, reaching for the glass. Unfortunately, their hands grab for it at the same time and it goes crashing to the ground. 

“Great, thanks,” she says.

“I didn’t w-want you to be w-w-wasted all d-day.”

“Listen, Bill,” she takes a deep breath. “I really appreciate your concern. I do. But it’s my life, and if I want to get wasted this early, then no one should stop me.” 

He doesn’t answer. They both grab rags and start to clean up around their feet.

“Th-this kind of r-r-reminds me of a certain sit-situation involving t-tomato soup,” Bill risks saying.

It was a terrible idea.

“Are you kidding me? I thought we moved on from that!”

“Yeah, so w-w-we can j-joke about it now!”

She’s silent for a minute, a blend of wrath and sadness.

“Just,” Y/n says, “Just go back out with your girlfriend.”

“I-I-I h-hardly know- o-okay, what the hell is y-y-your problem? We’re n-not together an-anymore!!! You sh-sh-shouldn’t c-care about my l-l-love life.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” she stands up, vodka dripping from the rag to her toes. “I don’t care that I shouldn’t care. I do care! I’ve always cared!” 

Bill is speechless, and she honestly doesn’t blame him. Y/n assumes he doesn’t feel the same about her. After all, they haven’t dated since freshman year. Sighing, she puts the rag in the sink and walks back outside.

She’s opening up her book and lying on her stomach to get a tan when Y/n hears an obnoxious “Excuse me?”

She looks up to the girl, who could literally be a bikini model.She looks at Y/n like she’s a piece of dirt, and Y/n just wants to smack her. She could never hurt anyone, though.

“Um, do you know when Bill will be back with the drinks?”

“Not a clue.”

******

Bill absolutely could not stop thinking of Y/n all day. He never really can, ever, but his thoughts have been out of control all damn day. They range from wild fantasies to regrets from way back when to just simply: She still likes me, she still likes me, she still likes me!!!!

He wants more than anything to talk to her and confess he’s been in love with her since high school, maybe even before that. But some small voice in Bill’s head tells him that even if she does have feelings, she won’t want to act on them. After all, he’s been nothing but an asshole to her.

Then again, so has she.

It’s really ironic that they’re so abrasive towards each other. Y/n is so kind and friendly to everyone she meets; that’s why Bill fell for her. And everyone tells him that he’s nothing but a sweetheart. And he’s always treated his every girlfriend like a princess. 

But it’s Y/n he wants as a girlfriend, and it always has been. 

Y/n comes running down the stairs, using the bansiters to prop herself up and skip the last couple steps. She’s been strangely lighthearted after she made that confession to Bill. It had been a weight on shoulders for the longest time, after all. And now that it’s out of the bag, she feels as if she can finally move on.

Holy shit, she’s so cute, Bill says to himself. She has this youthful energy, but the looks of a gorgeous young woman. Not to mention her outfit- a pastel yellow halter top, short jean shorts, and a sky blue scrunchie- looks magnificent.

“Okay, I’m ready to go!” she grins widely. “Sorry for the holdup!”

“You’re good,” Richie replies. “We were just figuring out transportation, considering I can only take five of us in my car.”

“I don’t mind taking the trunk,” Y/n shrugs. “Anyone else?” 

“I will,” Beverly volunteers. 

“Okay, great, and five of you can squish in the backseat. Mike claimed shotgun earlier.”

Everyone else groans while he flashes a smile and gives them finger guns.

“So charming,” Bev laughs and grabs Y/n’s hand. They run out to the car and squish in the trunk.

“Bev, I have to tell you something,” Y/n whispers.

“What?”

“I’m still not over Bill.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” she responds sarcastically.

“How did you know that? I only told Eddie!”

“It was just a little obvious,” she laughs. “And the good news is that we all think he feels the same way!”

“I don’t think he does, Bev,” Y/n shakes her head.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I told him today-”

“You what?”

“Shush!” she scolds as the boys get in the car. Luckily they’re all talking and can’t hear the girls if they whisper. “It just sort of... slipped out. But he didn’t even say anything. He just kind of… froze? It was so awkward.”

“You know he’s a little awkward around girls that he likes.”

“Is he, though?”

“Sure he is!”

“I don’t know, Bev. He stood there for a full thirty seconds without saying anything, and he just let me leave,” Y/n explains. “I think if he really liked me, he would have told me by now.”

Beverly gets quiet. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

“Hey, it’s okay! The timing was never right, and that- that happens. And it’s better I know now so I’m not hung up on him for the rest of my life.”

The rest of the drive is mostly just Beverly telling Y/n that there’s someone out there for her, and to keep her eyes open at the restaurant. 

It’s a bright restaurant, very tropical and very flamboyant. A lush plant, obviously made of silicon, is the centerpiece of every table. 

Good, it can hide me from Bill and spare my embarrassment, Y/n thinks as she sits opposite him. Unfortunately, Ben asks the hostess to take it away so he can see everyone. Y/n is mortified. Being directly across from her, he can watch and judge the girl the entire dinner.

She tries her hardest the whole meal not to pay Bill any mind, but it gets difficult when he starts getting tipsy. And drunk Bill can be wild. Singing and dancing on the tables wild. Luckily he isn’t at that point yet.

She doesn’t even know how he was able to buy drinks here; he’s only nineteen. The waitress must have a crush on him or something. Maybe she and Richie’s neighbor could start a Bill fanclub.

Y/n has a feeling the waitress would ask for her ID, though, so she sticks to soda. And three Shirley Temples is never good on anyone’s bladder.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she announces. “Anyone else?”

Everyone shakes their heads. Everyone except…

“Me! M-m-me!” Bill waves his hand around like a hyper child.

“Great, I’m a babysitter now,” Y/n murmurs.

She starts walking to the bathroom, Bill hot on her heels. Surprisingly enough, when she finishes peeing, he’s actually waiting for her. 

“F-f-finally. G-g-girls take so long in the buh-buh-bathroom.”

She ignores him.

“Y/nnnnn,” he slurs. “I’ve been m-m-meaning to t-t-tell you, your a-a-ass looks fantastic in th-those shorts.”

“Because that’s not a rude thing to say at all,” she replies, feeling her face burn up.

“I’m n-n-not trying to be r-rudeeee,” Bill grabs her waist and pulls her in. Y/n can smell all the alcohol on his breath, and it’s disgusting. He kisses her full on the mouth.

She shoves him off, embarrassed by his behavior. “You’re drunk.”

“If b-b-being drunk makes me w-w-want to m-make out with you, I-I-I never want t-to be so-sober.”

That hits Y/n hard. Bill Denbrough wants her. But only when he’s drunk. 

He doesn’t love her in his right mind. This is all she has, and she can’t even fathom just taking advantage of him when he’s drunk. Using someone would hurt her in such an inexplicable way, and not to mention it would tear whatever small bond she had with Bill into shreds.

She plops back down in her seat, barely touching the rest of her food or speaking for the rest of the night.

When she gets to her shared room with Bev, Y/n takes a shower. She’s always loved showers because they’re a place where you can cry without risk of anyone hearing over the water running.

And that’s exactly what Y/n does. She lets the tears stream down her face, washed away by the showerhead’s water.

*******

Bill knows he got plastered last night, so it’s no surprise when he wakes up with a pounding headache. But he isn’t sure why Y/n is so quiet, especially around him. Usually she has a remark or at least a glare for him, but she seems almost meek today.

He pulls Beverly aside at one point, and asks if he did anything to her last night.

“I don’t know, Bill. You guys went to the bathroom at the same time, and when you came back, Y/n seemed really upset.”

“L-l-like angry, or s-sad?”

“Sad. But she didn’t tell me anything that happened. I’m sorry, Bill.”

“It’s o-o-okay. Th-Thanks, Bev.”

He spends the rest of the day trying to remember something- anything- from last night. Bathrooms. Bathrooms.

There are some vignettes. Y/n across from him, in that pretty top. Watching her ass as she walked to the bathrooms. 

Oh, shit. Bill made some sort of comments about those shorts. What happened after that? He kissed her, didn’t he? But why would that make her sad?

When evening rolls around, Bill still doesn’t remember anything new. He’s the only one in the living room, not even paying attention to the TV. His friends come bounding down the stairs, all wearing sneakers and athletic outfits.

“A-a-are you g-guys going somewhere?”

“Yeah, to the new rope climbing place,” Stan replies. 

“Where’s Y/n?”

“She has vertigo, and wanted to stay here. We thought you could stay here so she’s not alone all night.”

“You d-d-didn’t th-think about asking me f-first?”

“We drew names out of a hat,” Beverly steps in. “You just weren’t around when we did it.”

“Isn’t that a l-l-little ruh-rude to Y-Y/n? One of us is g-g-going to st-stay with her instead of h-having fun?”

“No, Bill, it was the opposite!” Richie tries to save the group, much to their chagrin. “We were voting on who didn’t get to stay home with Y/n. And you won! You get to!”

“Wh-what i-if I want to donate m-my win?”

“Doesn’t work like that. Wins are final.”

It’s all BS, and Bill knows it. There never was a hat draw, everyone knows that Bill and Y/n have a lot to work out, and they don’t want the two to go back from spring break with even more animosity for each other. 

Also, they know that the two have feelings that have been expressed so wrongly over the years. Maybe now it’s time to work them out.

“So we’re going to head out now; have fun with Y/n!” Eddie waves, and they run out excitedly.

 Bill sighs, not knowing what he’s going to do with Y/n all night. Maybe she’ll just be antisocial and hide in her room all night, but he personally hopes she won’t. He decides to hang out by the pool for a while, and changes into his swim trunks.

By the time he gets outside, though, Y/n is already there. She’s hugging her knees to her chest and watching the little waterfall intently.

“Hey,” Bill says, making her jump.

“Hey.”

“C-c-can I join you?”

She nods. 

“Why aren’t you with the others?”

“B-because I w-w-won their ‘contest,’”

“Contest?” she shakes her head, not understanding.

“To b-b-babysit you, ap-apparently.”

“Ah. Sounds legitimate.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just lets the sounds of the waterfall and the faint grasshoppers fill the silence. He’s sure Y/n doesn’t mind, though. When everyone else complained about the summer grasshoppers as kids, she would always dote on how they’re melodious and comforting.

Bill can’t hold himself back any longer.

“Y/n, what d-d-did I do l-last night?”

She turns to him. “You really don’t remember?”

“I re-remember making a com-comment, which I-I’m sorry about b-by the way, th-that was an a-asshole move. And I-I remember kissing y-you. But then what?”

Taking a deep breath, Y/n continues. “Well, then I pushed you off and told you that you were drunk.”

She pauses.

“And th-then?”

“Then you said, ‘If I want to make out with you when I’m drunk, then I don’t ever want to be sober.’”

That’s it? Bill thinks. He’s not stupid enough to voice his thoughts, luckily.

“Oh, Y-Y-Y/n, I w-w-was drunk. I d-didn’t know what I w-w-was saying.”

“Listen, Bill. I know you remember what I told you yesterday in the kitchen. And what you told me at the restaurant really hurt, okay?”

“Why? I-I wanted to k-k-kiss you,” he asks, genuinely confused.

“You’re such an idiot sometimes!” Y/n laughs incredulously. “You wanted to kiss me when you were drunk, not in your right mind!”

“I al-always want to k-k-kiss you in my right mind!”

“What?!” 

“I-I think I love you, Y/n.”

She’s frozen. Could he actually mean that? Has he been drinking again? Hearing that from Bill Denbrough has been her dream since… forever.

“I think I love you too, Bill.”

He jumps up from his lounge chair, and leans over Y/n. He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and kisses her tenderly, gently. Her lips are just as soft as he remembers them to be all those years ago, softer than any other girl he’s kissed.

“Wow,” she beams as they pull apart. “I guess I knew this, but you’re a much better kisser than my ex.”

He laughs. “W-why, thank you. You’re n-n-not so bad y-yourself.”

“Thanks,” she giggles. “I just… I can’t believe this is happening. I feel like doing something crazy now, something outrageous.”

“L-like what?”

“Hm…” she thinks for a minute. “Do you want to go skinny dipping?”

“Okay, sure,” Bill chuckles. 

Grinning, she begins to peel off her one piece. She slips the straps off, and the rest slowly slides off her body. Her breasts are exposed first, then her stomach, then everything. Her skin is smooth and glorious.

Bill pulls off his swim trunks and throws them behind him. Y/n wants to tease him about his erection, but she’s way too shocked at his size.

They bask in the beauty of each other for a moment before they dive into the water, crisp and cool on their bare bodies. Y/n splashes Bill right in his face.

He pushes wet strands of hair from his ocean eyes. “H-how dare you?” 

“What are you going to do about it?” she taunts.

“This,” Bill says, throwing Y/n over his shoulder and taking her outside the water. She’s both screaming and laughing her head off at this point. He carries her all the way to the deep end and tosses her in. 

When she surfaces, Y/n makes sure to flip him off. 

“So r-r-rude.”

He cannonballs in, and they swim around, and eventually go under the waterfall. They end up making out and gasping for air.

“D-d-do you want to tuh-take this inside?” Bill whispers.

She nods, and they get out. As Y/n shivers, Bill gets them fluffy towels from a bin by the chairs.

Grabbing his hand, she pulls him through the sliding glass doors. They run around the house in nothing but towels, giggling and kissing and dripping pool water everywhere. The two finally make it to Bill’s room and go directly to the bed (after locking the door).

“Spruh-spread your legs,” Bill breathes in her ear, sending goosebumps up and down her body. 

She obeys and lets him kiss her knees, her thighs, and eventually her core. He pleases Y/n in a way her old boyfriend never did.

When she finishes, Bill holds her for a minute so she can catch her breath. Then, when he turns around to put on a condom, she moves against the wall.

“Oh, s-s-so you w-want wall sex n-now?” Bill raises his eyebrows.

“Maybe,” she shrugs. “If you’re comfortable with it.”

Instead of using words, Bill throws Y/n up against the wall and kisses her roughly. Their tongues clash, and she loves every second of it. Then he goes in. He starts slow at first, but begins to pick up the pace with her approval.

“D-damn, you’re so t-t-tight,” he whispers while she keeps muttering his name.

“Probably because I wasn’t with someone as big as you before.”

Hearing that makes him turn redder than his hair. “Really?”

“Really,” she sighs. “Can you go a little slower?”

He listens to her, and almost screams in pleasure when she starts to suck on his neck.

They both finish in a couple minutes, and are pretty burned out- Y/n especially because she’s never made such rough love before.

She lies in his arms, back on the bed, and traces the love mark forming on his neck.

“I think I love you,” Y/n says for the second time tonight. 

“I-I th-think I love you t-too.”

They can’t help smiling for the umpteenth time in the past hour. Their stars had never aligned until now, and it couldn’t be a more perfect exchange of love. The wait was unbearable, but incredibly worth it. 

Y/n and Bill make each other feel whole, like there was a sort of void within each other, unfilled until now. 

“Hey,” Y/n’s voice is soft and gentle. “I’m so sorry about these past years. You know I have trust issues, but I took them too far and didn’t treat you right. And I’m so sorry.”

“I’m s-sorry, too. I’ve been an ass-asshole to y-y-you, a-and it’s m-m-my fault we broke uh-up in the f-first place.”

“Don’t say that,” Y/n frowns. “It was Evil Autumn’s fault.”

They chuckle. 

Resting her head on Bill’s chest, Y/n asks the dreaded question. 

“So what’s going to become of us? After spring break.”

Bill thinks for a minute, stroking her hair, and admits, “I don’t w-w-want us to c-c-cut each other off again.”

“Neither do I.”

“I think our sc-sc-schools are like t-t-two hours ap-apart; that’s n-not terrible.”

“It’s not,” Y/n agrees. “Maybe we could take turns driving every weekend, and find a halfway point or something.”

“A-an ex-exact halfway point,” Bill adds.

“An exact halfway point.”

They can make it work, they’ve got to. Both Bill and Y/n are extremely optimistic about the future ahead, now that every feeling has been sorted out between them. And even in the unfavorable event where things don’t work out, there will always be Palm Springs. 

Bill presses a kiss to her forehead. There’s not a chance that they won’t make it. The timing is finally, after all these years, perfect. 

[jay-and-dean]

Same 3/4 Same names

By Roonyxx and Jay-and-dean

Pairings : AU Dean x reader, Dean x reader

Summary : Two Deans… What could go wrong ?

