#dudes and just REFUSING to let everything and anything try to keep them apart. even death.

[loverboybrightsideghost]

happy pride to midnighter and apollo from DC comics :]

this is midnighter's response when the devil tells him basically "i am the embodiment of every evil on earth, all the nastiest most abhorrent things. what could you possibly have to fight me with?"

and

[threepandas]

Bad End: Soldier A

I'm pretty sure you know the story. Everybody does. Chosen Hero, Demon King, they fight, save the day, yada yada. Everybody supposedly lives happily ever after. Everything sunshine and roses. Puppies and farting rainbows. But... but it's NOT.

It's really fucking NOT.

I used to love reading stories like that. They were escapism. Grand adventures in a terrible, grey, slowly crushing hellscape of a world. But... but, FUCK. At least there weren't drauger! No demon wolves or skeleton soldiers! Or the FUCKING little flying bastards. God. I HATE those ones the most.

They have sharp, needle-y little claws and teeth like a SHARK fucked a TREE THRESHER. And they scream. Just... yowl and yowl in this ear splitting high pitch like they're trying to DEAFEN you ON TOP of trying to rip you apart.

That life was peaceful.

I was a fool to wish for anything else.

I am not the Chosen One. I'm not even a supporting character. I remember this bullshit little yarn, and I? Am NO WHERE fucking in it. I am just... just some rando, in this struggle of demons and Gods. The child of Some Dude. We... we had chickens. Fat, happy, lil hens.

I remember being ENTRANCED. I had lived all my life, before, in suburban sprawl. So chickens? Strutting around and chasing bugs? Tiny me was hypnotized.

It saved my life.

I half wish it didn't, some days.

That I died, sudden and without the chance to truely comprehend, along side my family. That my neighbors eldest hadn't seen me by the coop. Grabbed me desperately as he ran for his life. Our entire FUCKING village...

There were six survivors.

I was one of them.

And it's... it's all just? FLAVOR TEXT for the Chosen One's tale of Glory. A reason for why she's so NEEDED. So BELOVED. Look how AWESOME she is! Saintess, because when are they NOT? Hero, because it's all about HER. A god damned LOVE STORY thrown in, because THAT'S important, while people are suffering! Dying!

Are? You? KIDDING ME!?

Legends speak of a "Hero's Party". I know damn well it's true. That it WILL succeed. But FUCK that. FUCK waiting for her to "be ready"! To gather allies and turn from some sheltered little rose, into the warrior we ACTUALLY NEED. It's my world too. I was the one who had to help dig out survivors! Tend to the wounded! Fight off swarms! Hold back the dead!

I...! I was the one who had to LOOK PEOPLE IN THE EYE and... AND-!

B-Because sometimes? SOMETIMES?! Those bites DON'T HEAL. Can't heal! They are filled with so much demonic power, that the only thing they CAN do is corrupt. Fester. Poison. Sometimes you're already DEAD and nothing short of the oh so precious SAINTESS could possibly save you.

But she's not HERE... is she?

So you have a choice.

If you're lucky? It's JUST a limb. A chunk of flesh. But more often then not... well... The lucky ones have time to say goodbye. The unlucky ones get to be twisted and used against their friends. Their family's. And if you care. If you CARE AT ALL? You put them down before that happens.

Because they wouldn't want that.

It... it feeds a HATE in me. An ANGER.

No, that's not right... it's more like? It feeds...

A RAGE.

An ugly, burning thing. That's hollowed out my chest. Wrapped around my bones. Fueled by the memories of every innocent I failed to save. By the fear and the suffering, that just keeps dragging on and on and ON. An endless slog that seems designed to break men down. Destroy us.

I feel like it's killing the humanity in me. The kindness I once had. Like I am burning away everything but purpose. And will have nothing left when I am done. IF I am ever done. It... it used to scare me.

Now I am to angry, too tired, to be afraid.

Let me die. I do not CARE. So long as I TAKE THEM WITH ME. Burn them ALL. My brothers in arms, my sisters of war, those that fight and fight and FIGHT? They feel the same. We didn't fucking WAIT. Refused to watch the slaughter. Gaining ground only to lose it, losing ground only to claw it back.

Holding the line.

We can't actually KILL him. We know that. Only the Saintess can actually fucking END this nightmare. But his monsters? Those still fall too steel. And if we are to die regardless, why NOT in defense of our homes?

We've managed to push a path, deep into the Demonic lands. A spear point to stab the heart of HIS damned empire. We... we can hold it. MUST hold it. At all costs. For that flimsy, weak willed, half trained NITWIT of a child. So when she FINALLY gets off her ass and stops making goo-goo eyes at her trainers? She can come and finish the job.

Then get crowned queen of forever or something.

I don't know, I don't CARE. I'm going to buy some damn chickens. Fill a yard with them. Honor my parents and be the best damn farmer this world has ever SEEN.

Another crash against our shields. Screams as someone's arm breaks. As someone else is savaged through a crack in our barrier, as something probably gives. I slam my spear forward. Vital point. Vital point. Ignore the strain. The way your arm feels like a giant is stepping on it. Like some is trying to rip the shield from your grip. Hold... HOOOOLD!

Go for the eyes. Aim for the throat. Kidneys. Arteries, arteries, heart! The spear is wretched from my grip. I shout for another. Reach blindly, trusting my countrymen. I feel the grip of another one pressed into my hand. I slam my spear forward.

The fight goes on.

For hours.

It was some sort of ape-bear chimera things this time. But bigger and with spikes. No ones quite sure if they're in the "fucked up monstrosities" book yet. I'M certainly too dead on my feet to check. I sit an eat some fucking soup. Mmmmm, rations soup. Technically edible! My favorite flavor.

In the distance, sits the Demon King's fancy ass doom castle.

Any closer? And HE might be inspired to actually "deal" with us. I can't wait for the day it-An explosion of noise from the command tent. Everyone's heads whip around to stare, alarmed. But... but that didn't sound... BAD shouting. It takes us a long, long moment. It had honestly been YEARS since some of us had HEARD such a noise. But...?

W...was that?

Excitement?

I passed off my soup to a newbie. He honestly needed it more anyway. Told him to eat. Then got up and headed for command. Something was happening. As I got close, the flap was all but ripped open. A commander, actually? Smiling!? What the fresh hell?

A commander looking for someone. Spots me. Waves me over and in. I jog over. The tent is practically HUMMING with excitement. And there, on the tabke with the war map? Is an old, OLD dagger. Very... magical girl, in design. Flourishes, sparkling, and lovely dispite being what must be... what, centuries old? Worn to hell and back? What IS that?

It's the weapon of a previous Chosen One.

A Holy Blade.