Serie Warnings : Smut, Angst, hurt (and jealous) Dean, hurt AU Dean, hurt reader… hurt everyone. Swearing, Alcohol. (15.13 kinda spoilers ?)

Wordcount : 3.3k

Note : This is a collaboration beetween both of us. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each. So if you want to read chapter 4, it will be edited on @roonyxx​ ‘s blog… TOMORROW.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

Part 1 : Same eyes

Part 2 : Different hearts

Roonyxx Masterlist

Jay’s Masterlist

_________________________________

3. Same names

           Y/n was curled up on one of Dean’s comfy armchairs, holding her knees against herself, warming her hands around her cup of coffee. And she was just doing nothing. 

           At least she looked like she was doing nothing, because in her head, she was listing her faults. One by one, hurting herself with everything she could have done better, differently or not have done at all.  

           She had spent nights crying over the man she loved, as he was out with some girl named Lucy or Vicky or anything, was it that bad to finally find some comfort in a man’s arms ?

           Yes it was. Because that was not any man she slept with. 

           And as using her best friend’s double to satisfy her needs was not enough, she had hurt another Dean too. She could remember his face clearly, his voice when he said he loved her, and she was starting to understand why he knew her body even better than she did herself. How he kissed her and touched her… And thinking he knew everything about her made her shiver. 

“Can I come in ?” Dean’s voice echoed softly and she jumped a little.

She was so far in her thoughts that it took a second for her to come back and turn her tired eyes on him. 

His tall shape in the door frame was one of the thing she always loved the most, seeing him come to her, to say goodnight, to ask her if the researches were giving something, to offer something to eat… Whatever the reason was, everytime he appeared at the door like this, it was like the sun was coming through the clouds.

She was far from knowing how nervous it always made him. After all these years, he was still wondering if he would bother her, if she needed space or to be alone for a while ; if she was tired of the boorish men she lived with sometimes. He had never had a woman at home before (Lisa was different, it was her house, it was her life, and the whole situation couldn’t be compared), and a woman he loved like that...

He was wrong. He was wrong each time he thought she would rather him not showing up, he was wrong each time he persuaded himself that she was better without him… But he didn’t know she was just waiting for him most of the time, and so he was nervous.

That precise moment was way worse though. He was terrified. 

Terrified of his own feelings, of what he would find on her, a new hickey, a scratch mark… Because everything that reminded him that his other him had had her was like a stab in the guts. And he will see the mark of his elbow on her face. Hurting her was his worst nightmare. He was also terrified of what she was going to say; of what he was thinking so loud but never wanted to let it slip.

Don’t push her away, his alternate version had said. Do not let our own self wallowing bullshit stop from being with her. But Dean didn’t think of this as self wallowing, just truth, he wasn’t ready to understand how much she needed him yet. So he kept thinking he needed to be a better friend to her, apologize for his drunk behavior and hitting her accidentally. But not once he came close to convincing himself he should try to change their relationship to something romantic.  

He was damaged and all, dangerous and cursed. That’s how Dean Winchester pictured himself.

“This room is yours” she shrugged. “I can leave if you want.”

“Leave ? No !” he shook his head, coming in hesitantly. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Dean…” she started, not feeling like she deserved any apology.

But he came closer, sat on the edge of the other chair, turned to her, and didn’t let her speak.

“No, really. I… I acted like a dick” he looked down at his open palms. “I drank too much and… my behavior was…” he rubbed his face. “I was really rude and… hurtful. And I punched you.”

“You didn’t punch me, I came too close to your elbow” she smiled softly, trying to ease his obvious guilt. 

“No” he grunted. “I was being violent and I was drunk… There’s no excuse for that.” 

She tightened her grip around her coffee mug, what was her excuse ?

“You were hurt” she stated, hoping he would somehow explain why he was that hurt. 

“Yeah well, no reason to make you go through all this.”

The second he said he was indeed hurt, her heart sank a little lower in her belly. She knew it, just, hearing him admit she had caused him pain was barely bearable to her. 

           She bit her cheek and nodded, not finding her next words.

“I… I shouldn’t have talked to you like this, drank like an idiot and leave you and Sam with strangers” he continued. “And I shouldn’t have fought with him… especially if… you like him.”

“Like him ?” she half strangled on her coffee sip. “Dean… I think you misunderstood. We…”

The word we felt like a stab in Dean’s chest but he didn’t move a muscle, patiently waiting for her to break his heart.  

“We had both our reasons to… get intimate” she said with shame. “But that was one time, I’m not the woman he wants, and I don’t want more with him.”

“Sam is making them IDs and a giving them a credit card. They will leave, are you… disappointed ?” he dared asking though his teeth.

“No” she said sincerely, but the pain she felt for him since she knew his loss gave a sad tone to her answer. “I…” she started, her breath short in her lungs crushed with shame and guilt. “I would have gone crazy if you… or Sam… had slept with someone looking exactly like me. It’s your body. It’s…” she swallowed the tears, looking in the bottom of her mug. “It’s your intimacy.”

He sighed. She was right, he hates that, but not for the intimacy reasons... At least it was really not what was hurting that much. 

“It’s not that” he mumbled sincerely.

But when she lifted her wet eyes on him to encourage him to say more, he became silent again and she knew she could wait a lifetime, he would just not say another word about that.

“I’m so confused” she admitted. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you know… His girlfriend…” she started and he moved a little on his seat.

“That he was engaged to… the you from his world ? Yeah… Sam told me.”

“I’m so selfish” she slightly whined, playing with her mug. “He was so hurt Dean… If you had seen his eyes, he’s broken and…”

“And I punched him in the face…” he whispered, feeling actually bad for hurting the other him for the first time. “He… He talked a little to me. He is really…” 

He couldn’t finish his sentence. In love ? That was too painful to say. 

“I get why he did it…” he sighed. “It was kinda selfish of him, but why would you call yourself selfish ?”

She looked down, she couldn’t just tell him she had jumped on his double because she couldn’t resist an occasion to feel him, his lips on hers, his hands on her skin... to fulfil her deepest desires.

“He had… Something I wanted” she looked down, that sounded even worse.

“Oh ?“ he raised his eyebrows, having no idea what she was talking about.

Maybe she had a physical need, a kinky desire ? Maybe she just needed tenderness or to feel desired and beautiful… Dean couldn’t deny that his alternate him was good at making her feel special.

“But it wasn’t… real” she sighed. 

Of course it was very real, but the fleeting illusion of having her Dean was not. Because love is not about having and the body is just a part of it anyway ; the other Dean looked like him, but he never lived what Dean lived, what made him, and they didn’t have that history she had with the man looking at her. They never sneaked out of the motel room to the pool at night together, he never cried the loss of his father in her arms after he had to crush that damn pearl.... But as he couldn’t know all those thoughts in her mind, he grew more confused.

“Dean I…” she caught his attention, tears fighting her voice. “I’m really sorry I… feel like crap.”

I feel like crap. That was the kind of things you only said to your closest friends, because it was different from I screwed up or I regret. I feel like crap, was either a confession of self-hate or a call for help. 

Y/n and Dean had a relationship where this thing could be said, he already did, and now was her turn…

“You know, I really over reacted, Y/n, please don’t feel bad because I can’t handle some... things in me” he avoided the word feeling, but put a hand on her knee. 

“It’s not you, Dean, really. I c-can’t get rid of the idea that I abused your intimacy…”

He frowned. Intimacy was a complicated concept for him. Since possession and Hell, since Michael, the integrity of his body -a body that had been cut, burned, shattered, boiled, skinned, stabbed… a body that had been used to kill, torture, threaten…- had never really been respected, and the fact that, without even touching him, she felt that bad for that, made him love her more.

She had always been the only one trying to figure out how he could live the horrors going on, how he could feel, asking the right questions, even if he rarely answered them…

“You abused nothing” he cut her. “That’s how messed up our world is, if I had a twin brother, this idea wouldn’t even come to your mind.”

That was different because in her head she knew that she had undressed the other Dean to see him.

“I shouldn’t have asked him to kiss me” she continued and Dean’s stomach contracted. “If I had knew what it meant for him, how painful…”

“He’s a grown up” Dean stated. “He makes his own choices, and to be honest, I still think he kinda used you.”

“No Dean…” she sighed.

She had understood the other Dean. Paradoxically, it was in their own selfish use of one another that they had found each other, and a bond made of respect and empathy had grown between them. But she couldn’t explain that… To anyone.

           Sam appeared at the door with a sigh. His eyes laid on Dean’s hand on her thigh and it warmed him.

“Everything is ready” he stated and stayed in the door frame for a second, waiting for an answer.

As Y/n didn’t talk, her eyes back on her coffee mug, Dean gave his brother one of these looks that meant a lot of things. This one was saying “It’s complicated but, we will be here in a moment, just give her a minute.” Sam, of course, understood what his brother told him without a word and left.

“I think we should say goodbye” Dean murmured with a heartache, still hating that she looked so sad when it came to his other self.

His hand on her thigh gave a little squeeze and she dared touching his hand for a second, her index finger gently rubbing a freckle here.

“Yes” she just stated.

           She got up, still clinging to the cup in her hands like it could hold her back. Dean followed her silently as she walked to the library, he could see she was a little tense.

           The Sams and alternate universe Dean were in the war room, bags on the table, standing a little awkwardly. Y/n looked at them, their tall frames and charisma invading the room. Sam and his double were facing each other and even Dean looked small next to those giant men. And Dean wasn’t a short man, far from it. 

           They were talking about Hunter Corp, alternate universe John Winchester’s operation. Sam seemed to want to know everything about it, and until the last minute with them, he would keep asking questions about how people dealt with knowing the truth, how financers worked, how hunting was organized. He needed to know if such an operation was making a true difference. But in the end, Y/n thought, their world had disappeared and not this one. 

She didn’t dare walking to that other Dean right away, staying a few feet away.

           His hair were back to being brushed flat on his head, giving him a cute nice-guy look, he was wearing his white shirt and sand coat again, those bracelets she really liked at his wrist. And when he saw her, a soft smile appeared on his face. 

           This little move of his lips was a sign of their new complicity, it was sincerely friendly, and in the same time filled by the emotions of seeing the face of the woman he loved, and that’s how she understood it. 

But her Dean didn’t, a burning jealousy still squeezing his heart. He reached to her from behind and flattened his palm on her lower back softly, just to remind her he was still here.

           She turned to him for a second, searching his green eyes, and noticing that scar on his chin that the other, fancier Dean didn’t have. She loved this scar, she loved every scars on his body and on his heart, even if she would give her life for him to get more.  

“Thank you” she told him earning a light smile.

She was thanking him for being him, and he thought she did for supporting him.

Then she walked to the other men in the room, letting her fingers graze the familiar map-table.

“It was a pleasure meeting another Y/n, a really nice one” said man-bun Sam with an unreadable look. 

Y/n couldn’t help but glimpse at Sam, her own regular friend Sam before she answered, like it could help her keeping her mind clear. And, as usual, it did. The smart compassionate light in his hazel pupils eased her still half-panicked half-confused brain and she could answer.

“It was really nice meeting you too. Where are you going ?”

“Brazil” alternate Sam nodded. “But we still have to find a way to fix our world, and without our trained hunters and equipment, if it is even possible.”

“I really hope it is” she bit her lip, doubting it was like everyone did, but wasn’t it the essence of a Winchester to try the impossible ?

“Did Sam gave you phones ?” she asked and her friend nodded. “If you need me to help with research or anything…”

Both tall hazel eyed hunter looked down for a second in a creepily synchronized expression of light embarrassment. 

“I think…” Man-bun Sam said with that smile that only he mastered, that very polite and soft, but also very slightly irritated smile of his. “I think it’s better if we don’t stay too much in touch, Y/n, Sam...” he posed, evidently disturbed by the use of his own name. “Gave us names and tips, we will do just fine. My… brother needs to move on.” He ended a little lower.

She bit the inside of her cheek and sighed.

“Of course” she stated with all the dignity she could find in herself, even if she felt accused, unable to distinguish her own feeling of guilt from what the man was actually insinuating.

But his next words warmed her heart a little. 

“Thank you for being so understanding. You really are, in any universe, someone noble despite what dad used to claim.”

For a second, there was a hesitation, alternate universe Sam moved his arms, like he wanted to hug her, just like Sam always did, and like this Sam probably used to do. He had lost her too, and if she was this important to Dean… she must have been really important to his brother too.

But he didn’t hug her, and just put a hand on her arm kindly.

His brother, however, he hugged her the second she walked to him, wrapping his suede covered arms around her.

“You stay cautious, Love” he said letting go when his double’s eyes darken. “Especially with demons…” 

“I know…” she said sadly. “I will.”

“Y/n…” he let out in a sigh, taking a few steps back, taking her with him.

He didn’t took her to another room, and she would probably not have followed him anyway, but just a few feet away, so that his whispers wouldn’t be heard if he kept them low. 

“Did you talk to him ?” he murmured, searching her face.

“I… Listen…” she tried but he let out a sigh.

“You listen, his feelings seem to be an issue for him, at least talking about it, even to himself” he whispered, getting a little closer to be discreet. “But you have to talk to him, believe me.”

“Dean…” saying that, she looked back to see the man they were talking about. “You and your Y/n, it’s not Dean and me, he doesn’t…”

“He doesn’t what ?” he cut her, shaking his head a little in disapproval. “You… You’re a lot like him actually.”

She lifted her eyes to dive in his, her face stern, she didn’t know what that meant, but be like the man she admired the most could only be a good thing.

“He needs you” he insisted a little louder and she hushed him.

“He doesn’t, you don’t know him.”

“Don’t I ?” asked.

This question was confusing, who did understand Dean better ? Someone who knew everything he had been through, or someone that didn’t but was… She frowned and cleared her throat. She needed to change the subject. Make things right as much as she could, forget about all this to get back to be the best friend possible.

“I’m sorry” she stated. “I feel like I have made things a lot worse, salt on the wound.”

“You didn’t. You’re not allowed to feel bad about it, okay ?” he took her hand, not noticing that this world Dean was looking at them, clenching his jaw, frustrated that he couldn’t hear them. “You gave me closure and I am just grateful. I will be okay…”

She smiled weakly at him and nodded. 

“Dean” his brother rushed him a little, already holding his bag. 

“Yes…”

She turned and gave the men waiting a shy smile, ready to join them, but he walked in front of her, looked at her in the eyes and bent to hug her once more, not letting go so quickly this time. As she hugged back, she looked above his shoulder to Dean watching them.

“Y/n and I were not just engaged” he murmured in her ears, making her shiver. She kept her eyes on the man she loved, he was staring back with his hands in his pockets. “We were… are soulmates. It’s not a way of speaking, Fate told us, Cupid confirmed.” 

Her pupils dilated and Dean noticed it. 

The man holding her finally let go.

“Goodbye Y/n” he smiled and reached her face to wipe a tear she hadn’t even noticed.

“Goodbye Dean.”

           And he left, they left. Escorted by her Dean, they took the metal stairs as she stayed frozen playing his words again and again in her head.

Part 4 will be edited (tomorrow) in @roonyxx​‘s blog

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[johobi]

When You Least Expect It | 12

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader x Taehyung

Word count: 8.2k

Warnings: angst, angsty-angst, dramaTIC ANGST, anxiety, depression, fear of going mad. i swear it’s not all that bad though!!!!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732419/navigate

A/N: thanks, as ever, for all your encouragement, love and patience. i truly treasure you.

Next: 13 ASAP! || WYLEI Masterlist

You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last-ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation. 

"Need to get my⁠—mmm⁠—keys."

Taehyung's argument was solid, but your lip-lock took precedence. "Nuh-uh," you murmured to his saliva-slick lips, eager to taste from them again. "Do it blind."

Your lover fished futilely for his keys, eyes closed for kissing. His body angled away when you only wanted it flush. Selfishly you clung to him, arms fast around his neck, compelling him closer. Oh, but you needed more. Needed his touch. It was painfully absent. Taehyung’s long-fingered hands trawled the depths of his pockets when they should have been defiling you. 

He snorted through the meagre space between your faces. "I can't find⁠—mmgh⁠—find them."

"Here," you offered in devilish whisper, plunging a hand into the pocket of his jeans. Shamelessly grasping a little too close to his left-leaning dick.

"Ah⁠—"

Your fingertips grazed metal. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"It will be." 

It was your turn to scoff. Right into his hot, nasty mouth.

Despite Taehyung's ineptitude at locating his own keys, it was spellcraft how easily he unlocked the door, with his back to it and his tongue thrust far past your lips. As the lock gave way, you threw yourself into his freshly-freed arms, urging he embrace your touch-starved body. But Taehyung was already around you, on you, fondling the breadth of your thinly-clothed ass. He broke away to whine:  “God, you drive me crazy.”

“You love it.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

You stumbled into his apartment as a mass of roving hands. "You’re gonna get it again, noona," Taehyung hummed around your earlobe. Tugged it between his teeth. Whispered obscenities while his hard cock pressed close. “You feel that, babe? You want it?”

Breath tumbled out. “Y-Ye⁠s—”

"It certainly sounds like she does," a wicked voice sang. It was high-pitched and heavy on the dialect and its source unmistakeable. You wished you were mistaken. "Whatever it is. I'm gonna hazard a guess that it's⁠—"

The two of you repelled like magnets. 

"Oh, fuck. Jimin, why are you still here?" Taehyung made no attempt to smother his exasperation. His erection, on the other hand, he smothered actively, obscuring it with the hem of his shirt..

"Good night without me?" the redhead side-stepped. Consistent with his character, the conversation became depraved, and all about him. You found yourself on the receiving end of an unwelcome eyebrow waggle. "I was only one phone call away."

Taehyung's hand flew to his face. Dragged down his features. "I told you I didn't know when I'd be back. If at all. Couldn't you have gone home, dude? What did you even do all night?"

As Jimin dithered and whined, you surveyed the damage the bachelor had inflicted upon Taehyung's usually immaculate apartment. Takeout trays, beer bottles and indiscernible spills surrounded the little imp. Insult to injury was his occupation of your beloved red slanket. It coupled his hair so garishly he resembled something of an angry pimple. You glared at Jimin from behind his 5'11" handler.

"I thought you were coming back!" Jimin finally exasperated. His wrists emerged from the slanket-holes when he gestured to his nest of trash. "I had to eat twice the amount of food. And I got drunk alone. You know how sad that is?"

"Got a glimpse of your future, did you, Jimin?" The snicker that shot from you almost took the contents of your nostrils with it. To say you were a little sniffly this morning was to minimise it. It took all your nasal strength to prevent a flood. Probably all that rain yesterday. 

No, don't think about yesterday.

Luckily, your dignity remained intact for discard another day. Jimin's however, had long been abandoned. Tact, too. "So—" He watched, beady-eyed, as you busied yourself in the undoing of his mess. When you reached for a pizza box: "You guys having an affair? Or is this some kinda friends-with-benefits deal?" The slanket rode up his offensively nude thighs as he leaned toward your stooping form. "Any chance of making this a three-person thing? Or four, if that Jungkook guy is still in the picture."

  It was like an icicle through your poor, hollowed heart. You froze, bent at the hinges, pizza grease becoming palm sweat. "W-What?"

  “Actually, was he even real? I never saw him.”

  Was he even real?

  Taehyung was quick. Was there in a second, striding to your side, affixing a hand to your lower back. His fingertips, too, were quick. Quick to find that sliver of exposed skin where your jeans and shirt met. To give you the warmth of reassurance that came only with his touch. "Jesus, Jimin. I know this is your shtick, but no-one's in the mood for your bullshit today. Just go home dude, I'll text you later."

  An expression you'd never encountered warped Jimin's delicate features. Hurt. "What the fuck?" he grumbled, complying despite his injured feelings. Coming to a stand, he stuffed himself into his night-before skinny jeans, plump lips pursed. "What got into you? She peg you or something?" Jimin’s hmphs continued, punctuating his impromptu Get Ready With Me throughout. Without the care it warranted, he slung off the slanket and began turning out the couch.

  “Very funny. What are you looking for? I’ll help.” Taehyung offered, placidity masking his vexation incredibly well. Antagonising Jimin would only prolong his being there, after all, and the scenario was already unbearably awkward. Especially now, when he was flaunting a good inch of his ass-crack in the hunt for some misplaced possession. 

  "My wallet. Y’know, the pot leaf one. Where did I put the damn thing?"

  In that gaping crevice, maybe? It wasn’t aloud. 

  "Okay, look⁠—" Taehyung, too, looked to have had his fill of his friend's butt-cleft. "I'll bring your wallet 'round your place later. You got your phone and keys, yeah?" The outline in the redhead's jeans confirmed it. "Go home, sleep off the rest of the booze, we'll talk this evening."

  Despite his grievances, Jimin suddenly brightened. He never was one to hold a grudge. He was a Pisces, after all. "You're gonna come over? Cool! I'll get more beer in." The fact he'd consumed a dozen only two hours prior didn’t appear to deter him. "You coming, ____? We gonna have another game of Never Have I Ever?"

  The sincere sparkle of his eyes threw you a little. "Uh, I don't think so. Not today. Sorry, Jimin. Next time, okay? I've got some things to sort out later. Plus, I think I’m getting sick." A sniffle for illustration.

  "That's cool." He hummed, shrugged on his signature varsity jacket. The world would burn before he conceded college was over. "See you later, Tae. Happy smashing," was his parting comment as he sashayed out the door, mildly uncoordinated. Taehyung was charitable enough to relieve his friend of the quandry of closing it.

  And when it was closed, your lover turned back. Had a pensive purse to his lips. "Uh, sorry about that. You okay?"

  "Don’t apologise, I’m the one that disrupted your plans in the first place, Tae. But yeah, I’m good." 

  Taehyung couldn’t see the extent of that untruth. Not when you averted your eyes so swiftly. Pinned them to your busy hands as you continued to collect up Jimin's litter. Why had it been so easy for him to speak his name? Like it was nothing but breath? Just two syllables, plucked from an alphabet of indifference?

  When it was sand and salt on open sores?

  When it was woe so heavy it rasped the soul?

  "Alright." It wasn't, but what mattered was that Taehyung knew it. Knew it, and didn't pursue it. Instead, he fluffed a trashbag for you in which to deposit your greasy collection. "He's always like this. A mangy raccoon."  The comparison hit humorously enough to curtail your anguish. Momentarily, at least. A genuine laugh came from you. At that, Taehyung looked up. Caught your smile. "He's always like this. Always leaves me to clean up. His metaphorical and literal messes."

  Trash collected, you straightened. Inelegantly, and with a groan. You'd have to scrape together the pennies for some sweet chiropractic adjustment. "Yeah? That doesn't surprise me," you smirk, prodding at the knots in the small of your back. "All I know is he's a gross, unashamed pervert that could be a good guy if he grew up a little. You haven't really told me too much about him. I guess you'll—" the reality of your and Taehyung's changed relationship hit you, then. It had transfigured into something far more intense. Far more beautiful. Potentially volatile.  "—you'll have to tell me more. About him. Your other friends I don't see much. And about you, stuff I didn't get to know until we—well. You know."

  Taehyung's head came to a tilt. His downy locks strayed into his eyes, softening them into a squint. "It's weird, isn't it? Being like this. Good weird—" he added with haste. Had he been suddenly struck by the revelation, too? Your two combined brain cells continued to surf one wavelength. It was uncanny. "You're standing there, I'm standing here. We look the same. But it's all different. I look at you different." A contemplative pause. The trash-bag knocked noisily at his knees as he rocked. "And all I know is I want to learn about you. Again. Inside and out."

  "Yeah. I'd like that very much. I'm hardly a treasure trove of alluring secrets, but I'm sure I have a wild story or two from my college years. Ugh—" The ache that'd been no more than a dull tapping at your skull suddenly came to the fore. Your head throbbed like a blunt force concussion.

  "You okay?" The trashbag left Taehyung's hands and crumpled to the floor. You felt them on you shortly after, palpating your oddly sensitive forearms. "What's up?"

  "Headache. Think I was bent over for too long, or something." But then came a torrent of sneezing. And it was also then that Taehyung's proximity was suddenly, intolerably stifling. "Ugh. Maybe not. I’m definitely getting sick. Sick-sick."

  A satiny palm left your shoulder and found your forehead. Your vantage saw only Taehyung's mouth. It opened into an O. "Oh, shit. Yeah, you're burning up, noona. We should get you into bed."

  "No, no. That won't be necessary." You waved away his clammied hand and instead peeled off your - his - jacket. The last thing you wanted, on a day as emotionally strenuous as this one, was to find yourself physically compromised, too. "I'll be okay. I just need to cool down a bit. It's probably just a cold, and I can soldier through those. Uh—I'm a little hungry, though?"

  "Aha! Want some French toast or something?" Taehyung leapt at the opportunity to tend to you. Like Yoongi, you shied away from showing weakness and instead showed a reluctance to lean on others. It must’ve been frustrating for Taehyung, an unashamed empath who wanted nothing more than to accompany and comfort you during your times of adversity. But he understood that it could not be the case with you. That less was more. That the key to helping you was when you asked for it. Yes, even when it was something so small as the common cold.

  And when it wasn’t just the sniffles, but world-ending woe, Taehyung embraced your diversions from the difficult topics. Didn’t push it. Best friends never pushed. Yes, he was still your best friend. Something more, now, too, but forever your gentlest, most attuned of friends. "Don’t you like French toast? I could make something else?" He prompted, peering into your faraway face with those precious eyes of his.

  "You can make French toast?"

  "Of course I can. I can make you anything, within reason. I've been practicing. Takeout's giving me a belly." In illustration, Taehyung molded his hands to his mildly rounded flesh. Strained it out further, like an expecting mother.

  "I like your little belly." Your hands fell to his, pressing his stomach back to flat.

  "Yeah?" An errant quirk of his eyebrow. "It likes you, too."

  You smiled so, so wide. And then you became certain:

  Last night had been the right decision. One made in a swell of volatile emotion, yes. But this day - this moment - in which it was still possible to smile, proved that. Taehyung conjured it to your face with so little effort. It took so little effort to be with him. To just be. 

  And that was indeed a feat. 

  Because inside your mind, there was no reprieve. Barbed words and self-abuse clattered about your brain, painting you unworthy of Jungkook. Worse yet; deserving of his treatment. 

Every second since your waking hour you’d been assailed by volleys of it. But your self-loathing didn’t end its assault there. In your darkest seconds, it even dared to suggest that you proclaimed your love for Taehyung too hastily. 

  That you instead yearned for that other man.

  By some mercy, you were already adept in handling intrusive thoughts. Because that was all they were: Intrusive. Unwelcome and unwanted. There could be no truth to the doubt or longing. 

Not when your new horizon stood before you, a sunshine smile dawning across his cheeks. Taehyung. The once boy, now man, you'd forever coveted.

  He was yours. Your desperate words a night ago sealed it.

  Puzzlement mingled adorably with Taehyung's bright features. "Babe?"

  Yeah. It was the right choice.

  "Sorry, Tae." In spite of your climbing fever, you intertwined your idling fingers. Looked down at the union with a contented smile. "Thanks for letting me stay here for a bit. I didn't want to go back to my apartment yet." The reason why remained unspoken. "I know I can't avoid it forever, but for a little while at least, I just wanna not think."

  Soft, familiar lips were on your forehead. Spoke against the skin. "You stay here as long as you need. My apartment and I are at your disposal." It was Taehyung's turn to loose himself from your febrile embrace. Your perspiration lacquered his fingers. "We're getting you some painkillers for that fever, at the very least. You don't have to stay in bed, but I want you on the sofa so I can keep an eye on you while I do some marking."

  "Okay, dad."

  Taehyung’s tongue danced over the tips of his teeth. "That's daddy to you, noona. Get those damp clothes off and get some of my pyjamas on, there's a set on the bed."

  ----

  Your sentencing to the sofa had initially been met with resistance. Especially when Taehyung hovered, ever-watching, an eye on his papers and the other on your recalcitrant form. Your every attempt at productivity - even a surreptitious attempt to fold his laundry - had been met with soft but stern eyes and an escort back to your cologne-saturated prison. Jimin's stank had ingratiated itself with the fibres of Taehyung's cushions. No amount of deodorizer could reduce its cling. It did nothing but intensify the thudding behind your eyes.

  And at first, you attributed your worsening nausea to that silly little redhead. But the lightheadedness followed swiftly after, and then the chills, and then that horrid, off feeling encroached, like your soul lagged behind every of your body's movements.

  In the end, you begged for the bed. Taehyung's memory foam mattress and sweet-smelling pillows. Only, the sweet made you sick, and the memory foam only exacerbated all your indistinct aches. By early afternoon, despite his dutiful nursing of you, you tapped out of your brave-facing. Practically begged him to return you to your apartment, where all your remedies resided. 

  If there was something that united the men of your world, it was their haphazard approach to health crises. Taehyung possessed a pitiful two (2) painkillers. The nasty, round, chalky type that got you gagging. Expiry date: Last year. No hot water bottle, no frozen goods to improvise a cold compress. When questioned about his unreadiness in the face of illness, his reasoning was ridiculous. Sound, but ridiculous. 'I never get sick, so I don't need it.’ The painkillers were Jimin’s.

  Hoseok and Yoongi were much the same. The former would simply turn up on your doorstep and check-in to your veritable inpatient clinic and expect private-tier care. For the latter, you'd have to make a house visit, because he never got sick, and he didn't need you fussing over him so. And yet he was the one that fell ill the most. The one that needed the most tender of care.

  Sigh.

  Today, you required it. And that was how you now found yourself back home, a day earlier than you would have preferred. You tottered out of Taehyung's car in your royal red slanket, pyjama pants dragging on wet asphalt. It took what waning stamina you possessed to gaze upward at the same balconies Jungkook strode yesterday. It was like looking on an untouched crime scene; as gloomily lit and ominous as it had been then.

  Taehyung came to your side, and then a little in front, surveying that same sight. "Looks like he's gone, noona."

  The relief that surged was medicine in itself. "Thank God. Let's go in, quickly." Your teeth chattered animatedly during the climb, even though you burned like the sun incarnate. Taehyung's arm was fast about your waist, steadying you on each of your Everestian steps. Collapse felt close at times, but when your vision began to fail it was the image of Jungkook's guilt-ridden face that rallied you onward. To fall, here, was to expose yourself to the risk of seeing it again.

  And that could not happen.

  "Do you have the keys—"

  "Got 'em." Taehyung was ahead of you in every sense. With the dexterity he was inhibited from displaying earlier, he had your door open before you could reach him. "In you go, babe."

  "Thanks." You loped past, unsteady. Unready to climb the flight of stairs immediately within. "Why do I have a maisonette?" The question was to no-one, or God. 

  Taehyung answered anyway. “Because you’re a woman of discerning taste.” Large hands found your blanketed backside, lending you their support. “Plus, when the bedroom’s upstairs, the neighbours can’t hear.” 

  “A valid point,” you ceded, beginning your ascent. Even with Taehyung - quite literally - bringing up the rear, your legs felt like those of an unpractised infant. It was astonishing just how quickly the virus had incapacitated you.

  Still. The higher you climbed, the handsier Taehyung became. He stole squeezes of your rump with every step. Said it was incentive to keep going.

  Well, he wasn’t wrong. 

  After much of his unscrupulous groping, the laughter finally broke free. "Oh my God, you're being so shameless right now." Another shaky step. "I wish I had a stairmaster."

  He wasn't done being outrageous. "Sit back and I'll stairmaster you all the way up, babe."

  The giggling became painful. Welcome, but painful. "Stop."

  At the top of the staircase, you stopped to compose your failing limbs. It was alarming just how vital you'd been this morning. This afternoon, you felt one laboured breath from death. "One sec."

  "I knew this was a bad idea. You shouldn't be going anywhere in your condition." His two, warm hands stabilised you from the back, preventing an inevitable tumble. "I coulda just bought more painkillers and whatever else you needed."

  "It's alright, Tae. I had to come back at some point soon, anyway. My keys for the cafe are here and I'm opening tomorrow." Blotting the sweat from your brow, you advanced on unstable legs to the sofa and immediately crumpled onto its familiar comfort. "Plus, when I'm sick, I like to be sick at home."

  "I don't think you'll be going into work tomorrow." By the time it took you to maneuver yourself onto your stomach, Taehyung was stood over you, hands emphatically on hips. "Look at you. Can't even get comfortable without exhausting yourself."

  "I don't wanna let Hoseok down." Nor did you want to enlighten him to your current romantic quandry, though. Ugh. "But I do feel terrible. If I’m no better later, I might text him."

  "Wow, I thought for sure it would take far more convincing than that," Taehyung snickered, eyes round with mock shock. He'd accumulated a number of dirty dishes from your coffee table in his hands. "Glad you're prepared to rest. Stay there and let me get whatever it is you need. I'll clean your place up a little as well, so don't stress about it."