Holy Shit. HOW. Where?! Where AND HOW!? I thought the royal family snapped all those fuckers up too show off! If not them, the Temple! I'm met with seni-hysterical laughs of disbelief.

A PRIEST stole it.

Nearly DIED doing so. Temple's probably FURIOUS. Gonna come to get it BACK, most likely. We're gonna have to move FAST. We're gonna only get ONE chance at this. I nod. Ready for whatever command needs me to do. Hold off some holy knights? Punch a priest? I'll get... SUPER excommunicated, but? Fuck it. If it saves lives.

No.

No they need me to wield the blade. I'm sorry?? WHAT.

It's apparently Maiden Locked. Fucking... Maidens Only! Got lucky? No holy weapon for you! Married but a virgin? Weaponless! Oh, fffffuck yooooou, creepy perv deities. There are LIVES ON THE LINE, in this, a GOD DAMNED WAR, and you LOCK the import weapons behind "mint condition pu-"!!!

The commander cuts of my, frankly, VERY understandable rant.

Hands on my shoulders. Looks me in the eyes. Will I Do This? I would have to take the knife and sneak behind enemy lines. Into the demon kings castle. And try to get the jump on him. NO ONE would be able to go after me. Help WOULD NOT be coming. If I fail... that's it. Game over. The demons would have me.

I laugh.

It is... not a cheerful sound. Not like it once was.

Is it even a choice? Of course I am. Frankly? I hope it hurts. I hope it's slow. Hurts every second and feels like eons. That he BURNS from the inside out. I'm gonna make him EAT IT.

Waiting until night would be suicide. They get stronger at night. Can blend in to the shadows. But they're cocky. They won't expect an attack just before that. So twilight is when I'll strike. Afternoon, when I head out. I... I leave my gear behind. Say my goodbyes.

I'm not the Chosen One.

Just some farmer's daughter with a grudge.

It don't think I'll be making it back. Don't really expect to even succeed. But by the gods... I plan to HURT him. Every piece we chip away, is one the soul behind us doesn't have to fight. I do this not for me. But for the child who will never know the FEAR that I did.

I will die so they don't have too.

The castle is dark. Humming with power I can FEEL but can not understand. Grand and sweeping architecture. Great windows that should let in far more light then they do. A blood red carpet upon bone white floors. The walls are black. It... some how merely stepping inside, seems to suck all color but red from the world. All heat.

I see no one here.

But I hear whispers.

I tighten my grip around the weapon. The only thing that feels WARM. These hallways are designed to make you feel small, I can tell at a glance. I refuse to give in. I am a farmer. A soldier. I do not CARE about your damn castle! I dig deep into my memories, keeping to the walls, and try to remember where the hero found her foe.

I trace the path in my head. Cut out the lost wandering as best I can. Right slightly, then forward, I think. If I am wrong, I can double back. Follow the book's path exactly. I move slow. As quite as I can.

Still... I find no one.

No servants, no gaurds, no resistance of any kind. Something like fear sighs like a specter down my spine, cold and vague. Something is not right. I do not let down my gaurd... but the longer it persists? The worse my paranoia grows.

Finally. The throne room. Magnificent beyond measure, in blood red and monochrome. Rare touches of gold glint and catch the eye. Stained glass giving it all a surreal scene from high above. The runner at my feet plush enough to render my foot steps silent. It is red... so very, very red.

The Demon King leans against one fist, resting on his throne, magnificent and beautiful like a statue brought to life. Carved of pale ivory and obsidian. Just as feeling as stone. A monster. Living testament that what's inside counts most of all. For inside him? Is nothing but a void. A malicious PIT.

I will see him dead.

On silent feet, I sneak forward. Only to freeze at the foot of the stairs to his dais, my eyes locked on his face. Horror seeps through me.

An amused smirk.

"Oh don't stop NOW, you're so close." Breaks the silence. Golden eyes open, lazy and entertained. "By all means. Try."

My grip on the dagger felt almost painful, for how hard I was gripping it. He... he wasn't even bothering to move. Didn't even see me as a threat. F..Fine. Fine then! If it was a mistake on his part or NOT, I would TAKE IT. Any chance. Any chance at ALL.

The pressure of that gaze felt immense. But I tilted my head up, put my shoulders back, and moved. One step. Then another. Up the stairs. Onto the dais. Forward, slowly. I paused, just beyond his immediate reach. Not that it was anything like real safety. I stared. Shaking. Knowing I was shaking and unable to stop.

He sat splayed. Reclined and leaning against his fist, robes rich and arranged just so. The very picture of indolent decadence. It was deceptive. I KNEW it was. A trap. But to get too him... I had to step closer. My eyes moved from the splay of his legs back up to his face. His smirk had grown teeth. I... I refused to run. I would finish this.

I stepped forward. Between his long legs, feeling distinctly like I was balanced over a bear trap, and lifted the dagger. I refused to hesitate. Wait to see if he changed his mind. I slammed it forward. Right through his heart. Glaring, as I looked him right in the eyes. The blade HISSED. Like acid meeting stone.

He laughed.

Grin full of unhinged glee, a vice in the shape of a hand clamped around my wrist, and the world SPUN. I slammed against the floor, the Demon King straddling me, at the foot of his thrown. He loomed. Behind him, above me, shown a magnificent window the lit him from behind. Like a halo.

"You didn't even HESITATE. You'd rip my heart out, if you could. Wouldn't you?" He says. Almost an whisper, nearly a groan, filthy with something that terrifies me and shouldn't BE there. "I KNEW I sensed something. KNEW you were out there."

I desperately try to push the knife deeper. Use everything I can to... to just-!

All I want... All I NEED? Is to see it come out the fucking OTHER SIDE. Please. Gods, PLEASE! End this! I'm gritting my teeth. Snarling. This BASTARD. I HATE him! I HATE HIM!

"Ah~ That's it, little one." He groans. Not even bothering to hide that he's apparently getting off on this. I'll kill him. I'll FUCKING KILL HIM! "Good~, that's right. Just like that. Give IN~♡ I'll take SUCH good care of you. I've always wanted a little pet. Focus it all on me. Give it ALL to me~"

My brain feels like it's on fire. My lungs filled with ash and flame. I hate. I hate and hate and HATE! I can't think. Something is... wrong? Wrong! The blade hurts to hold. Like it's rejecting me. No. NO! I HAVE TO KILL HIM! I may not be the Chosen One but-!

It finally becomes too much. The pain of holding the blade out weighing my hate. It's like ACID. My hand spasming away like I was trying to touch a hot stove. My palm is an ugly red. Wounded.

In one fluid movement, my wrist is released, the blade pulled free, tossed aside, and my wrist recaptured, before I can claw his fucking eyes out. I grit my teeth. Fangs grinding togeth-... wait.... what?