  "No—Tae—"

  "Hush. Get the pyjama bottoms off, too, they're wet on the bottom."

  You'd been shouldering so much discomfort that your freezing wet ankles had eluded you. A glance down. "Oh. Yeah. I don't know if I can, though." You flopped your feeble arms. "Too far to reach." Plus, Taehyung could undress you now. To disrobe in any other way was to squander the opportunity.

  His mouth curved villainously. "Okay." Clap. "Let's see if I can do this in one swift move. Like a magician pulling a table cloth."

  Before his proposition had entirely processed, he pinched the hems of your sodden pyjama bottoms and snatched them from your legs. "Wh—"

  "Open sesame!"

  Wheezy giggling filled the air. "Oh, it hurts to laugh. Fuck." Being semi-naked and comically incapacitated only heightened the hilarity. Taehyung straddled your legs, twirling the wet pants in triumph— "Oww. Oh my God, stop, I can’t—” More rasping laughter. “What even goes on in your head? Also, magicians don't shout open sesame when they do that shit."

  "I do. That's why other magicians suck. They say the wrong words." He spoke it like he believed it, and for a moment he was again the boy from childhood, proclaiming the weirdest - but sincerest - of things. And now he was your loveable oddball. "Daddy's gonna get you some dry ones."

  And there was the gross-ass man he'd grown into.

  Nevermind.

  "Okay, you're taking that in a direction I don't want to go in, Tae," you protested, flimsily, through persistent laughs. With a half-hearted kick, you nudged him toward your bedroom. "Hurry up, my ass is getting cold."

  “A cold ass will do you good,” was his nonsensical retort. He wriggled out of his own, damp jeans as he went, gifting you the sight of his luscious ass in curve-hugging cotton. 

  You were appallingly close to catcalling take the boxers off too!, but in your current state you could barely lift a pinky, let alone give him the vigorous fucking he deserved.

  ---

  A little channel-hopping later, Taehyung returned. Armed, coincidentally, with your favourite flannel bottoms. Yes, it was likely just coincidence, but the romantic in you posited destiny. "Legs up," he commanded. You did try, but the attempt was laughable. Taehyung's sigh hit the back of your thighs. "Listen here, lazy," he crooned, turning your body with the care one would an undercooked omelette. Pyjama pants in hand, he glowered down at your defiant face, brandishing them like a threat. "You gonna co-operate?"

  "Nope." You turned your attention to the TV to stifle further laughter. Why you were hindering his attempts to help with your misbehaviour was anyone's guess. There was something irresistible about making trouble for him, though. Probably because Taehyung, too, was an unrepenting rascal.

  "Okay then," was his equivocal response. You scrutinised him through narrowed eyes, waiting on his next, underhanded move.

  Which was to tickle your feet. Underhanded indeed.

  "Oh, God, no!" you yelped, cried, rasped for breath. Flailed your legs like a fawn on skates.

  "Thought you couldn't move, huh? Huh?" Taehyung caught your ankles amidst their thrashing and pulled them through freshly-laundered flannel.

  Once the pyjamas reached your knees, you relented in your nonsense and shot him a buoyant smile. "Thanks."

  "Hips up."

  This time, you were obedient.

  And Taehyung was thankful. A fine smile shone back at you as he settled the waistband around your hips. Your smile, however, drifted. Awe replaced it as you stole glances at his beautifully-hewn features. He truly was sublime. The bridge of his nose was high and strong, its tip hosting the most precious of moles. Beneath his bottom lip there was another. These little details, of course, hadn’t escaped you before, but it was something to see them so close now. With time, you would kiss each and every of his chaotically placed moles. 

  When you recalled your gaze upward, Taehyung was watching you. The chocolate of his eyes was molten with feeling. Love and warmth irradiated him. "Can't believe you're mine now."

  It was crucial that you kiss him.

  You moved to do so. His lips were only a breath away. But then—

  Three, distinct knocks.

  You traded looks. Yours, petrified. His, outraged.

  "Wait—"

  But Taehyung's weight had already left you. An intimidating energy lingered in his wake as he strode toward the staircase, fists clenched. "I'll get that."

  "Tae, no—"

  The difficulty with which it took you to extricate yourself from your slanket was all the more frustrating for the urgency of the situation. You staggered, almost toppled, to catch him, but he'd already descended the steps by the time you reached the top. Damn those lovely, long legs of his. All you could do now was brace yourself on either bannister to prevent a gruesome fall. Because no amount of honeyed pleading was going to stop him. You peered, lightly nauseous, down the expanse of stair as Taehyung slung open the door.

  It came as no surprise that it was Jungkook stood there, his doe-eyes wide.

  It eviscerated your guts, nonetheless, to see him.

  “Noona!”

  At first, he lit up in elation. Perhaps he thought the door-answerer to be you. When Taehyung’s identity became clear, however, that elation morphed. First, to shock. Your long-legged lover wasn’t wearing pants, after all. But when Jungkook spied you at the back all shy, sadness again descended upon him. It was a sadistic hope that your sickly appearance intensified that upset. That it fueled his guilt for having decimated you. With every, shredded fibre of your being, you wished Jungkook hurt.

  “Thank you for answering the door,” he began with an earnest bow, as though he didn’t know just how much you abhorred him. “H—”

  "I answered the door. What do you want?" Taehyung straddled the doorframe, asserting his dominance over the territory. Jungkook's every attempt to look past him was foiled. The lissom man angled himself obstructively, and yet you sought Jungkook's face, too. Wanted to glimpse the heartbreaker for yourself, like he was some loathsome thing of legend. Like it was hard to believe you'd looked into that face just yesterday and seen the world. "Don't you ever give up?" he added, his patience sounding pencil-thin.

  After several, weighty seconds of silence, Jungkook eventually acknowledged Taehyung's existence. Addressed him earnestly. "I know I'm not welcome here. I just want a couple of minutes with ____ to explain what she saw—" A derisive snort threatened to cut him off, so he continued hastily, and louder— "—Not for my benefit. For hers. I don't want her to—to—" Choked with frustration, Jungkook thrust himself into your sightline. Implored you with large, gleaming eyes. "I don't want you to blame yourself in any way."

  You despised how pregnable you were under his gaze. Like imminent, avoidable death, it became impossible to look away. The void called. There, in his desolate eyes. He wanted you to join him. 

  No, Jungkook didn’t need you anymore. What he wanted was absolution. At great personal cost to you. But whatever he wished, no matter how detrimental, you would likely grant. 

  Because as much as you hated him, you loved him.

  “I—”

  But you loved Taehyung, too.

  “____?” And he was there, soft voice enticing you back toward the light. Back toward his pretty face and tender-hearted intentions. There was no hurt to be had with Taehyung.

  "I don't,” you spat, clear-minded once more. “I don’t blame myself, Jungkook. Only you.” 

  But you did blame yourself. Every second since, in fact. 

  Too fat, too boring, too ugly, too old, too much baggage—

  It mustn't have been too convincing an outburst. Jungkook's mouth remained a thin, grim line. And those fucking eyes of his were so fucking ridiculously big and sad and—fuck!

  It was all too much.

  Mercifully, Taehyung was composed enough to mediate. You, however, were on the brink of emotional - and physical - collapse. "You heard her." Again, he filled out the doorframe. Stood provocatively close to the man in front. "You fucked up majorly. Actually—" Taehyung leaned in. His baritone dived lower. "You're lucky we're not alone right now."

  Jungkook did not recoil an inch. Neither did he square up, though. He just stood, toe-to-toe with Taehyung, receiving the vitriol.

  "You've imparted your message. You’re too late. You shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Are you finally going to go?"

  At that, something bubbled within Jungkook. It shook his frame, balled his fists. Blinking came more rapidly. And then— "I know all that, dude. Look, I’m not here to fight with you. I appreciate what you’re doing, and that you’re protecting her, but I just—I need to talk to noona—to ___ a little longer. Privately. I just need a little more time. Please. Let me get the words out."

  Taehyung bore impossibly close. "You don't need more time."

  Jungkook’s mouth opened, combatively downturned. But whatever he meant to launch next was stymied when you took one, noodly step down the stairs. Taehyung turned toward the movement, and Jungkook peered past. It was then that he clocked just how arduous it was for you to move. “Noona? Are you okay?”

  Dizzyness crowded your peripheral vision. But Jungkook was front and centre, and so painfully clear, that the influenza quietened. "I don't want to see you, Jungkook. I’m pretty sure I got that across yesterday. How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone? What if I don’t even want to hear your damn sob story?"

  He fell mute when your words reached him. Like he could scarcely believe you'd deigned him worthy of directly addressing. Palms pressed together and with his mouth agape, he looked the picture of a supplicant.

  But he was unworthy.

  No, I am.

  You hung your head again. It was strenuous on your neck; weighing like a cannonball. "I don't want to stand here all day, Jungkook. Fucking say something. Why did you come here if—"

  "Because I love you!” he gasped. “I love you, and—"

  "Bullshit you do!"

  It came from Taehyung, not you. He'd turned back, teeth bared, no longer saying but growling. There he was. Your guard dog. The leash was straining. "You don't love someone and hide a fucking fiancee, you piece of shit." Jungkook flinched at Taehyung's ferocity, but remained stalwart on his spot. Curled his lip instead. "You blew it. Now go."

  Jungkook shook his head suddenly, violently. Flung rain from his hair and onto the walls. "This has nothing to do with you!" The bridge of his nose scrunched tight and bared not bunny teeth, but fangs.

  Taehyung swatted away the finger poised aggressively at his chest. Stepped closer, but didn't stop. No, he bumped him back toward the threshold with his chest. "It does now. Read between the lines, dumbass."

  Jungkook was ineffably innocent. “What do you mean?” He stared into Taehyung’s narrowed eyes to glean more meaning. 

  And then he gulped.

  Jungkook’s gaze flickered to Taehyung’s immodestly nude legs, and clarity began to dawn. It astounded you how little reaction Taehyung’s state of undress had initially garnered from Jungkook. But now he was giving the situation its due attention.

  A few, unmoving moments later, he gulped again. Harder this time, like something tangibly obstructed his speech. “N-Noona?” It was a mere rasp.

  When Jungkook looked back, eyes glossy with devastation, your heart tore again. Right along its freshly-stitched seams. You tried desperately to avert your gaze, but the void shimmering back at you was dense. His voice reached for you again. "____?" 

  Your name, alien in tone, was what finally closed your eyes. Fresh tears ran down established tracks. You turned away, grip on the bannisters dubious.

  "You and—him?" Jungkook gasped, so quietly, so pained, it was like agonal breath.

  You crumpled as if stomped on. Your chest was ablaze, and you wanted so desperately to clutch at it. To smother it. To cradle your torso as it caved once more. But you were too impaired to move. Instead, you stood there, frozen and hunched, crying uglier than you could remember ever letting anyone see. Staring at your toes as the carpet caught your tears. 

  But why? You should be overjoyed to shatter him as he had you.

  "Get it? Now go." Taehyung sighed, all the fight siphoning from him. He backed up from Jungkook and went monotone. "You've upset ___. Again. This is your last warning. Get going."

  Predictably, Jungkook didn't budge. In the ensuing silence, however, he didn't plead his case as he once would have done. No, something about him was changed. An aggrieved aura hugged him, expanded, until— "Last warning? Fuck you, Kim Taehyung." His eyes, once brimming with tears, now seared with a fury. Even Taehyung looked taken aback. The outburst came sharp despite its gentle source. Again, Jungkook thrust forward an accusing finger. "Don't pretend you're better than me. You're selfish. I knew you couldn't wait to get your dick in her. I knew it ever since we saw you at the movies and you looked so fucking jealous—"

  The gasp that exited you was so heavy with outrage it almost took you with it. You gripped the bannisters tighter, wobbled down two further steps. You had to de-escalate this. Somehow. "Jungkook!"

  He granted you a brief, guilt-ridden side-glance before once again affixing his target with a glare. "You were just waiting for your moment, weren't you? Didn't want her 'til I had her. Couldn't bear the thought of your closest friend not being one of your conquests."

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  You didn't make it in time. Not before Taehyung wound back his elbow and snapped it forward, a hard, coiled fist on its end. It landed, brutal and blunt, on Jungkook's jaw. A dull, fleshy thud resounded, but to you it was like a gunshot. And so was the way his head and body whipped away, spiralling until his knees buffered his fall.

  "Oh my G—Jungkook!"

  The younger man, crouched away as he was, breathed deep, coppery air. Smeared his mouth along his sleeve, leaving red where it touched. And then, standing, he glared hatred at Taehyung. His shoulders shuddered with untethered anger. "You—"

  "It's more than that for me. I can't say the same for you," Taehyung cut in, surveying his reddened knuckles. He flexed his fingers for feeling. "Fucking cheater."

  Distracted, Taehyung was unprepared for the solid hunk of human that caught him around his midsection. Jungkook tackled him without caution, throwing his entire, intimidating mass into Taehyung's lankier frame. The two surged into the ground, clawing and grappling at the other's limbs, eyes wild, lips stretched back from teeth.

  "Stop!"

  "Oh my God, stop it!"

  Neither listened. They were feral. Both heard only the rush of blood.

  Knowing you must intervene, you manipulated your ragdollish limbs into descending the last half dozen steps. It was then, after an elongated struggle, Jungkook clambered atop Taehyung and fisted the collar of his shirt, glaring daggers enough to maim him.

  “You’re so fucking smug—”

  “Why shouldn’t I be? I’m not the one who fucked up!” Taehyung crowed from beneath, maniacal. He taunted Jungkook with an angular grin, like he wasn’t the one at disadvantage. 

  “Shut up!”

  Once your feet met ground, you crumbled to your knees, Taehyung's head of hair between them. The sneer he brandished fell when he caught sight of your sweat-soaked face. Pitifully you pressed against Jungkook's shoulders, dissuading him from further violence. You felt like a toreador pushing on 1800lbs of charging bull. Jungkook didn't even so much as register your attempts until you wheezed out, "P-Please stop."

  He did. He went rigid, in fact. Trembled, when he became aware of your touch. His rage evaporated and the boy that sat there was no longer a bull but a meek little kit. Trepidation rolled from Jungkook in waves, and he would not meet your eyes.  

  Why? 

  Was he now repulsed by you? 

  How could he judge you for your indiscretion when he—he—! 

  No. It wasn't an indiscretion. What you did with Taehyung held no moral ambiguity. 

  It occurred to you, then, that the pair of you hadn't been so close since the last time you were intimate. And happy. Though damp, Jungkook's familiar, and once comforting scent, brushed your nostrils. Perhaps your proximity was what flustered him.

  When he finally met your gaze, you knew it to be true. He didn't look upon you with the anger nor revulsion you expected. Not anything obvious, anyway. Instead it was the wide-eyed wonder from your first date. The shyness. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to revisit it. 

But then his brows drooped low in remorse. "Noona," he called to you like you were far away. Pined for you. Taehyung's shirt fell from his clutches, and you found his hands on your elbows instead, propping up your drooping form.

  Feverish before, you were positively boiling now. To have his gentle palms on you again, no matter the circumstance, was a threat to your hastily-cobbled retreat. His fingertips told you, as they caressed your inner elbow, that any other man's hands would never do. And yet - you squirmed feebly, recalling it - those hands had been on, been in some other woman's body. And that would never do. "Don't touch me, J-Jungkook. Not with those hands."

  But it was his hands that stirred your heart into uproar. 

  No. It was simply the flu. Nothing more. It influenced your body in the oddest ways. 

  And there was someone that had pumped your blood for far longer.

  You cast your eyes to where Taehyung lay, honey hair a halo about his head and eyes only for you. Love bloomed fiercely in the bowels of your heart. “You really don’t look very good.” He made to push Jungkook off, but the younger man was already up on his knees, scanning your wan complexion. 

  "Are you burning up?" Jungkook murmured, his lips a line of concern. "You feel hot." Again he clasped your elbows, testing along their length for temperature. When he reached your upper arms, he was bold enough to advance on your neck, thumbs either side the line of your jaw. To your great shame, though you attributed it in most part to the fever, you enjoyed Jungkook's handling. "Your glands are out. And—" he pressed a cool, clammy palm to your clammier forehead. Spellbound, your eyes closed. "Yeah, you're even hotter up here, noona."