I stare at my hand.

At the black talon like nails where normal nails were, just this morning. And feel... horror. My... my teeth feel weird. My eyes hurt. Sides of my head too.

"Got you~"

He throws his head back in a triumphant laugh. The sound echoing like a nightmare. Even as I watch, the pigment of my skin is changing. Draining away to something even. Something almost too pale. Unnatural.

"I'm so glad you've decided to join me, darling." My hands are slammed down on either side of my head. His face inches from my. Eyes burning with something terrible. "I haven't had a bride in SO long~ following your progress has been FASCINATING. And now! Oh little thing, I get to KEEP you all to myself. Make you GOOD for me. Learn every inch of you. You should be excited, darling~"

"I'm going to make you a Queen."

[socksenjoyer]

ok haha life series au idea time let's go bc i need to get this off my chest. I love being cringe 💞🌸✨

SO victorian/maybe georgian era life series AU. Supernatural shit is common but shunned from everyday life. Grian is the son of a rich family who vanished in.... mysterious. circumstances. So now he has the entire gigantic house to himself. His friends -- the life series members -- are mostly supernatural entities but Grian himself seems (mostly) human. They often visit him and vice versa, everything seems nice.

He's even visited his mysterious shut-in neighbour, who is a vampire trying to hide it VERY badly. Mumbo's only companion for the last few years has been his robot, Grumbot. Mumbo struggles to communicate with anyone because he's exceedingly anxious and incredibly ominous, but Grian has decided he WILL be friends with this strange man, so they are friends. Grian introduces him to the wonderful possibility of just asking for (animal) blood, instead of stealing it like a fricking chupacabras. Grumbot goes to live at Grian's house, because at this point Mumbo is just living with Grian. It's good. Everything's good.

Then, Grian barricades himself in his room, completely covering the window and absorbing himself in some kind of work. He refuses for any lights to be turned on in his vicinity (too bright) and instructs Mumbo to post a number of letters, one to each of the life series members. Each member tells the member that they need urgently to go to Grian's house NOW. Mumbo posts these letters, along with his own postscript explaining that Grian is obviously very sick, everyone starts to make their way there.

People start to arrive (scary!!) and chaos ensues as both the area Grian wants to be kept dark and the number of people increases. Since Mumbo can see fairly well in the dark, he's the only one who can get down the hallway to communicate with Grian. A few people become suspicious, as they don't know Mumbo (only Scar really knows him and impulse and skizz have at least met him) and he could easily be lying about what Grian's saying. One person, Gem, is exceedingly suspicious. She does NOT like Mumbo's general vibe (hmmm gem i wonder why gem) (ok in all seriousness she used to be a monster hunter, particularly a vampire hunter. She doesn't tell anyone this, but her old prejudices kinda start to show through). Everyone arrives but Pearl and Lizzie because Pearl is literally countries away and Lizzie is doing secret things...

One night, Grian tells Mumbo something, and tells him strictly not to tell anyone else. Turns out Grian is not Grian! He is in fact an eldritch horror that has been inhabiting Grian's body for the past *checks notes* fifteen years! This doesn't really change anything between them, since Mumbo and most of the lifers have never known the 'real' Grian, and it also doesn't answer any of anyone's burning questions, such as:

-why are we in this house

-what's the deal with the eyes? there's so many eyes, spinning and turning, always seeming to stare in one direction, maybe at me. i see them when i close my eyes now they're so bright i cannot think i cannot breathe all i can do is stare like a deer in headlights oh god oh god

-how do i know what a deer in headlights is? And why does Ren keep calling people 'dude'?

-What's up with Grian?

We don't out people in this house, so Mumbo doesn't tell anyone.

Only a day later, when everyone's asleep (apart from Mumbo insomnia gang💯🔥💯🔥 also he craves human flesh or whatever)(by extension Gem is also awake because hmm suspicious......) humongous hands appear, unable to be destroyed or escaped, taking people out of their beds and seemingly into the floorboards. It seems Grian is controlling them, but he can't be reached and didn't seem aware of what he's doing. It's only when Scar says something very quiet into Grian's ear that they both get dragged down No Childrenstyle and the hands stop. The only people remaining are Gem and Mumbo, thoroughly shaken up by the whole experience.

The goal then becomes to get along long enough to figure out what's going on and save everyone. First thing they do is send letters to Pearl and Lizzie, letting them know what's happening and maybe to hurry. They also send letters to Cub (knows stuff about magic) and Doc (knows stuff about interdimensional shenanigans) in the hopes they can help. Cub is very busy and says he might not be able to make it for a while but everyone else gets their ass in gear to come help.

Gym & mambo become tentative friends. They start to try and decipher Grian's notes, which appear to have been written in a completely unknown language. While they do this, something begins to happen around the outside of the house. Stone statues begin to appear, in a clockwise manner, completely buried apart from their arms, which poke out of the surface. Their first thought is to dig the statues up to see the rest of them, and doing this prompts the worst headaches and hallucinations (so many eyes and blinding lights blinding me blinding me in glory) either of them have ever felt. So we will not dig them up. They work out that the hands may well belong to the other lifers, since there's space for 14 people. Unbeknownst to mumbert and germ, the hands are also appearing in order of player deaths.

At about the same time Scott's statue appears, about a week after the disappearances, Mumbo mentions that Grian revealed something about himself near the end (the eldritch horror stuff). Gem is convinced this could be important and a little pissed that Mumbo is withholding crucial information. He refuses to tell her because it's not his secret to tell, and he doesn't think it would help them anyway. This entire argument devolves into Gem drawing her sword (which is so heavily consecrated that Mumbo physically recoils at being in the same room as the bare blade) and maybe accusing Mumbo of projecting his own fear of discovery onto Grian (Worth mentioning that Mumbo hasn't told her that he's a vampire but the fact he has to step away from the sword as if it were blasting the full concentrated power of the sun was kinda the last straw in figuring it out). Mumbo also gets incredibly pissed and asks why she even has that sword because the average person isn't carrying that shit around. So Gem admits she used to hunt vampires. Everyone gets to be furious until they sit down and have a nice talk HAHA ONLY JOKING THEY STEW ABOUT THIS SILENTLY AND ARE ONLY GETTING ALONG BECAUSE THE CIRCUMSTANCES DEMAND IT!! THEY ARE SILENTLY PISSED AT EACH OTHER FOR FUCKING CHAPTERS BABY.

Around the time Impulse's hands show up, Lizzie arrives. She is absolutely fucking going through it. She confirms that the hands of Joel are his because she recognises his ring. After the 'sorry your husband got buried and turned into a statue' talk she begins to help shed light on the language Grian has been writing in (it's standard galactic but with the added fun little twist that it is not encoding something in english but a whole new language only spoken by.....watchers!!! muahaha).