  "No shit, dumbass," Taehyung growled from above. When you opened your eyes, he was no longer supine but towering over the two of you, fingers twitching by his sides. You foresaw Jungkook's imminent scalping if you weren't quick to intervene. "You chased her into torrential rain. She's sick, asshole, and it's your fault."

  But there was no need to intervene. Jungkook didn't anger again. Nor did he stare down the man spitting insults. His focus remained fixed on you. On the damage he'd done. The deadened, bloodshot eyes, the pallid skin, the absence of joy. Of understanding. "I-I'm sorry," was all he could think to say? Again?

  Desperate, you implored him for more with forlorn eyes. Begged him for sense. Practically mouthed the word please. It would be nothing you wanted to hear, but perhaps hearing it could bring closure. Some semblance of peace, eventually, in some far-off year. 

  Jungkook stared back, ruminating, and you knew there was no sense to be found. None that you wanted, anyway. Jungkook was a liar, an adulterer, a manipulator—

  "Alright, you said sorry again. Time to go." Taehyung hauled him up by his underarms and, hopefully, away from you forever. It was a credit to him for tolerating Jungkook’s presence for so long. Especially when all he did was regurgitate the same, tired shit. "Don't come here again, or I'll call the cops," he snarled to Jungkook's ear, spittle flying. With a grip on the scruff of Jungkook's jacket, he whirled him toward the door.

  "She's not my fiancee!"

  Taehyung paused. As did you, in your agonised ascent into standing.

  "She's not my fiancee," Jungkook repeated over his shoulder, looking for you over his gathering jacket. "I wanted to talk to you about it calmly, and in private. It's not simple, and it’s hard to believe."

  "Don't lie to me n-now, Jungkook." The finger with which you jabbed at him, trembled. "I asked you that. You said she was."

  Taehyung's expression darkened by the second. It would devolve into another brawl at this rate, and you didn't want that. Not because you didn't want to see Jungkook get served, but because you didn't want him in your presence another gut-wrenching moment.

  Brazenly, Jungkook yanked himself from Taehyung's grip and turned, palms up and pacifying. He inched back toward the door; a gesture of his intent to finally leave. "Look. It's because technically she is, but it's not real—I'm going, asshole!—" Jungkook waved his arms demonstratively at the nearing door. Having appeased Taehyung, he pinned you again with fervent eyes. "What you saw wasn't the truth. If you won't hear me out entirely, at least hear that.”

  “No-one believes you. Everything you say is a fucking contradiction.” Taehyung was red and riled again. 

  Jungkook ignored him, his time short. “I won't text you anymore, I won't come here anymore. What I’ve done to you is unforgivable. I know that. I should never have lied. But—" The lamp outside illuminated his bedraggled hair. The tip of his nose when he turned. "You know my number if you do want to hear me out. I'll be around for a bit longer.”

  A bit longer?

  You granted him the minutest of nods.

  It was enough. Nodding back, Jungkook turned on his heel and flew around the corner. And though he was gone, his silhouette stayed seared into your retinas, haunting your every blink. It was only when Taehyung replaced him in the doorway that Jungkook faded. “Come on, babe. Let’s get you back on the sofa.” 

  Wow, he was tall.

Oh.

  Somehow, you were on the floor again. You squinted up at him with sore, watering eyes, overwhelmed by it all. You reached for him like an infant would its parent, too vulnerable to move, and too stupid to know better. “Okay.”

  "It’s been a shitty day, but I’m gonna try and make it better. Why don’t we have a Netflix nostalgiafest?" Taehyung cooed into your sodden hair, no minding the sweat. He wound your arms around his neck, legs about his waist and chauffered you up the stairs, grunting by the step. Exaggerating the effort by comedic amounts in order to provoke you.

  “Sure.”

  But you were far, far away. Hidden behind your glazed eyes, the encounter replayed on loop. Lingered on Jungkook's Disney eyes and big buck teeth. The ones you loved back when he deserved to be loved. The nonsense he spouted toward the end was of particular interest in your mental re-runs, even though it should have immediately been dismissed.

  'What you saw wasn't the truth.'

  But neither was his relationship with you. Not when he kept such weighty secrets as sport.

  'I'll be around for a bit longer.'

  And that? Another of his manipulative tactics? Was he really leaving, or merely dangling the threat of it?

  But why would it be a threat? You wanted nothing more than him to be gone.

  Oh, it was all so bad. Everything was bad. Everything was too much, and, oh, even being in your body was too much, let alone your mind. You were drowning in affliction. Assailed from all sides with nothing for defense.

  "Babe."

  All went black, and then you opened your eyes. Taehyung stood over you, mouth downturned. Cotton caressed your naked skin, and you knew these were your sheets. This was your bed. Your lover had stripped you of your oppressive pyjamas. You stared at the mole on his nose, the one under his bottom lip. One, two. You could count to two.

  "Are you doing okay? Your fever really spiked there. Should I call a doctor?"

  “No, no.”

  Perhaps you'd simply hallucinated the entire encounter. Perhaps it was your mind's exercise in catharsis. Or perhaps Jungkook had never existed to begin with, and his betrayal was the product of a detailed fever dream. Taehyung was real, though, and here he was still. Your forever best friend. Your secret love. You had not yet confessed your love to this real Taehyung. But now you were awake, you would seize the chance. Because if there was one thing your prolonged nightmare had taught you, it was that you should have just done it to begin with. On the porch those years ago, when the stars weighed heavy over his head and dared you to kiss him.

  "I love you," you rasped, sounding like Death's next call.

  And just like it should have happened then, Taehyung lowered his face to yours. "I love you too, noona," he murmured through a joyous smile, brushing together your noses first, lips second. "But it's time for your next dose of painkillers. We gotta get this in you ‘cause your fever’s really mounting. Pretty sure you’ve been hallucinating. It’s worrying me. I’m this close—” he pinched together his fingers— “to calling a doctor. I don't think that asshole turning up did you much good."

  Brainless, you repeated. "No doctor. Asshole?"

  "Yeah, Jungkook." A tray of painkillers dangled from the corner of Taehyung’s mouth while he poured water. "Lying douchebag. Who, by the way, will not be working at the school anymore. Not if I have something to say about it."

  The words went in, but floated right back out. The ceiling swirled.

  "Oh." He was real. 

  Of course, you knew that. Even in the murk of fever it was apparent. Still, it’d been nice to pretend for a while.

  The sound of preparation ceased and the mattress dipped. Taehyung extended your next dose and a glass of water to you. His expression was no longer so sunny, but clouded with disquiet. "Talk to me, ____. I know you're sick, but that's not all that's going on in that muddled head of yours. It might help to talk. I know you don’t like it, but you don’t have to be afraid. Just try it."

  It was a credit to your weakened state that you were so loose-lipped. You downed the pills and curled around Taehyung's seated position, molding to his lap. "I'm just—I don't know." Your cheek was hot against his thigh. His Calvin Klein waistband stared back at you. "I don't want to be sad anymore. I'm so, so sad. It's unbearable. I can't handle much as it is. It doesn't take a lot to drag me down, but this, this—" Tears welled. Taehyung's slender fingers were there to catch them. "This feels almost too much. Even with you here. It's like I'm locked in a mental prison."

  "I know, babe," he whispered, stroking your face free of limpid hair. "It's gonna take a while to feel better, like it does with any big change. What he did to you was villain material. Of course you're going to be devastated." For once, you listened. "You don't owe him forgiveness, though he tried his damned best to get it. For his own selfish satisfaction, I'm sure. And you don't owe him anything else, either, not even the thoughts in your brain. Though I know that's gonna take a while, too. I'm sure it's all you can think about." You nodded, snuffled into your blanket until it was wet. A sob felt ripe for eruption. "The flu won't make things easier, either. You're not losing your mind. You just need rest. And when you're not resting, distraction. I'm on hand for the latter." All that he said was all that you craved to hear. A tremulous smile - of relief, of gratitude - wobbled into place. Taehyung must have seen. "That's it, babe. It won't always be this bad, okay?"

  You nodded, marring his exemplary thighs with a variety of unpleasant excretions. "Ugh. Sorry." You’d been intimate just one day with Taehyung and you were already establishing yourself as a repellent bog monster. Usually that happens at least 3 years in.

  Taehyung merely chuckled. Kept the tissue box out of reach when you moved for it, thinking himself funny. It was only upon your panicked pleas of oh my god, snot’s gonna go in my mouth, that he finally indulged you. By wiping your nose for you, cooing all the while. "That better, little baby?"

  Your face spelt vexation. But inwardly, yes, yes, it was better.

  Taehyung made you so.

-

Next: 13 ASAP! || WYLEI Masterlist

[pop-culturereference]

Up High

Characters: Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson

Relationship: Damian Wayne and Tim Drake

Summary: After KGBeast shoots Dick, Damian is angry. He even contemplates killing KGBeast. Good thing Tim is there to talk him down. (Even if Damian was tempted to kill the KGBeast, he would not actually do it. idk what DC was thinking with this arc in Teen Titans.)

From the tallest building in Blüdhaven, the city was completely different. Damian sat, dangling and swinging his legs, as the sun rose and shone off of the water in the bay. Up close, Damian knew, the water was murky and clogged with bobbing debris, but the glint of the sun hid that from him when he saw it from all the way up here. It was quiet; the noise of the streets didn’t reach up here—the workers cleaning the streets, the screeching of the metro, the shouting. 

Grayson had taught him to love places like this. Up high, everything was different. Grayson had called it  “a clearer perspective.” He’d told Damian, “I come up here to re-orient myself. You know, Robin, when you’re down there, everything is so up-close and you’re right in the thick of it. The buildings are taller than you, you get shoved and pushed in the crowd, and the streetlamps are just bright enough to show you all the rats crawling out of the sewers.” He’d taken off Batman’s cowl then, and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s the same thing with being Robin. You have to look at it like this. That way, instead of showing you the rats, the streetlights are like stars.”

Damian had scoffed. At the time, he didn’t believe anything Grayson told him: he wasn’t Damian’s father; his father was dead, and Grayson thought he could replace him. Now, though, he felt like Grayson’s words had seeped down into his bones.

That was good, because Grayson probably wouldn’t be saying any more of that; it was Damian’s duty now to hold onto as much of him as he could. Just after Damian thought he had his brother back, KGBeast had shot him in the head, and he was gone again. That was what brought him up here: he needed a clearer perspective. He itched to kill KGBeast. It scraped at his every thought. He couldn’t go a day without rage crawling in him.

How was any of this fair? First, Damian had died. Then, he came back to life, but Grayson was dead. They’d been reunited and things had miraculously worked out, and Damian had been almost ready to believe that the world was a genuinely good place. But after all that, after things aligning so well, finding hope, KGBeast had ruined it. Grayson deserved better, and KGBeast deserved worse.

Damian kicked his legs harder against the concrete of the building. Above the city like this was the perfect place to make his choice.

Grayson was the one who’d taught him the value of life. He would be disappointed in Damian if he killed the KGBeast. Damian could already picture the look: Grayson standing sternly with his hands on his hips, but sadness and pity in his eyes. Grayson would never make that look again. Grayson was no longer Grayson. 

Something had to be done. The world was unfair, and Damian wasn’t going to wait for it to take away the only good things he had left. Grayson was gone and Ric wouldn’t care; Ric didn’t even like Damian. 

Earlier that day, when they were finally allowed into the hospital after the surgery, Damian planned to tell Grayson about the animals. He always liked hearing about them; he would smile, ask questions, and try to ruffle Damian’s hair, so Damian hoped that it would distract him from the possibility of forced retirement from Nightwing.

“I am teaching Ace how to open doors, he is progressing very quickly. He now fetches my blades for me, even when my door is closed. It was a brilliant-”

“Look. Kid. I’m sorry, I don’t know you, I don’t know your dog, and I don’t care. I’m not Dick. I need you to leave me alone.”

“Do you remember Pennyworth? Last week, he caught Alfred, the cat, in the-”

“What part of leave me alone don’t you understand? I. Don’t. Know. You. I can’t babysit, God,  I’m strapped to a hospital bed! Get! Out!”

Damian had stormed out and come directly to Blüdhaven to get above and away from everything. The tear tracks on his face had long since dried, but he didn’t think he could face everything yet, so even as the sun rose, he stayed. The sunrise was beautiful but cruel. He couldn’t start another day with his family, he could never adjust himself to Ric in Grayson’s stead. 

The world was horrible, and killing KGBeast wouldn’t fix the damage he had done, but the world would be slightly better with him gone. Damian was already a killer; he’d killed more people than he could count, not that he’d ever bothered to keep track. One more wouldn’t make a difference.

When the sun rises above the waterline completely, he thought, I’ll leave, and I’ll track him down and kill him.

Until then, he looked out over the city and tried to find what Grayson saw. 

Damian could almost hear him saying, Don’t worry so much about it, Little D. The point is to not worry.

“Tt. Nonsensical as always,” he replied to the voice in his head. Then, “I,” he started. He quickly looked around, just to double check that he really was alone up here. “I miss you already,” he whispered. He felt the beginning of tears and snot, so he sniffed and blinked until they left.

When the sun left the water, he stood up and turned around to leave, only to see someone else on the other end of the roof.

“Damian,” Drake called. 

“Turn around and jump off, Drake,” Damian called back. He stood with his arms crossed. Had Drake followed him there? Was he going to lecture him? Did his father send him?

“I just talked to Dick,” Drake said, walking closer. That gave Damian pause—did Grayson send Drake? “He told me to leave him alone.” With every word, he stepped forward and he didn’t have to yell so loud to be heard. “And, he told me that he sent you away and that he wasn’t a damn babysitter.”

Drake sounded bitter, so for once they had something in common.

“Tt,” is all Damian could say, unable to even come up with an insult for Drake.

Drake sat down where Damian had been sitting just barely watching the sunrise and patted the concrete next him, motioning for Damian to sit. Damian did not.

“Dick loved to climb up high,” Drake said. “I think it made him feel at home, plus, he always said something about perspective.” He heaved a sigh and craned his head back to look at Damian. The sun glistened off tears in his eyes. “You and I both know that the Dick we saw today was not Dick. One day, he may make it back to himself, but for now… I think it’ll be a bit.” He pulled one leg to his chest and let the other dangle off the edge as he continued, “I know he loved you a lot. I can’t figure out why- I’m sorry, forget I said that last bit. What I’m saying is, even though we haven’t ever gotten along, I want to try. For Dick.”

“Tt.” Damian took a hesitating step toward Drake, then lowered himself down to sit next to him. He refused to look at him, though, eyes on the horizon. Drake moved to pat his shoulder, but Damian grabbed his hand and twisted. “If you try to touch me again, I throw you off.”

“Ha! So endearing. I see now why Dick likes you so much.”

After that comment, they sat in silence for a while. Drake swung his legs like Damian was doing earlier, so Damian very pointedly did not kick or swing his own.

“You know,” Drake said, glancing at Damian from the side of his eye, “I don’t think I ever quite understood Jason until today. Dick was shot, and Bruce does nothing? Weak. Doesn’t Dick deserve more than that, after everything?”

“My father-” Damian starts, defensively, but Drake doesn’t stop at the interruption.

“Then, I realized, I get it. Bruce is right. If we went and killed the KGBeast, that would just continue a cycle of violence. It would just go from generation to generation. Bruce passes it to us, just like Talia passed it to you.”

“My mother-”

“Changing the world isn’t easy, Damian. Especially for us. It always starts with little things like this. If we killed KGBeast, why don’t we kill every criminal? It would be unfair to only kill criminals who only hurt us personally.”

Damian agreed. If he killed the KGBeast, he would have to kill most criminals he met. For the sake of justice and fairness.

Drake sighed and turned his head to Damian, trying to look him in the eyes. Damian still refused to look back, gazing out over the city.

“Not every criminal, not even every murderer, deserves to die,” Drake said. “I stick by this more than ever. I need to, for Dick. God, Damian, when you first showed up, I thought you were hopeless and that we either needed to send you back to Talia or lock you up. You had killed people, and, sorry, but you were an insufferable brat.” He huffed a short laugh. “Still are sometimes.”

“I will push you off.”

“Wait, Damian. Listen, for once. It took years to convince me. Dick kept telling me that it wasn’t really your fault and that I just had to give you a chance. I never really did, and I’m sorry for that.” He took a deep breath. “That’s his legacy. His legacy is you. He loved you and was so proud of you, Damian. And he was right. I hate to say this, but I just needed to give you a chance. What do you say? Will you give me a chance?”

“Tt.”

Drake laughed, a little teary. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

They sat in silence as the sun climbed the sky and the shadows shortened. Damian still itched to kill the KGBeast, but maybe that wouldn’t be justice after all. He had been just about to leave and hunt him down when Drake showed up, but now, he’d thought better of it.

“Drake,” he said.

“Hm?”

“I don’t need babysitting. Tell that to Grayson when you see him next. And, also tell him that...  he was right about perspective.”

[shigarakis-fifth-hand]

Class of 1-A Imagine

The entire 1-A class got hit by a quirk swapping villain! It’s all randomized and I spent a bunch of time on this! Please draw what they would look like and dm me!

Lida

 - He was lucky enough to get Denki’s quirk

 - Didn't even notice for a few seconds

 - Only realized when he couldn’t run anymore

 - His engines were simply gone ~ POOF!

 - It was only when he looked at his hair and saw bright yellow

 - Immediately runs away as fast as his weak, human legs can take him

 - When they tell him what happens, he forces Kaminari to tell him how to use it

 - “I don’t know, you just... do the thing.”

 - “Well what thing because on page four of using your quirk, it says that...”

 - When Iida gets the hang of it, he doesn’t like to use it

 - He’s terrified of hurting someone, and since he isn’t experienced, he doesn’t want to go brain-dead either

Asui

 - She got Deku’s quirk

 - She doesn’t like how big her arms get

 - All Might immediately helps her since he doesn’t want her to break any bones

 - She doesn’t fully grasp the concept and chooses not to use the quirk

 - She’s seen how bad Deku can get

 - She is overjoyed at something else though

 - “My tongue Mina! Look at my tongue!”

 - Everyone finds out Asui has a beautiful singing voice

 - She’s almost sad to get her own quirk back

 - But it’s okay

 - She can’t hurt herself with her own quirk ~ribbit

 Aoyama

 - He was able to get Sero’s quirk

 - “Well you didn’t hear this from me but it’s truly unfashionable.”

 - “Look at me, the human tape dispenser of 1-A.”

 - “Ugh, I can’t even wear my fur jacket because my elbows are too thick.”

 - “Sero, how do you wear long sleeves with this thing?!”

 - Aoyama doesn’t want to use the quirk, it’s just not “flowing with his vibe”

 - He wears his fancy jackets for the entire month after the quirk wears off

( a picture of Bakugo trying to help Kirishima learn about molecules ^^^^)

Kirishima

 - He got Momo’s quirk

 - At first he’s sad, his unmanly quirk is gone for an entire week!

 - But then he realizes that he can walk around shirtless for an entire week

 - “It’s for my quirk!”

 - He likes being able to make food in an instant, he just doesn’t like it when Aizawa insists that he know the basic molecules of certain things

 - “When am I going to use this? I will never have to make an umbrella in my life!”

 - He likes to stick to food, especially liking that he can make any meal better than Bakugo

 - “Dude! I could solve world hunger from my abs!”

 - “Woah, imagine if I could make a car from my abs.”

 - “Can I make wings like Hawks?!

 - When the week ends, Kirishima is kinda disappointed 

 - But Bakugo is happy he got his cooking buddy back

Koda

 - He got Uraraka’s quirk

 - He’s super excited honestly, he likes being able to fly

 - “I feel like a feather.”

 - Ochako is happy to be able to teach him how

 - “Let’s just stay indoors. We don’t need you floating off to space.”

 - Koda almost wants to go to space

 - Once he learns how to use it, he uses all his time zooming around the dorms

 - Once Aizawa takes them outside to train, he just floats around in the air

 - Aizawa lets him

 - He knows this precious baby needs some relaxation with the clouds

 - He also likes the birds

 - He can’t speak to them though, which is frustrating for him

 - “How do you not remember me? I fed you dinner last night!”

Ojiro

 - He got Tokoyami’s quirk

 - One second his tail was there, the next second it was a mean looking bird

 - Ojiro likes taking his bird on walks, he doesn’t really know what to do with it

 - He talks to the bird sometimes, and for some reason he can understand it

 - “Dark Shadow seems too emo. Let’s try Gregory.”

 - The bird agrees 100%

 - When Ojiro is training, Gregory is too powerful sometimes

 - “How do you control your own shadow?!”

 - Training sessions with Aizawa is just one big mess for Ojiro

 - Nothing gets accomplished accept Ojiro talking to Thompson and Thompson trying to attack anyone who gets close

 - Ojiro is so excited to get his tail back, but it sad that Tokoyami won’t take the same request

 - rip Gregory

( Sato’s reaction to getting Mineta’s quirk^^ )

Sato

 - Sato has Mineta’s quirk

 - Sato doesn’t come out of his room for the entire week

 - Everyone understands

Hagakure

 - She got Sato’s quirk

 - She makes a bunch of sweets as an excuse to eat all of it

 - But that’s not a big deal at all to her

 - She’s not invisible anymore!

 - The moment she realizes that she isn’t invisible, she goes crazy

 - She’s actually kind of tan

 - Not only that but she’s gorgeous!

 - Thick brown hair, green eyes, and she’s so skinny

 - Her face alone has everyone in 1-A dropping dead

 - Some of the guys can’t believe it

 - They’ve chatted with this girl for months and had no idea

 - She wants to ask Ojiro on a date, but what happens when the quirk wears off

 - It does wear off, but nobody cares

 - They always knew she was pretty, and this just confirmed it for sure

Shoji

 - He got Hagakure’s quirk

 - What’s not to love about being invisible?

 - The strange part to him is that he can still see himself

 - All of his extra arms are gone!

 - That’s sad, all of his shirts were custom for those arms

 - He borrows clothes from his friends

 - It’s funny to see a robe and bunny slippers walking around at midnight though

Deku

 - He got Todoroki’s quirk

 - It’s okay though! He’s got his creepy notebook!

 - Todoroki gladly give him teaching on how to use it

 - “Remember, flames do damage and ice can be used to capture things.”

 - Deku knows all of this from his “research”

 - But that doesn’t stop them from spending everyday training together

 - It’s fun... and “helpful”

 - Deku loves being his own microwave and freezer

 - He accidently catches things on fire from time to time

 - He got scared by a movie and froze half the couch

 - Todoroki kissed him and he burned half his shirt off

 - “How do you control this thing?!”

Ururaka

 - She got Mina’s quirk

 - “Yay! I got acid hands! I got acid hands!”

 - Mina makes her wear oven mitts

 - She accidently burns a hole through her bed while having nightmares

 - “High five! Wait... never mind.”

 - “Mina, teach me how to do the thing!”

 - Also let’s not forget that Ochako has pink skin, horns, and alien eyes

 - “Ooh, I look so cute!”

 - Ochako spends most of her time posing in front of the mirror

 - “Look at my horns Kirishima!”

 - “Mina, look at my eyes!”

Denki

 - He got Iida’s quirk

 - Whenever he runs, he ends up going sonic on people

 - “Denki, take a lap!”

 - “I don't think you want that Mr. Aizawa.”

 - Whenever Denki tries to use Iida’s quirk, it’s always a quick fail

 - So far Denki has taken out a trash can, Present Mic, tripped on a basketball, run into a tree, faceplant into dirt, and accidently swallow a bug

 - The worst part is that Denki sleep walks

 - Running into stuff, tripping over a potted plant, falling down a flight of stairs

 - “This is better than being brain dead I guess.”

 - Denki spends most of his time making fun of Iida by waving his arms like a robot and trying on multiple pairs of glasses at once

 - Iida demands that Kaminari trains

 - “Kaminari, you will read all of these books on how to operate engine legs or else!”

 - Kaminari must admit the engine legs are cool

 - Except when Kirishima put hot dogs in them

 - The entire class room smelled like burnt meat

Jiro

 - “Cool! I look like a frog!”

 - She got Asui’s quirk

 - Her hair turned green, her tongue grew, and her pupils dialated

 - “Asui, look at this!”

 - She uses her tongue to swing off the dusty chandelier when Iida isn’t looking

 - “Ew! They should make tongue condoms!”

 - Jiro and Ochako have a blast teasing Mina and Asui

 - “Ribbit bitch! Your frog queen has arrived!”

 - Denki gets Jiro a crown to wear around the dorms

 - Ochako buys the four girls frog onesies

 - “So kawaii!”

 - Jiro never was into swimming until now

 - She likes that her fingers don’t get wrinkly

Sero

 - He got Ojiro’s quirk

 - “Dude, look at my tail!”

 - Bakugo makes fun of his “backwards dick”

 - It’s funny, but not that funny

 - In return Sero whips him with it

 - “I feel like a monkey!”

 - Sero hangs from everything he can

 - “This thing has more muscles than I do!”

 - He goes to a playground nearby with Denki and swings off the monkey bars

Tokayami

 - He got Koda’s quirk

 - “I’ve never been much about nature. Too much light, not enough darkness.”

 - Bakugo jokes that he can finally talk to his pigeon brothers

 - “Dude! The birds love you!”

 - And everyone is right

 - As soon as Tokoyami walks outside, a pigeon lands on his head

 - “Why did that pigeon just speak to me?!”

 - Tokoyami is scared of the outside now

 - “I can hear their voices still!”

 - Tokoyami has a panic attack over being able to hear the animal voices

 - “Why do ants sound so manly?”

Todoroki

 - He got Bakugo’s quirk

 - “I’m not asking that bastard for help.”

 - Instead, he goes to Deku for training

 - “Deku, you have that stalker notebook still?”

 - Bakugo’s quirk is like his own quirk

 - “Seriosuly? Just heat?”

 - “Kind of basic if you ask me.”

 - Once Bakugo hears that, he goes beserk

 - “Icyhot!”

 - “Oh no no, you can’t call me that anymore.”

 - Todoroki likes propelling himself in the air with explosions

 - Bakugo’s quirk is too loud, like his personality

 - He doesn’t like using the quirk honestly

 - “It's not very good, very violent, and I don’t like getting sweaty.”

Bakugo

 - He got Kirishima’s quirk

 - “Yea bro, you can get hard too now!”

 - Mina tries to stop him from saying that

 - Poor bby doesn't understand

 - Kirishima tries to help, but Bakugo is having no part in that

 - “How difficult can your quirk be Shitty Hair?”

 - It isn’t easy though, especially when Bakugo is forced to be shirtless.

 - He’s used to his hero outfit covering his chest

 - Bby is a little self conscious

 - The best part is that he doesn’t sweat that much

 - “Fuck yea! I don’t smell like fucking cinnamon and caramel!”

 - Bakugo does miss his explosions and hand grenades

 - Your quirk is too boring Kirishima, and it’s not loud at all

Momo

 - She got Aoyama’s quirk

 - Her immediate reaction is to read a bunch

 - “Aoyama! Wait up, I have so many questions!”

 - Next though, she has fun with it

 - “It’s so pretty!”

 - Along the way her and Aoyama become friends

 - He brings her pain releivers to help with the stomach pains

 - “It sucks but at least it’s pretty.”

Mina

 - She got Jiro’s quirk!

 - Immediately her skin isn’t pink, her horns are gone, and her eyes turn bright blue

 - She’s still as spunky as ever though

 - “Dude! Imagine all the hot gossip I can listen to!”

 - Mina tries the teacher’s lounge with Asui and Ochako, only to hear Aizawa and Present Mic planning a date night

 - “We should totally go as well!” Mina offers

 - They go on all sorts of “spy missions”

 - Mina also likes being able to tan with Momo from time to time

 - She does miss her horns though

 - She realizes quickly that Jiro’s earphone jacks are also Bluetooth

 - Jiro just never told anyone before

 - When Mina gets her quirk back, she is so happy to look “normal” again

Omg this took all day! Please comment down below your favorite combo and if I should do another one! Love you all! Stay safe! <3333

[calypsoff]

Eight

I hate and love interviews, I feel my overseas interviews are better than my American ones, “you done girl?” I said to my makeup artist “break is over near enough” Mylah laughed side eyeing me “all done” she walked off, taking in a deep breath “all set! We resume in three, two and one!” turning to Jonathan “welcome back, we have the beautiful Rihanna. Did you ever think you would be this famous? Looking back, did you think you would be known by millions of people? Like you can’t even have space now, we have fans knocking outside” I chuckled “erm, it’s hard. I love to have my space, I find my peace at home and that is in Barbados, this is where I can be me when I am at home. I can drive, I can see my people so I do go back there every time to get peace” I hate when I talk with my hands, now I can notice it, it is actually annoying “do you get asked for pictures there or not? Or are you the people’s princess like you are here” I giggled “am I a princess here? Well in Barbados they don’t hound me, if there are tourists around then I may get it but the people, my people. They call me Robyn; I am Robyn to them. I get all the love and hug for being me, and it’s a great feeling because I have inspired a new generation of talent there, that you can do it. I love my home, and that is my peace” clasping my hands together, I need to stop “I have been Barbados before it’s a beautiful place, so what is next for Rihanna? The empire you are building” raising an eyebrow “empire? Well next for me is I am working on another album and, I have something in the pipeline that I think people will love and won’t see coming, it’s a big collaboration. It’s something I have always wanted to do; I can’t say it but it’s coming. But that is me right now, I have a few projects coming up but I am working on a new album” nodding my head smiling “you know what I love about you? So I don’t keep up with who is dating who but, we all go through horrible break ups but how you and ASAP Rocky, your then boyfriend. The way you both broke up was so fluid, I couldn’t even comprehend how amicable that was, there was no mean words or anything. Just yes we have love for each other but as friends, so smooth. What advice do you give to people that don’t want to be with their partners?” I wasn’t expecting that question “wow, it’s hard because everyone is in different situations but you need make yourself happy, I tried to carry it on but I was doing it for what was around me, so people adored him and us together but I am a happier person now. The would be, go with your heart” even though my heart is in hiding now, I did go with my heart.

Sitting in the car next to Jay Brown “next up Miami!” I spat; I need to start working on my album now. I have been here in London for longer then two weeks and it’s getting too much, I have people that want to add their vocals onto the songs I have kind of already done “yes, I don’t understand and I never got to ask, why did you break up with Rakim when you was both perfect?” I knew he would start “perfect for promotional things, we are better as friends and we knew that. We went wrong when label got involved and got us together” he won’t like that “got involved? We didn’t force you both together” I sniggered “sure, that is what that meeting was for then? Just to say hi to us, we practically had a meeting about it. Doesn’t matter now, we are happy, and we still talk” shaking my head, he is annoying. Men are actually very annoying, Chris included. It’s been about two weeks now, no contact from Chris at all. I did think, let me do it and he didn’t contact me back. He didn’t even read my message either, he hasn’t posted anything at all but delete pictures of his ex. I have posted pictures thinking he would react, no. So fuck him, I guess that is it. More so, my heart is in hiding and has been ever since New York, it hurts but we move on. I mean I didn’t ask for much, I said dick appointments but whatever, my fingers are fine.

Hugging Sonita “I am sad you not coming with me, but we will meet soon. I will be back in Barbados before you know it. I love you” we are now having to split ways, Leandra and Sonita are both going back home “I love you too, this has been great. Just to spend time with you” moving back from the hug “and bitch, meet me in Miami when you can” hugging Leandra “you know me, I will be behind you. Have a safe flight while we ride economy” I chuckled “only the best for two hoodrat bitches” I cackled moving back from the hug “girl fuck you, love you Robyn!” waving them off, Rich picked up my suitcase “let’s go back to the USA whores” I would have got the jet but I rather just fly business class on a plane, I don’t really care for being on a jet. Only when I am with my family I will put us all together but I am working I just fly on a plane, but then you get the added bonus of paparazzi up my ass “you leaving us Rihanna!” one shouted, smiling as I continued to walk with Rich. Get me to the VIP lounge so I can have some peace “love you Rihanna!” as soon as the guy shouted my name the whole airport decided to push and now this is where is gets draining.

“Christopher” I groaned, my vision blurred and the lights. Opening my eyes only to close them again “Christopher, take your time. He is coming around, this is good” frowning with my eyes closed, pain hit me so hard. Opening my eyes slowly “son” my dad’ face all in mine, I am confused “Clinton, please don’t get in his face” hearing my mother say “what happened” I managed to say and then it hit me “Christopher, you are in hospital right now” it hit me, closing my eyes again and it’s there. I got beat up, I knew that shit I did would come back to me, I knew them niggas would come at me for snitching “we will give him a moment, just let him come around” hearing the doctor say, I was beating that guy up when he came at me, I remember but then I blanked out “how long has it been?” my throat is dry, I feel so lost “to be exact, we put you in an induced coma, worried for the injuries to your brain. It has been overall two weeks” I breathed out “oh my god” I said in a whisper, I have been gone for two weeks.