Bdubs' hands show up. Everyone is tense and upset and sleep deprived, and they've hit a wall. Lizzie can tell some shit has gone on between Morbius and Gort and suggests they maybe...talk to each other about it? They're both about to admit that they don't want to stay mad at each other but WAIT all of a sudden hold on. There's hands outside. That's Scar and Grian's hands and they're POETICALLY TANGLED TOGETHER, NO CHILDRENSTYLE? They both rush outside because that means everyone's here, so what now? Mumbo puts his hand on top of theirs and before Gem can warn him he is grabbed and pulled into the ground. Panicked, Gem goes to find Lizzie who is also nowhere to be seen, and in a dramatic final girl moment she fucking figures it all out OH MY GOD IT ALL MAKES SENSE AND THEN GEM ALSO IS TAKEN BY THE HANDS ANNNNND SCENE

Doc arrives at the house finding it completely empty, apart from Grumbot, who powered off a while ago because there was nobody left in the house. Doc powers Grumbot on to find answers, which is where we get a recount of the events from (Grumbot's been here.... the whole time!).

So yeah. I might end up writing this or comic-ing it or whatever. If anyone wants to use my idea w/credit please go ahead i would actually pledge my soul to you if you did that. Just you guys wait until you hear about the sleepover demon summoning au.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball GT 60

✨GT Stands For Gestalt Troll✨

✨"Good" "Ideas", Poorly Executed✨

All right, so it’s finally time for Super Saiyan 4 Gogeta.  This might very well be the most popular thing to come out of GT, and they waited until episode 60 of 64 to do it.  This guy is a guarenteed crowd-pleaser.  People love Fusion and they love Gogeta and they love Super Saiyan 4.  All this shit is awesome and good, but GT only gives us one episode with this dude, and five episodes with Doltaki.  Let that sink in for a moment.

Why do people love SSJ4 Gogeta? Simple: He’s the biggest, baddest cat in the whole franchise. Maybe Vegito Blue or Gogeta Blue are in his league, but he predates them both by about 20 years.  Omega Shenron has been eating everyone’s lunch, and he’s the final boss of GT, which made him the de facto final boss of the whole franchise until Beerus showed up in 2013.  Gogeta 4 shows up and picks Omega apart like he’s nothing. 

This whole Dragon Ball thing is a power fantasy.  Anyone who complains about the wishes, or the transformations, or characters being too powerful, they’ve completely missed the point.  It’s like complaining that a haunted house is too spooky, or that a musical has too many songs in it. Characters like Frieza, Cell, Broly, and Gogeta are popular because they get these long sequences where they just go around whippin’ ass and no one can stop them.  And then someone might whip their ass and they get a lot of popularity too. 

And where GT went wrong is that they failed to understand how that power fantasy works.  That’s why they did one episode of SSJ4 Gogeta, and five episodes of Doltaki.  I mean, I could go on, but I think that really says everything you need to know about GT’s priorities. 

Also, GT completely fucked up SSJ4 Gogeta.  They had a cool thing, and they totally blew it.  Let’s discuss how.

So first of all, we need to have Goku and Vegeta do the Fusion Dance to make Gogeta.  Omega Shenron refuses to allow this, even though he basically stood there like an idiot and let Vegeta turn into a Super Saiyan 4.  Apparently he’s finally remembered that he wants to win this fight, and he can’t achieve this by just floating around while his enemies plot against him. 

So Trunks jumps in to hold Omega off, and he does amazingly well, considering he doesn’t even bother going Super Saiyan for this.  Keep in mind that Omega has already beaten up Trunks a couple of times earlier.  Like, only one hit each time, but Omega’s supposed to be insanely powerful, so that should be enough to take Trunks out of the fight for good.

Then Bulma shoots her Blutz Wave Tank at Omega, which is completely dumb, because I’m pretty sure Blutz Waves would have no effect on Omega.  Maybe she was trying to hit Trunks and turn him into a Super Saiyan 4.  Seriously, why didn’t she try that?  Anyway, Omega takes out her tank, and she’s more furious that he didn’t warn her that he was going to fire back. 

Then Gohan and Goten try to hold off Omega, and they get creamed, and then Trunks jumps in again, and he actually drives Omega back for a decent amount of time.  How the hell is he pulling this off?  See, this is what GT Logic is all about.  The whole premise here is that nothing short of a Super Saiyan 4 can do anything against Omega Shenron, but they need the supporting characters to jump in anyway, so we end up with this dumb paradox where Trunks can do just as well against Omega in base form as Goku was going at maximum power. 

Meanwhile, Goku’s just watching this like a dumbass, and Vegeta asks him what he’s waiting for.  When the characters are complaining about the plot, you know something’s gone terribly wrong. 

So they finally go through with it, and Gogeta appears and Omega can’t even get near the guy without getting hurt, and everyone’s thrilled.  Pan is especially excited, because she’s never even heard of this technique before, so this is the first time she’s seen it in action.  Then Uub finally comes back from getting blasted in the face in Episode 58.  Well, he’s selling his shoulder instead of his face, but you get the idea.  At least Uub is more professional than Goten, Gohan, and Trunks.  Each of them have gotten worked over by Omega Shenron and they keep acting like they’re completely fresh.

So Uub suggests that one of them fuse with him, and they all look at each other like dopes.  Then Gohan says they need to heal Uub’s arm first.  Okay, yeah, that’s a good point.  He probably can’t do the Fusion dance correctly with a bad wing, but it doesn’t address his point.   Goten and Trunks can do fusion right now.  They could have done it several episodes ago.  They could have done it during the Baby Saga.  Uub is literally asking them why they don’t use that thing they know that makes them stronger and helps them win, and they’re all gawking at each other like Uub has a second head.

It would have been funnier if Trunks had said “Sorry, Uub, but this is GT.  We have to fight in base form for no reason at all.  Just trust me.”

Let’s get back to the fight.  Yeah, Omega can’t do shit against Gogeta.  Cool.  Here’s the problem.

Nobody, and I mean nobody, in this show is interested in winning a fight.  When Omega has the advantage he just toys with his opponents and gloats.  Now Gogeta has the advantage, and he starts toying with Omega.  He makes four copies of himself and they all shoot Kamehameha’s at him, but instead of ki blasts they shoot confetti. 

Then Omega gets flustered and prepares his ultimate attack, the Revenge Death Ball.  No, wait, it’s the Electric Eclipse Bomb!  No wait, I’m sorry, it’s the Minus Energy Power Ball.  I don��t know why I keep getting these techniques confused.  They’re each so distinctive and innovative. 

So Gogeta just waits until the last second and kicks the thing up into outer space.  Just like Vegito did when he repelled a big planet-busting ki ball launched by Super Buu.  This whole fight is just Vegito vs. Super Buu, only shorter and dumber and without Vegito’s rationale for toying with his opponent.  Vegito was baiting Buu in order to get absorbed so he could rescue Piccolo and the boys.  Gogeta is screwing around because... well, that’s what Vegito did in DBZ, so I guess Toei thought it would be okay if they did it too. 

So one side-effect of this is that Gogeta’s deflection somehow dismantles the minus energy field surrounding the Earth.  Up to now, it’s been cutting off the Earth from the rest of the universe, and not even the Supreme Kai could monitor what was happening there. 

Gogeta explains that when he kicked the Power Ball, he used his ki to convert the entire thing into Plus Energy, which then neutralized the Minus Energy field around the Earth.  This is pretty dumb, but it’s kind of like how Movie 12 Gogeta just somehow knew how to turn Janemba back into a regular oni kid, so I’ll allow it.

What I won’t allow is the part where Omega stupidly repeats everything Gogeta just said, almost word for word, like he still hasn’t grasped what happened.  It’s not that complicated, and Omega isn’t this dumb.  Toei just stuck this in here to pad out the episode. 

So then Gogeta blows Omega Shenron away with the Big Bang Kamehameha, and you’d think that would be the end of the big dope...

I mean, he explodes and the Dragon Balls get scattered around, so it sure looks like he’s toast, but I know better, because the last three episodes have featured false finishes like this, and he always comes back. 

And there he is, a little singed, but basically unharmed.  Seriously, this guy took a Big Bang Kamehameha from Super Gogeta 4, right in the face, and he’s not even hurt.  But somehow Trunks was keeping him busy at the start of the episode?  GT Logic is one hell of a drug.

So Gogeta just sets up another one, which is a great opportunity for Toei to reuse the animation cells.  Seriously, though, if I were Gogeta, I’d be a little nervous about this.  If he survived one of these things, maybe Gogeta’s not strong enough to beat him. 

Actually, maybe that’s the whole deal with Omega Shenron.  He’s strong, sure, but he’s not that much stronger than Goku.  It’s just that he’s so damn tough that he can take almost any offense and shrug it off.  That might explain why he never kills the others with his attacks.  He has to save his offensive power for when it really counts, because he doesn’t have that much to work with.  His main strategy is waiting for Goku to wear himself out in a vain attempt to kill him.

Well, in this case, it totally works.  Gogeta comes apart before he can deliver the final blow.  Goku speculates it’s because all that Super Saiyan 4 power burned out the fusion time.  That’s actually a legitimate point, since Gotenks could only hold Super Saiyan 3 for five minutes before unfusing.  From what we’ve seen, SSJ4 seems to be much more stable than SSJ3, but maybe that doesn’t matter when it comes to Fusion. 

Anyway, the one bright side to all of this is that Omega has lost the other six Dragon Balls, so now he’s back to being plain old Syn Shenron, and Goku or Vegeta can beat him solo when he’s like this.

Except, no, because Syn just uses the exact same trick he used before and swallows all the Dragon Balls again. And the good guys just stand there like idiots and let this happen...

... Except for the four-star ball, which Goku manages to grab before it can fly into Omega’s mouth.  Well, that’s something at least, but it would have been more interesting if they had intercepted a few more Dragon Balls.  Let Vegeta take on Omega with only three Dragon Balls and see how well that goes.

So there you have it.  Hopefully I don’t have to explain how Super Saiyan 4 Gogeta doesn’t count as an idea.  It’s just a combination of three pre-existing ideas: Oozaru, Super Saiyan, and the Fusion Technique.  That doesn’t make it a bad thing.  They were right to put SSJ4 Gogeta in this show.  It’s a great call, just don’t try to tell me it was some brilliant innovation that GT came up with. 

There’s nothing fresh in any of this.  Gogeta 4 vs. Omega Shenron is just Vegito vs. Super Buu.  Only the jokes don’t work and the techniques are dumber and Omega doesn’t do anything cool to put up a fight.  He just keeps making idle threats and getting his ass kicked.

✨Is This Episode Worse than "The Roaming Lake"?✨ 

You can defend this episode by saying “Well, at least they gave us Gogeta”, but that’s kind of the point I’m trying to make here.  Like I said from the beginning, Dragon Ball is a power fantasy.  That’s the appeal to it.  And GT keeps screwing up that appeal by giving the audience a taste of power fantasy, only to snatch it away. 

Super Saiyan 4 is a great example of this.  It’s supposed to be this ultimate power, but Goku keeps getting his ass kicked whenever he uses it.  He’s constantly talking a big game, only to get wrecked, and then he has to ask his kids to give him their power so he can finish the fight.  Now he’s got Vegeta backing him up and that still isn’t enough, so they fuse into Gogeta and that doesn’t work either. 

GT loves to say “no”.  Can we see more of Bulla, Goten, and Marron? No.  Can we see Pan turn Super Saiyan?  No.  Can we check out adult Gotenks?  No. Can Vegeta be a Super Saiyan 4?  Well, okay, but only long enough to fuse into Gogeta.   Oh, well can we see Gogeta win a fight? No.

The thing is, in a story arc like this, you could at least have some fun rooting for the villain, since he seems to be cleaning house so far.  That’s how I found a favorite character in Cell, and I think that’s why a lot of fans enjoy Broly and Majin Buu.  The thing is, Omega Shenron isn’t really getting that kind of dominant portrayal.  I mean, sure, he’s having his way with the heroes.  Nobody can stop him, but he’s so damn lethargic about it all.  Also, it doesn’t matter much that he survived a Big Bang Kamehameha to the face when he keeps getting flustered by guys like Trunks and Uub.  He can’t even kill Mr. Satan, so how big a badass can he be?  Omega Shenron keeps mocking all the “small fries”, but he hasn’t been able to do anything about them.  You know what Majin Buu did to all of Goku’s little pals?  He ate and killed them!  Omega just doesn’t have that same energy to him.

So what you end up with his is this lackluster final battle where nothing ever seems to get done.  We’ve seen a lot of big power-ups and transformations here.  Limit Breaker Super Saiyan 4 Goku.  Syn Sheron becomes Omega Shenron. Vegeta turns SSJ4 and fuses with Goku. Goku even pulled off a Super Dragon Fist in the previous episode.  But none of it matters. This is part four of a seven-episode battle, and it feels like we’re right back to square one.  ‘

“The Roaming Lake” may not have the power scaling of this episode, but at least when Goku blows up an indestructible dam, it stays destroyed.  TRL wins again, 61-0.