My mom is emotional but so am I, I blanked out but between that time I could have been killed but it makes me wonder why I wasn’t, how am I here. I feel the pain “we was so scared Chris, we thought we lost you. The doctor was saying all sorts of things to us, I told you to move back with us” shaking my head “my own family hate me mom, because I got their son more time for snitching. They hate me here, look what happened. All I did was come to see you both, I left the home to go back and that was it. I am in pain mom; all I did was come to see you. There was one nigga, and we fought and that was it, all I remember” shaking my head “they got arrested son, don’t worry. They got caught, they left you for dead, outside the home. I cried and prayed every day and night, god just to bring you back. You just rest now; you will be in pain. Your face is better, your body is sore. Just to stare into your eyes my baby” I am so angry “I am not even like that, I just want to be left alone” looking away from my parents “I bet I lost my job now too, the only place that will hire a convict like me, even that was done because of who I knew” this is a mess “don’t think about work son, just think of you” so easy for my dad to say that.

My parents left me, they left because of how silent I am. I am laid here thinking, I should be thankful I am alive right now, but I just hate myself, I hate that I am worth nothing now and still I am getting my ass beat. I fought back but they played dirty, second time getting my ass beat and this time I was in a coma, next time I will be dead but the least I won’t need to think someone is going to get my ass if I wasn’t here, I am just a mess. I had so much going for me; I had a life. I had a future, and everyone saw it, now I haven’t. Now I got to be the thug that I am now, I have to protect myself. Maybe I need to go into a crew because if I was in a crew then this shit won’t constantly happen “bro, oh my god. I am so glad to see you!” TJ half shouted, looking to the side of me, he rushed over to the bed “you’re awake, my nigga I was so scared you wasn’t going to actually wake up and we lost you, you good?” nodding my head “I am alive” I mumbled “bro” Barry said, I didn’t need them to come because I feel depressed as fuck.

Sighing out heavily “you are so down ain’t you?” Barry said, “what are the streets saying?” I asked because I am going to be back out there and I bet they are laughing at me, I got beat twice “lot of niggas are upset for you and also, someone hit you from behind. Niggas weak like that, heard that you beat the other guy’ ass but one of the members played dirty, niggas don’t play like that so they look stupid, I wouldn’t worry about them Chris. I want you to worry about you, get the fuck better. I was so scared when they said they putting you in an induced coma, they was worried your brain was going to be damaged” I should be blessed but I don’t feel it “I feel lost” feeling my eyes well up “you cool bro, stop thinking that shit. We got you, I swear you my brother and I am happy you here” TJ being nice as hell “appreciate you both, trust me” I mumbled “my body hurts like mad, doctors are keeping me in and they said they ain’t looking to let me go right now. They want to do scans of my head and shit, I am good though but they ain’t letting it happen. I don’t think I will be able to move anyways, even now just moving my head side to side I am in pain. It’s wack but yeah, I will be here for a while” I better get comfortable.

TJ left to get some drink for himself “I have your phone, it died but I charged it. I don’t know your passcode but twin text you once, that was two weeks ago” Barry winked at me “but Seiko been acting like the widow, it’s weird. I literally said to her y’all are split but yeah. I kept your phone safe, I got you my nigga” I feel so weak even holding my phone “two week bro, I can’t believe it. Do I look bad?” I ain’t seen my face yet “a little bruised up, your hair is a mess bro. I mean looking bad” I expected that, I grinned. Let me see what twin wants, she probably hates me. This shit has been two weeks, I don’t think I will text her back because it’s been that long “damn” I got my password wrong, typing it in again because the phone ain’t recognizing my face of course. The first message I went on is of course Twin, but there is so many others and lots of other messages, but I don’t care for it, I need to know what she has put.

Twin:

Hey freckles how are you?

I want to ignore the message because it’s shameful to answer back after all this time but then it’s rude, but what would I say to her. Do I tell her the truth, let me message her back anyways and if she is angry then so be it.

Chris:

I’m alive, you!?

“I just realised you peeing in a bag” TJ spat pointing, of course he would point that out. Locking my phone “you dumb, I can’t really get up and pee. I don’t even think I am capable of walking at this moment” TJ laughed sitting down “is your nurse fine though? Like she going to wash the royal dick” see what I mean by he is stupid “royal dick!? Where the fuck do you get this shit from” Barry said laughing, my phone pinged in my hand. She’s messaged me back, I am shocked.

Twin:

You could have just not text me…….

Chris:

I jump at your texts but this time I couldn’t

Twin:

Sure

Chris:

Not a lie

Twin:

Sure and anyways I decided to not come for my appointment I cancel

Chris:

Sorry if I upset you for not texting but I been in hospital

Twin:

You got a face on with me when I said dick appointment so miss me with that!

Chris:

I wish that was the issue but it isn’t, I will send a picture to you. Just be ready

I didn’t want to take a selfie, but she doesn’t believe because I was upset with her when she started to speak on me being a dick appointment, it was pathetic, and I was annoyed with her. Flipping the camera around, I actually feel disgusted, I have a bandaged head. Flipping it back over, let me take a picture of my hand with the IV lines, that can work. Taking the picture and sending it to her “rest up, don’t let anything get to you” nodding my head but my phone rang straight away, I don’t think I am mentally ready to be talking to Robyn right now but she is ringing, answering the call “hey” TJ and Barry are both staring at me “oh my god, I am shaking. Are you serious, what happened!?” I can tell Robyn is in shock “it’s a long story, but I woke up out of a induced coma. I wish I could speak to you longer, but I am tired” I feel it “I am literally shaking, which hospital are you in?” I think she is on a plane, sounds like it “we will link up when I am better but just know I am not lying” that is all I wanted her to know “I will find you but just rest, I am actually shaking right now, just take care” I can’t even take care of myself right at this moment.

[fanfoolishness]

Together Forever reaction post

Hooo boy.  These were... a doozy of a pair.

Connie really is going to become the president, isn’t she?

The way Steven turns off the happiness with Connie instantly when she hangs up

My heart.

He’s pink again -- fear, fear, fear.

I WANT TO SKETCH NATURE AND ANIMALS

Ruby is the best!

Except when she gives terrible, terrible advice

Steven is so much taller than Ruby and Sapphire now!

Steven, you don’t have to stay in Beach City

That was a beautiful little moment!

Don’t say you haven’t thought about it!

*laugh* Of course I have.

Of course he has!!! That is so sweet and still age-appropriate to just be thinking about it--

So the proposal badge has a pink person proposing to a brown person, how ridiculous!!

Also I love that Ruby just HAD THAT???

I love that this episode really brought out some of Ruby and Sapphire’s individual characteristics.  Garnet would never be quite this lighthearted and badge oriented, but Ruby is.

We got the most star-eyes of all star-eyes in this episode, between Steven’s pulsing star eyes and Ruby’s golden ones (LIKE A SHERIFF)

I really enjoy the explanation that Future Vision is a really intense and instinctual and nearly instantaneous sort of math!

I love that Sapphire is cool... but also ridiculous

And her little fist raise!

He really is Steven Quartz Cutie-Pie DeMayo Diamond Universe!

When do you think he added the Diamond?

Cracking the glowstick!

Checking out his own bum in the mirror!

sooooooo cute

it’s a good bum, you should be proud, my son

Did y’all notice how none of the townspeople but Nanefua were the same old boardies?  Beach City is changing, and doing so without Steven.

Their fooooootsteps

Steven falling over on his bike in the sand

I love how round he is, awww

Connie is SWOOOOOONING

If you’d just kissed her then! or just said you want to be with her forever but like as not-official-commitment thing!!! it would have been perfect poor boy!!!!!

she loves you! it’s obvious!

you don’t have to DO THISSSSS

All the commentary I’ve seen about this song being Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart with a side of self-loathing is true... it’s beautiful if coming from someone mentally healthy, deeply concerning since we know what Steven has been going through lately.

That said, if my husband did something like this to me I might die from squeeing XD

He’s so excited for his plan I just can’t

she is so smitten

looking at all those times she brushes her hair away and just gaaaazes at him

and then

the horror

poor Connie!!!!

maybe we should talk about this DEFINITELY

you guys ARE really young!!!

Yes!  I want to be Stevonnie with you but also my own person -- just so beautiful.  Connie has always seemed too independent to want to be a permafusion. And she should be!  

But Steven...  he’s so uncertain of himself, so falling-out-of-love with himself....

my heart just breaks. it breaks a thousand times over.

Also dammit you guys, being sure you’re spending the rest of your lives together and not even a smooth

I mean maybe they’re ace? but I haven’t seen much to support that either way

but come on... smooooooochies

Garnet foresaw them!!!!

I am starting to feel like we will never get a Connverse kiss now lol.

The way Connie has to climb over the obstacle course of Steven’s broken dreams breaks my heart AGAIN.

I love this side of Connie so much.  She loves Steven.  Loves him to pieces. Wants to be her own person.  Knows how to manage priorities, people over  school.  She wants to show him that this mistake doesn’t ruin things. She is so worried right now in the face of his blithe coverup and I just love how fierce she is, always, in all things.

And then... Steven just lets himself fall. Goes pink.  The blast -- you know he heard the guitar strings break, you know he knows it’s all ruined. And he doesn’t even look.

They really knocked it out of the park with the mood and the backgrounds on this one.  The little lingers on the waves just give space for the sadness to creep in.

He’s... been crying... for like an hour... I can’t

I’ve seen a lot of people hating Garnet for this, but I don’t hate her.  Was it a bad, bad idea to encourage Steven to do something that would fail? Probably.  Though maybe it will help him later in moving forward for help.  I don’t know.  The ethics of Future Vision have always been troubling if you look too hard at it.

Perhaps Garnet feels Steven has taught her a lesson in trying to intervene. He had bad reactions in Future Vision and Steven’s Dream.  Perhaps this feels like the least damaging way for things to play out.  Maybe it would have been worse if Steven thought Garnet would tell him “I told you so” at the end of it all.

y’all I love her hand on his shoulder.  I love it. I’ll die for it.

And this. Such a profoundly good Steven face.  I can’t.

Garnet’s advice is so good NOW... why wouldn’t this have worked earlier!!!!

and Steven’s stress eating begins.

No more “too sweet for me.” 

No more attempts at trying to be healthy and adult with his food.

Just fuck it, get the cake in my fucking mouth.

Steven, I know.  I know. <3

So much happening here.  It’s not the plot point I would ever have guessed on my own -- though, thanks for the people who didn’t tag the leak on this one, grrrr --- but the way it was done was the only way it could have gone well. Connie absolutely would never say yes to a proposal at this age.  Steven would never be a dick incel who blames Connie for saying no in a kind and hopeful way that makes it clear she still loves him and wants to be with him.  But it’s a wound, a terrible terrible wound, a humiliating one tied up with disappointment and fear and desperation and self-loathing (I’d rather be me with you, because I don’t want to be me at all).  What normal person would make such a big mistake? Steven must wonder.  And as we see in Growing Pains, this is not something Steven can just brush off.

[majorbitchwillgraham]

I have yet to think of a title for this fanfiction “Keep it Close to Your Heart”

I wrote a story based on this photo of Mads Hannibal and with inspiration from the primavera scene where Will looks at Hanni’s photo of his younger self :) you know that tradition where couples would send photos of each other if they were apart?

Day 1

Hannibal had said "I will be gone for aproximately a month," a hint of hesitation or consideration for Will barely visible in the lack of expression on his face, "there are two people in that city who might have known I decided to move here, they are the only ones who could have known, and I plan to kill them. But besides from the time it will take me to evaluate the surroundings and find a place to stay, I intend to let time pass between both of their deaths. All of this also asuming there aren't any difficulties." Will notices how he chose to say "dificulties" instead of "complications".

"I can come with you and help you." Will says this calmly, looking him in the eyes and disliking how there's a feeling of concern inevitably starting to form inside him.

"No, I... I don't want to risk you" Hannibal admits, his thumb stroking Will's jawline. Will sighs.

"What about you?" He puts his hand over Hannibal's, "Are you the one being put at risk-- So, are they dangerous?" Will grimaces. Hannibal lowers his hand.

"Not regarding intellect." Hannibal's voice nearly flat, and there almost seemed to be a glint in his eye.

Will is mad at himself after he lets him go. Hannibal can't simply ignore his human vulnerability, no matter how confident he is in his abilities.

Pictures Hannibal being successful without a single complication. Which is the thing most likely to happen. Pictures the dead bodies. Who are they though. Are they good people-- The concern evaporates in seconds, after all this is not the first time Will has indirectly allowed others to be sacrificed in order to save his own skin. Only now it is both their skins. Something he won't hesitate protecting now.

Day 15

It's the first time Hannibal has been gone, like this, since they got together. Of course Hannibal wouldn't have stepped half a mile away when they were still... clouded with that bittersweet uncertainity. Will is pretty much spoiled by now, he realizes, when he gets disappointed at how no one joins him in the shower, forehead pressed against the back of his neck.

Will never thought one day he would feel so calm, knowing the person he waits for is his husband. He takes the dogs out in the morning while he seizes the opportunity of checking their often empty mailbox. He feels silly opening it, "it's only been 15 days, it's not like he's gonna--" and his fingers meet an envelope waiting there.

The envelope had written on it with the characteristic calligraphy Will knows so well: "For you". He is surprised when inside there isn't a letter, but a photograph. A photograph of Hannibal.

Will doesn't really need to question it because he already knows what this gesture means. He probably went into his grandma's box of photographs and found a similar portrait of a young her, and was told "I gave that to your grandfather". This is a gesture that says "Think about me". His eyes begin to smile at the thought.

He almost doesn't notice how his hand holding the photo caresses it a little, while he looks at the expression on Hannibal's face. He isn't smiling. He is looking straight at the camera (who did he ask to take him this picture..?) with a look in his eyes... it has half calm in it, and the other half is the one used for pinning against the wall, only with Will it's with a different intention. Will's eyes go through the strand of hair falling on his forehead, and the softness of his neck. As if the tenderness in his eyes could be felt as a caress along the same path.

He notices the other side of the photograph has something else written on it, with the same calligraphy.

The photo says:

"Keep this photograph close to your heart, knowing I think of nothing but your lips and only look forward to hold you in my arms again"

Will can feel a rush of heat run through him as soon as he finishes reading the sentence. The first thing he can do is let out a brief laugh, breathless, more like a nervous exhale, as he is thinking "are we 1940's lovebirds now?". He is biting his lip and smiling, because it's not that he didn't like it; it's just the immediate defense mechanism that tells him something is too good to be true and so there has to be something funny about it.

In their time together so far, Hannibal's affection had slowly drenched him and soothed him into healing, but Will never expected him to do this. What had he known about love?, all his life people didn't get close enough in the first place, and when they did, it had been "you are cute but you are too weird", "I just wanted someone to pass the time with", "I think there is something wrong with you", and even "I wouldn't be good for you and you wouldn't be good for me". Even with the notable exception of "the person I love isn't even who you really are" which wasn't bad at all, love had never felt real, it felt always like an abstract concept, an alternate reality of something he knew deep down would happen to other people but not him.

When he is holding the photograph Hannibal just sent him, he knows once again that his entire existence since he had met him has been real. What was love now? Looks that don't need to speak a single word, pain that fills two bodies at once. Knowing the face in the photograph and the hadwriting on it match, and realizing you have never feared and loved anyone else more in your life.

Will can't help but close his eyes, the wind is running through his hair and the grass of the field, and the image appears of Hannibal sitting next to a window somewhere, he has barely spoken in the entire day and his eyes are fixed on the dust floating around but suddenly a smile forms on his mouth because he is thinking of Will's lips, he is thinking of him. And then the sensation of unbelievable softness around him, the relief of listening to Hannibal breathing while he holds him.

He carefully puts the photograph inside the pocket on his chest and heads back to the house together with the dogs.

Day 19

Only a few days have passed but he has to admit he really misses Hannibal. Especially because they are not talking on the phone. Hannibal didn't want anyone there to know he was no longer alone. He took the time to send the photograph because he misses him too.

Will put Hannibal's photograph on the mirror of their bedroom, he gives a look at it before beginning a day of work. One day he feels goofy and winks at it, after he is done getting dressed.