✨Positivity Page✨

Well, not much got accomplished in this episode, but at least Gogeta got right of that shitty effect in the sky.  That makes the show a lot less ugly to watch, and we can all appreciate... wait a minute.   Is that the Statue of Liberty? 

✨The Blade Braxton Memorial Haiku*✨

YOU MANIACS!  YOU

BLEW IT UP!  AH, DAMN YOU!  GOD

DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!

[aerospectrum]

“Can you eat this?” Cas held up the plate when Sam was seated in the comfy couch beside him; the way Sam immediately rolled his eyes grabbed his attention just the same.

“How have you not managed to finish even two pancakes and an egg dude? You haven’t even tried the bacon, Cas.”

“because everything hurts that’s why!” Cas replied in quiet exasperation, keeping his voice low so the other two wouldn’t hear from the kitchen. “My skin feels like it’s on fire but I feel like I’m buried in ice-.” The fever. “My head aches, my throat hurts, my tongue feels weird, my lips are sore, my chest feels like everytime I breath I’m being peeled apart like a grape— I want to throw up and each time I pick this pancake up the chocolate chips are there haunting me and—.”

“Ok, ok, alright, I get it, Cas. I get it, settle down.” Sam frowned at all the things Cas ranted about. He couldn’t tell if the now human angel was exaggerating, serious, or just trying to finagle more pain meds too early on from him though. But the way he described feeling on fire while being caked in ice, that one tracked. A fever would be hard even for Sam to describe, but one look at Cas made it easy to tell he wasn’t quite “right” yet. “You owe me, Cas. I’m talking when we get your grace back you answer before I even finish- no before I even start a prayer to you. You listen to my research, you don’t side with Dean; you have to listen to me from now one.” He scarfed Castiel’s plate down for him; once again making it look like he’d eaten it instead.

Dean leaned his weight against Madison when she’d captured him between her legs and pulled him close. Temptation rose and he planted firm hands on her thighs, but regardless of his desperation to act like an animal again… he reluctantly heard her out. “There’s no way to ward you without Cas having his power- he practically carved “mine mine mine, mine I’ll kill you if you touch, mine mine mine.” Into Sam and I’s ribcage a few years back… we’re hidden from everyone but… you’re not. And he’s… he doesn’t lose much; but obviously… he has his days.” Dean huffed a sigh. “I’ll get his blade for you guys… do not fucking dilly dally at the store, it’s ice cream and that’s it.” The embarrassment that flooded his features at the phrase was unavoidable and inescapable, but Dean pulled away before she could tease him. Green eyes followed the voice of her body when she returned to the living room.

for the first time in a long time, color seemed to spark against the washed out blue in Cas’ eyes when Madison came back with the promise of ice cream. He looked between Sam and Dean and her for a long time then pushed the blanket off himself and piled it on the couch. He made sure not to say anything about eating- well, he nodded… then caved. “It was good I liked it once I gave it a shot… I.. don’t think I mind the chocolate chips.” Two convincing lies in one?! The Winchesters were really rubbing off on him.

In the car Cas sat with the hot air blowing on him even if his skin was like a furnace already, he had his hands pressed between his thighs and seemed to shiver regardless of the warmth blowing on him and even though his head kept bobbing back and forth with exhaustion sinking its claws in Cas refused to let himself sleep. “Can I pick whatever kind I want?” He asked, curious to know what the frozen aisle of the grocery store would feel like and look like. “Dean said we can get whatever you want but I’m not allowed to spend all this by the way…” he took out three twenty dollar bills half crumpled and showed them to Madison. “What kind are you going to get?”

Despite Cas pouting & trying to plead his argument she knew she had to be firm. “No it’s not food angel cakes.” She sighed & leaned her head on the couch. She could see cas was upset. She could hear the frustration in his tone & it made her feel really bad. Maybe this could’ve been avoided if she had gotten him the ice cream the first time she had offered it to him.

When she walked away, she felt eyes on her, but she didn’t know if it was cas or dean. Once back in the living room, she frowned to Dean. She did understand the sigils being tampered w/ wasn’t good… but… she promised. “Dean,” she said softly, there was more to stay but when he began walking towards the kitchen, she followed.

Immediately she noticed how Sam scrambled out of the room like they were the plague. She rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything for fear of making things more awkward than they needed to be. She only managed, “you don’t have to” but he was gone, “go”.

Now face to face w/ Dean again, alone in the kitchen, she couldn’t help but wanna lean into him & explore him one more time. But he had expressed his concern & Madison couldn’t only frown. “Dean, he’s literally on the brink of running away again. Look at his face, he’s upset.” She gestured toward him w/ her head then backed up to & pushed herself up on the counter so she could sit. A brief thought crossed her mind, this was their position. But she quickly shook away that thought. “I threw the game & he got denied ice cream, if I do it again after I promised him he would get some, he will foresure do more than run off down the street.”

She sighed, “I know he’s your bestfriend & I know you probably know him better… but please, please let me take him. It will be quick.” She promised. “Isn’t there some sort of ward or something that will hide us? Just for like 30 minutes.” Her eyes softened & she gave Dean her best pouty lip. “Please? It won’t be too long. If you come w/ us, we will be even safer…”

Dean wasn’t too far from reach so her hand extended, finger tips barely catching fabric & pulled him in. She forced him between her legs again & cupped his face in both hands. “I know you care about it, if you want him to trust you guys, you gotta keep your promises…”

Deans response had Madison questioning if she was doing the right thing. Nevertheless she pushed him back a bit & hopped off the counter strolling back into the living room. Cas had finished eating & she smiled. “You ate.” She smiled, “I’m so happy you did…. Okay, if we get ice cream. We have to go fast… okay?”

[eldritch-spouse]

Just read that one post on how to REALLY escape from Breg and YIKES the hurt on that one. Like, the dudes getting captured and taken back to the same hell hole he escaped from begging and pleading for YOUR help only to see you just. There. With the other staff. LIKE MY GOD. Dude when i read that i was like YIKESS. That musta stung. Bad.

Like I remember reading another post bout what would happen if Breg was recaptured and how he literally killed himself while thinking of you and how happy he was that he met you and managed to live his life. I’m gonna give props to you cause you ended that post PERFECTLY. How in his final moments he’s thinking of how beautiful you are and how lucky that is like thats fucking heartbreaking.

So imagine when he was getting recaptured, he fucking sees you just talkin to the staff so calmly and the real choker is how you look so… relieved? Like I can’t say this enough but OUCH. Can’t tell what his reaction would be but it’s hurt. A lot of hurt. Like I’m sure he’d be too sad and heartbroken and betrayed to be angry. Maybe angry later, But now? In disbelief and is absolutely devastated. Like all this time you were lying, faking everything? When he thought you loved him when really you just put up with him hoping for the day to get rid of him.

That’s so fucken awful. Cause like ya said (i think) he’d rather die than go back to the facility. So no doubt he’s gonna off himself again all while thinking of what you did. Like god that’s a real stinker. Can’t imagine how that felt. Mans gonna be a whole explosion of emotions, Too overwhelmed to handle it all because he’s just thinking of you you you.

Overall, Props to you. You really know how to write some angsty shit. Like genuinely you write really well done! Because truthfully I’ve been binging to Yer Breg tag and i loved him and all your posts! Can’t wait to get a start on your other works, Got my eye on Morell so i might check him out later lol

Ah, this post and this one.

TW: Heavy angst, mentions of murder and suicide.

It would take so long for him to process it, it really would. One moment, his brain starts trying to close that bubble all over again, trying to erase these last few parts of your relationship and pretend that you really did love him, that what you had was real and beautiful- But then, then this wave of endless fury just consumes him, and the need to kill you keeps rising.

If Breg ever got his hands on you, it would be the ugliest scene imaginable. He's sick over the fact that he can't stop craving your love yet knows what a piece of shit you really are- There's a good chance he'd fuck you to death. Fortunately, he's never making it out again. Count your blessings. And thanks to his initial outbursts courtesy of your betrayal, he'll probably remain restrained all the time, so he can't hurt anyone including himself. Suicide isn't an option anymore.

Not without his teeth, with a stump of tail, declawed and perpetually chained to the wall even inside his own isolated cell. Swallowing your own tongue is a lot harder than it looks, you know? His days are spent wailing, haunted by visions of you even as those hellish fucking pumps drain his cocks for hours at a time. If he had the opportunity to see the other groups of captive breeders, subject M197 would let himself fall to the floor and wait for them to viciously tear him apart, but he knows he'll never be given that mercy.

Even if Breg has dreams of dragging your open skull through miles of asphalt-

At the end of the day, he knows he'll do anything if it meant having you back, you finally accepting him. Everyday his body collects new scars and deformities from his futile attempts at fighting back, his sanity peels apart like rotten wallpaper, and he knows that if you didn't love him then you'll never love him now... But it's the only thing he sees when he spaces out anyway.

Because his brain won't move on, refuses to. Delusion has always been his cope, why would this be any different?

[Thenk! It's always been easier for me to write angst than fluff, I like keeping things dark :7. Morell is one of my favorites, hope you like that nutty fuck.]

[redrobin-detective]

because I could not stop for death

because I could not stop for death / he kindly stopped for me / the carriage held but just ourselves / and immortality ~ Emily Dickinson

Danny Fenton was dying, properly this time.

Somehow, in the back of his head and in his worst nightmares, he knew it would end this way: bleeding on the floor of his parents’ lab where it had all began. He was so hot he felt like his skin was on fire, blood and ectoplasm were dripping all over him and his lungs and heart were working overtime to try in vain to keep him alive a moment longer. He’d imagined at the time that there would be more screaming but death, in the end, was turning out to be a quiet little affair. A lonely table set for one.

“Danny, Danny come on, you-you gotta slow down your breathing, just relax, for me, please,” Sam moaned, more than making up for his lack of noise. She was shaking and touching him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Normally she jumped right into action but she had to know, deep down, that there was nothing she could do. All that was left was to watch her panic and cry, it wasn’t his favorite image. 

“Vlad!” He heard Tucker scream cry into the phone, “please it’s Tucker, Danny’s dying I think. The Fentons had some new invention, something about his core, please we don’t know what to do!” 

Ugh Vlad, he was probably going to be so happy Danny was on his way out. He wasn’t looking much forward to his last images being his archenemy gloating. Tucker hung up and reached down to grasp Danny’s hand so hard it hurt. “Don’t worry dude, Vlad’s coming. He knows so much about you half ghosts that you’ll be fixed up on no time.” Right, Danny was already dead. If calling Vlad, feeling like he did something, helped Tucker move on then he’d deal with it.

Danny tilted his head to the side where Sam’s fingernails were carding through his hair. It was getting harder to see with the blood pouring out of his eyes but he looked at her, and tried to memorize her face. He’d never been able to tell her how much he loved her, that any day spent with her was a blessing. Tucker too, his best bro and a part of his soul. His best friends in the whole wide world, through thick and thin. God, he was going to miss them.

“Glurk,” he said, trying to convey those feeling but the fluids in his mouth and airway made it impossible. “Blerh.”

“Shh shh shh,” Sam soothed, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“Daniel!” He heard Vlad’s voice shriek as he materialized in front of the portal. Sam and Tucker were violently pushed out the way. Danny wanted to be angry at his loved ones being taken away in his final moments but anger was for the living, he barely had the energy to breathe. This death was too long and too short all at once. He made eye contact with Vlad who all at once lost the frantic edge to his tone and and instead knelt on the floor. “Oh my dear boy. What did they do to you?”

“What is going on?” Sam demanded, shoving her way back in. Danny was glad, he could see again like this. “Why aren’t you doing something!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Vlad said in a flat, monotone, he picked up one of Danny’s hands and patted it gently. “His core is dying, it’s like a ghost’s heart. It contains their very essence, it is from which everything they are comes from. If Jack and Maddie somehow disrupted it then there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”

“But he’s human too,” Tucker defended, grabbing Danny’s other hand. His human warm skin burned but the contact felt so good, he twitched his fingers closer to his friend’s. “He-he doesn’t need a core, he’s already got a heart. So, so he doesn’t have powers, we can do normal again.”

“You-” Vlad hissed before taking a calming breath. “The accident that made Daniel like this irreparably altered him. His core was as much a part of keeping him alive as his other organs, without it, his body is shutting down.” Vlad turned down to look Danny in the eye and saw true, genuine grief in those hateful red eyes. 

“I cannot imagine the agony you are going through, I’m so sorry. I’d say it will be over soon but,” a hitch that sounded almost like a sob if it was coming from anyone other than Vlad. “But you’ve hovered on the edge of death for years, son, and you’ve always been such a fighter. You have minutes at most but those minutes are an eternity when you’re suffering.”

Sam and Tucker’s sobbing blended together in the background, Vlad was saying something with a miserable, stunned expression. The swirling of the portal in the background seemed louder than anything, louder than his heart beat pounding and pounding as it ran it’s last race. 

“Daniel, Danny,” he focused his eyes back on Vlad who had a stubborn, unhappy set to his brow. “Do you want me to make the pain stop? An ectoblast to your chest will end your life instantly.”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Sam shrieked, coming back into view and looking like she was trying to fight Vlad off. “You do anything to him and I’ll kill you!” Tucker just sat and stared at him, like he too was trying memorize Danny’s face.

“It’s a mercy, Samantha or do you want his last moments on earth to be drowning on the blood in his lungs.”