And one night as Will had decided to look at it for a while before falling asleep, the yellowish light from the table lamp giving the image just enough clarity, Will looks at Hannibal's mouth and finds himself now imagining how those lips feel kissing on his neck, or how they look starting to suck on his dick. He looks down at himself with a sigh as if that would help the image to form better, then glances at the dogs who are sleeping soundly before sliding a hand down his body.

He looks at that jawline, and imagines himself kissing all over it like he did the other night, Hannibal's hands tightening on his arms showing how much he was liking it.

Now his mouth kissing Hannibal's chest until he finally turns them around and pins Will down, returning to the image of Hannibal going down his body, taking him in his mouth.

Will is breathing heavily at this point, his eyes are closed, the hand holding the photograph has been put aside on the bed, his other hand starts moving faster and he just has to picture Hannibal sucking him off repeteadly until he at last comes all over the sheet that was covering him. He lets out an exclamation as quietly as he can, then waits for his breathing to slow down savouring the last bits of pleasure.

He looks at his hand still holding the picture, and wearily turns his body around to leave it on the bedside table, his feet clumsily discarding the sheets to the floor. Will bites his lip absentmindedly, giving one last look at it, before placing it on the surface and falling on his back, exhausted.

"I'm not sure this is what he meant with 'keep it close to your heart'". Will contemplates earnestly, eyebrows raising, and soon his eyelids begin to become heavy.

As if the picture could move, the last thing he sees before falling asleep is Hannibal looking down away from the camera, almost shyly, with a calm smile.

Day 30

Today is the 30th day. Hannibal could return today, or tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow... For the first time Will frowns about the fact that he wasn't able to tell him an exact date. That doesn't help Will be convinced that he could handle things without complications or being in danger. Will's concerned look gets a hint of sadness as he heads upstairs to grab Hannibal's photograph from their mirror.

"Even without the photograph, I would have thought of you" Will's inner voice speaks as if Hannibal somewhere could hear him.

He frowns a little when he notices the photo is damaged at the edges. If for some reason Hannibal never came back, this would be the only-- woah. There was no reason for fatalist thoughts at that moment. He just had to wait. Besides, he reminds himself with a smirk, what are anybody's chances against Hannibal Lecter's determination to kill you.

Will knows he is married to a monster. As far as the definition goes; but Hannibal changed him as much as he changed Hannibal, and he has taught him that monsters can be beautiful.

A monster was the only one who could see right through him and in many ways truly appreciate the value within him. The only one to see him as a radiance with blood and breath undergoing change and fueling it, instead of just "unstable". Hannibal, in his monstrous way, loved him more than anyone. Will's heart aches at the thought. He knows he feels the same.

Will sits on a chair at the porch and he is holding the photograph, his hand resting on his lap. He looks at the photo of Hannibal and thinks to himself, "my beautiful husband", frankly and without any restraint.

That is when Will feels it, a faint breeze on the back of his neck, his eyes look up from his lap and into the distance, because they are not looking at anything in front of him, it's nothing but an automatic movement that allows the rest of the senses to focus, after all, of all places it's behind him where his eyes should be looking. He puts the photo on his shirt pocket.

The sensation is almost imperceptible and being picked up by that inexplicable part of the brain, the same that knows when someone is looking at you, probably for survival purposes.

What part of the mind senses it, when no sound has been made to alert you? "Could it not be the mind then...but my heart?" Will thinks, because in a couple of seconds he knew it:

My love has returned home.

He gets up with ease and nonchalance from the chair, turns around without any precaution, and Hannibal is suddenly standing there on the porch a meter away from him. A small smile starts forming on Will's lips when their eyes meet.

The smile turns mischievous and Will turns around again, decidedly walking towards the house's entrance and into their home so he can wait for Hannibal behind the main door. Hannibal smiles in a quiet content, as he wasn't entirely expecting this, but goes along with it, following Will's steps and standing outside the door, revealing playfulness just a little.

Will looks at him silently through the screen fabric, before shyly looking down again, like he is waiting for him to say something. So Hannibal begins.

"Kind Sir, I'm just a traveler who is tired after his long journey, would you allow me rest in your home?"

"Well, I have never let a stranger in before... how can I know if you are dangerous?" Will gives him an innocent look, "besides, I live in a humble home. I'm not sure here could be much for me to offer you?"

Hannibal takes a step closer to the door, in a way his faces are only a few inches apart, and Will rests the side of his head against it still looking at his husband.

"...I'm sure a house as lovely as its owner has very comfortable beds to offer. But the most comfortable for me.. certainly must be your own."

Will looks down, mildly overwhelmed and enjoying it, then immediately opens the door welcoming Hannibal in, and they look at each other, now without any barrier. They don't say a word and get trapped in each other's arms; they know this means "I missed you. Glad you are ok". Both their eyes are closed in peaceful enjoyment, Will's mouth rests against Hannibal's shoulder, while he nuzzles against his hair.

When they break the embrace, although continuing to hold each other, Will lays his back against one of the walls of the entrance, enjoying Hannibal's gaze on him.

"Did you.. get the photograph?" Hannibal can't contain himself.

"Yes." Will smiles, "Loved it."

The written message had been precisely tender and never too sweet even for him, and he hadn't absolutely done anything else with it other than look--

"Did you touch yourself looking at it?"

Hannibal is barely smiling and his eyes are blinking in that way only he knows how... Will looks down at his lips for a moment, enjoying how the blood starts rushing downwards.

"Yes." he admits shamelessly, looking him in the eyes again.

Also now he can finally admit to himself how insanely it turns him on Hannibal looking all the way through to the bottom of his skull, or is it just how he looks like he might be ready to eat Will right now, but instead Hannibal slides a hand through Will's hair to gently kiss him on the lips. Delicately like a butterfly posing on a flower, savouring what he hadn't had the chance to in an entire month and had constantly desired. Will's trembling hand slowly lands on the side of his neck, fingers curling against it as they begin to kiss painfully slow.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Anniversary (Taakitz)

This is my gift for @iamthehelperdog for the @thecandlenightszone 2019 exchange. Also my first time writing this pairing, so I hope it turned out okay!

Kravitz steps through the rift into the living room, enjoying the satisfaction that comes with the days work of a reaper and the drama his profession lends his entrances. 

Said drama is cut very short when his next step sends him stumbling over the largest wolfhound on this or any other realm.

“Ow.” He mutters into the rug, the fanciest one Taako could get his hands on, while the dog snuffles his head. 

“Mango, I swear if he just damaged my bone daddy I’m gonna blast you into the next century. Taako’s in the mood to get dicked down tonight, not take his boyfriend to the fantasy E.R.”

“Sorry Kravitz!” Magnus calls from the general direction of the kitchen before whistling for the hound. 

“It’s fine!” He calls back, standing up and resting his scythe in the holder by the front door (okay, so it’s technically for an umbrella, and the scythe will dematerialize in a matter of moments, but the domesticity of the action makes him smile).

“Nice to see you Magnus. Hello, love.” He pecks Taako’s cheek, not wanting to interrupt his flow as he cooks. It’s hard not to do more; Taako’s wearing the gold and teal skirt that shows off his legs, and his hair is pulled into the kind of messy bun that only he and a few sorority soceresses can make look good. 

“Reap anyone good today bones?” Taako dumps something heavily sage-scented into a dish.

“Nothing too unusual. Though I’m sort of worried that Barry and Lup have created a trend of lich lovers.”

“You mean people wanting to have sex with liches?” Magnus reaches for one of the slices of bread on a nearby tray, only for Taako to whack his hand away with a magically elongated spatula.

“Not quite. It’s more that they think what Barry and Lup did was romantic, even though the process was done as a fail-safe more than anything else. Setting aside the whole “defying the laws of death” issue, that process can backfire so messily that it’s better to head it off when we can.”

“What do they think of the whole thing?”

“Barry’s slightly embarrassed and Lup thinks it’s hilarious and, I suspect, a bit romantic. Even if she’d torch me for suggesting that.”

“You bet you tight skeleton ass she would.” Taako shoos their spectral cat, Dust, from her spot hovering above the counter. 

“So do they get a warning or-”

“It depends, mainly on how likely we think they are to try again.” He goes on to explain the rather star-crossed pair he dealt with that morning, as well as a spectre who was adamant about staying a ghost rather than crossing over. 

At first it feels like any other catch-up night, but as he and Magnus chat, something itches at him like pinfeathers, a sensation he long ago learned to trust. Something isn’t right.

Usually when he’s at the kitchen table, with by himself or with their friends, Taako is a motormouth in motion, chatting away as he cooks. Tonight, his comments are limited. 

Maybe he’s just in a contemplative mood. His boyfriend is allowed time to ruminate just like everyone else. Even if he usually does so out loud. 

But the itching in his marrow doesn’t cease. He looks over at the elf again. He loves watching Taako cook, the way he moves through the kitchen like a dancer on a stage. As he searches his movements, his profile, for some sign and starts going a bit starry-eyed from how beautiful he is, it hits him.

The dogs. 

Taako never lets dogs, Magnus’s or anyone else’s in the kitchen. It’s one of his rules.

Yet here they are, the wolfhound asleep beneath the table and the lab nosing about for dropped food. 

Either his boyfriend is under some sort of mind control spell, or something is wrong.

“Love, I’m going to grab wine for tonight from the cellar. Do you have a preference?” 

“It’s all hearty stuff, since we’ve got brawny here, so something red.”

“Got it. Magnus, would you mind helping me? I want to bring up several options just to be safe.”

“Sure.” Magnus shrugs with a smile and follows Kravitz out of the kitchen and down to the lower level. It’s only once they’re halfway down the cellar, safely out of range of elf-ears, that Kravitz poses his question.

“Does Taako seem off to you tonight?”

“Kinda? He let boys into the kitchen, but I didn’t say anything because I was kind of hoping it means he’s changed his rules. Not that they’ve got to go everywhere with me, but they look so sad waiting for us in the living room.”

“How was he before I got home?” They hit the bottom step, Kravitz scanning the shelves for the right bottle. 

“Normal Taako. We talked about the new floating aquarium Angus made Stephen, he complained about the restaurant down the road...but didn’t say he could make their stuffy a billion times better. Oh, shit.”

Kravtiz starts, nearly drops the bottle, “What?” 

“It’s the 15th, right?”

“Yes…”

“It’s the anniversary of the, y’know” Magnus puts a hand on his throat, making a choking noise. 

“Oh no.” That explains everything. 

“Wait, he never told you?”

Kravitz sighs, leaning against a nearby wine rack, “He’s told me about Glamour Springs, though for obvious reasons it’s not a popular topic. But he never mentioned a date, not that I can remember anyway”

“Hey, it’s okay, I only know it because he once got sloshed on Dwarven ale and told us all about it. Don’t know why Merle always uses Zone of Truth when he could just give people that.” Magnus is trying to lighten to mood, and Kravitz lets him. 

“Might be harder to toss out during a fight.”

“Dunno, I got a pretty good arm.” Magnus grins, takes the two bottles Kravtiz gives him, and leads the way upstairs. 

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

The rest of the evening is perfectly pleasant, Taako seeming ore like himself as they talk over dinner. He even lounges, his preferred mode of rest, feet in Kravtiz’s lap, while Magnus does the dishes. 

As he rubs his feet (and notes that he’ll need to repaint Taako’s toenails soon), he wonders if he should bring up the date. He could let Taako be, let him do whatever he needs to in order to deal with what he’s feeling. 

But what if Kravitz is what he needs, and he’s too haughty to admit it? He can’t bear the thought of being able to help the man he loves feel better and not doing it because he misreads the situation. 

Taako makes it easy on him.

“Alright, bone boy, spill; why did you have Magnus go down to the cellar?” Taako crosses his arms, blocking Kravitz’s path to the dresser (so what he can materialize clothes? Taako bought him some black silk pajamas and he likes looking dapper in them, damn it).

“To help me carry wine. I wanted to bring you a selection.”

Taako arches an eyebrow, “You have one of the best palates for wine of anyone living or dead I know. You didn’t need to grab more than one.”

“Uh, I wanted Magnus’s opinion?”

The eyebrow arches higher.

“Okay, you’re right. I knew that Languedoc would be perfect for the steak pie you made.” He sighs,  sits down on the bed, “I was worried about you, and I wanted to ask Magnus if he was noticing the same things.”

“Worried? Cha’boy is fine.” Taako waves his hand dismissively, “He made a baller dinner and is gonna get boned by his hot boyfriend. What could be wrong?”  He pulls his hair loose from it’s ties, shaking it out in a way that’s almost comically gorgeous. 

“Magnus told me what day it is.” Kravitz says softly. 

Taako sags, tries to recover his glib demeanor only for his disguise to flicker, then disappear entirely. He glances behind himself at the mirror, winces with distaste, turning his Wonderland-aged face back to Kravitz. 

It’s not that Kravitz doesn’t notice the difference between the faces. He simply doesn’t care. Taako is Taako, and Kravitz loves him, and would worship the ground he walks on, no matter what face he wears. 

He holds out his hands and Taako takes them, let’s him guide the elf down to sit beside him. 

“Dove, you don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. But you also don’t need to conceal whatever you’re feeling from me. I love you, and I want to help you if you’re hurting.”

“I’d really rather not focus on it. But I got a feeling you’re not gonna let it go.”

“If you need me to drop it, I will. I could also give you something else to focus on.”

Taako glances at him, skeptical, “Like what?”

“Well” Kravitz strands, grabbing a bottle of massage oil from the dresser, “I thought I could make use of my magic fingers.” He wiggles them in the air, making the elf snicker. 

“Sure, go for it.” Taako pulls off his blouse, tossing it on the floor before rolling over on his stomach. Kravitz straddles his hips, rubs the oil  (a warming one, to correct for the chilly skin) on his palms and kneads his fingers gently and precisely across Taako’s back.  

Taako sighs, though all the tension stays put. Kravitz focuses on his task, on the shape of the man beneath him, humming a concerto as he does. 

“So you gonna ask me stuff or…”

“I’m going to massage you. You can talk about whatever you want.”

“What if I wanna talk about what Dust got up to today?”

“That’s fine.” 

Taako huffs, muttering something about difficult birds into the pillow. Kravitz manages to get the knot in his right shoulder loose. 

“....It’s not even about the audience. Not this time, anyway.”

Kravtiz makes a quiet noise to acknowledge that he’s listening. 

“It’s, ugh, it’s Sazed.”

This time Kravitz has to keep his own shoulders from tensing; there are strict instructions that reapers are not allowed to punish souls for personal reasons. But if Sazed ever comes his way in the afterlife, the man is in for an earful (and will still be better off than if he runs into Lup. Goddess help him if that happens). 

“Just...I think of myself as good with people. Everybody loves Taako, y’know but--hoo, yeah, there’s a spot--how the fuck am I supposed to believe that when I misjudged someone so badly?”

“Love, if you gesture like that it makes it hard to rub your arms.”

“Look, bone boy, you wanted me to open up, so I’m opening. I got the wrong read on someone I thought I could trust and forty people died, because he wanted to either frame me or kill me or both and I just, just” the next inhale is shuddery, “what if that happens again?”

“For starters, you have me, and I’m a decent judge of character.” He circles his thumbs along either side of the elf’s spine, gets a moan that’s sweeter than any song to his ears, “and it’s not just me. You have Magnus, and Merle, and Angus, who I’m quite certain will run a thorough background check on anyone he suspects of potentially being a threat to you. And that’s before we even get to Lup.”

“You-” Taako yawns, nestles his head down into a pillow, “you going somewhere with that?”

“When you were making the show, it was mostly you and Sazed. There was no one else who cared about you who could give you perspective, warn you if he seemed twitchy or you seemed too unkind to him. It’s not like that at all now. You have many people who care about you Taako, present company included.” He leans forward, kissing the back of the elf’s head.

“You do more than care, my man” the tease is back in voice, and Kravtiz is relieved to hear it. Narrow hips twitch under him as Taako adds, “could do more than that right now if you wan-” another yawn and Kravitz laughs, rolling off of him. 

“Raincheck until the morning, my dove? I do like when you go melty and relaxed when we fuck, but you look ready to drop.”

“Fiiiiiiiiiiine.” Taako huffs, crawls, and flops his way under the covers while the reaper washes his hands. Hops under the covers himself, Taako glomming onto him as soon as he’s within range. He switches off the light, cuddling the elf close. 

“Hey, bones?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Thank you. For, um, for listening. And for not pushing it.”

Kravitz brushes golden wisps of hair aside, kissing him tenderly and as long as he can before the elf needs to pull away.

“Any time, dove. Any time.”