“Sam, he has a point. I don’t- I don’t think we can fix this.”

“No! No we always fix things, I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

Danny’s vision was starting to go, more black than anything else. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the inevitable. 

“Time Out,” Danny opened his eyes and found he was no longer in pain. He was standing up and apart from where he’d previously been lying. Sam had her hands in Vlad’s face and the older hybrid was snarling something at her. Tucker was midmotion trying to stand up, presumably to get Sam but the three of them were frozen in the moment. Danny turned and found Clockwork floating, looking very out of place in his parents lab. “Good evening, Danny.”

“You that short on cash that you work part time as a grim reaper?” Danny quipped out of habit. He looked down at his body and grimaced a bit, that wasn’t a pretty sight. No doubt traumatizing for Tucker and Sam. God how were they going to explain this to his parents? “Gonna ferry me across the River Styx? I don’t have two pennies but I think I have a bloodied $10 on me.”

“You’re core is dying and you have 17 seconds left in this world before all your organs give out and finish the process you began when you turned on your parent’s ghost portal,” Clockwork explained as he changed into child form. 

“O-okay,” Danny said shakily, trying to be brave even when he was so, so scared. He was going out whether he wanted it or not but he refused to leave crying. “Nice of you to come say goodbye then but, uh but unless you have something to say then you should let me go back. No one knows better than me that you can’t outrun death. Thanks but I’m uh I’m ready.”

Clockwork stared at him for a bit, not sure how long, time was weird like this but he changed forms a few times. “You’re quite the remarkable young man, Danny Fenton.”

“Uh thanks,” Danny added, once more looking at his body which had, according to Clockwork, a 17 second expiration date. “What’s going to happen? Am I going to become a ghost? Does heaven or hell exist for someone like me?”

“I don’t get to decide what happens, I merely see options,” Clockwork stated easily, taking his time. “If you die naturally you’ll become ghost, a mere shadow of who you are now and one who would fade fairly quickly. You don’t have strong enough anger or regrets to tie you in the real world for long.” Not great but okay he supposed, hell for his friends and family though. “You could let Plasmius deliver his mercy kill, destroying what’s left of your ghost core and ensuring you do not come back.” Better, probably won’t help the Fruitloop’s instability but he can’t save everyone.

“That one comes with it’s own caveat but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Clockwork explained. “There is a third option where you get up off the floor and walk away.” Danny blinked then looked back at his body which certainly wasn’t walking anywhere but into a plush casket. Clockwork opened his hands and the Ghost King’s Crown materialized in his hands. “If you accept your claim to the King’s Cown, it will revitalize your core and your life would be saved.”

Danny blinked.

“By sealing Pariah Dark, you won by proxy and established a legitimate claim to the throne. The Zone has been without a king for millennia, most have forgotten the old rules. Those who remembered were not too keen on a half-ghost child assuming leadership and kept you in the dark. If Plasmius ends your life then your claim transfers over to him, which he is aware of. It had been his plan all along to trick you into defeating Pariah so he could steal the Crown from you at a later date, a much easier opponent.”

Danny’s mind was overloaded with information, he didn’t know what to focus on first. He stared at his 17 seconds from death face and tried to process it all. Crown? Claim? Vlad?

“Of course,” Clockwork tutted, “he didn’t plan on your dying and in such a gruesome fashion. If he kills you and takes your claim, he would spend his remaining years ruling the Ghost Zone in a just, controlled fashion for your memory. He destroys all the stable portals and keeps the ghost and human worlds separate.” Clockwork became and old man and titled his head, “it’s not a bad timeline, all things considered.”

“And if I take it?” Danny asked quietly.

“You’re compassionate, brave and motivated, you have all the makings of a revolutionary king,” Clockwork smiled. “The Zone would experience and unprecedented era of peace, there would be positive interactions between human and ghosts for the first time since life and death split into two. Your name would spoken with reverence for the rest of time.”

“But I don’t want to be king,” Danny frowned.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Clockwork stated. “Which is why I am giving you the choice. If you pass peacefully there will be no one to claim the Crown and life will continue on, ghost attacks and all. If Plasmius kills you, he becomes an effective but unmemorable king. If you take the Crown, you can get the chance to tell Sam and Tucker how much you love them.”

Danny rubbed at his face, he didn’t want to die but he’d be sealing away his entire future with a move like this. He didn’t even know if the Crown would let him go with death, maybe he’d die and be stuck as the Ghost King until his core finally gave out lord in who knows how long. Eternity was an awful long time to carry such a responsibility. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, too afraid of the answer.

“Is there ever a timeline I became an astronaut?” He asked instead. Clockwork hummed, seemingly unsurprised by Danny’s non-sequitur. 

“Yes, in one of the few universes where you never walked into the portal. You never go into space what with human politics putting a halt on the programs but you work for NASA. You leave Amity Park at 17 and don’t come back save for your parents’ dual funeral.” He paused and Danny felt read down to his very bones, “from the moment you became half ghost you were always heading for this moment. The circumstances varied but it always came down to you and the Crown. Time is straining to continue, to see how this drama plays out. Will you accept it and all the joy and grief that comes with it?”

Danny looked over at Vlad, still mid-sneer but there was a scared desperation in his face. He and Vlad sniped at each other all the time but Danny didn’t really hate him and he didn’t think Vlad did either. Leaving him alone, plus making him be king was a heavy burden to put on his enemy. 

Sam and Tuck probably wouldn’t recover from this, he’d put them through so much already but he just knew that they’d never be the same. Could he do that to them? Take the easy way out and leave them to suffer? Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to come home to a dead son, the truth would come out and they’d never forgive themselves. Jazz certainly wouldn’t, she was 2 states over at University but he could already hear her angry, grief-stricken screams. 

Death, death was quiet. It was quiet and merciful and sad, but it was also easy. And Danny Fenton had never once taken the easy route. He reached out and took and the crown before shakily placing it on his head. He gasped, throwing his head back as his core swelled, taking up residence once more right next to his heart. Clockwork smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary. 

“The Crown of Fire, pardon me the Crown changes with each core, the Crown of Ice is now yours as is the Zone. Your reign begins now but so too does the rest of your life. People are waiting for you. Time in.” Danny slammed back into awareness on the floor of his parents’ lab, the floor he’d almost died on twice. 

He sat up as cold radiated off his body, causing frost to crawl down his arms and along the floor. Sam, Tucker and Vlad, who’d been frozen up until now, jumped back to life. There was a new, familiar weight on his head that he didn’t dare acknowledge. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent goodbye to a quiet, normal life. It wouldn’t be all bad, he could be happy like this but the Crown still felt like a iron manacle around his neck. But he got used to the ghost powers, he could get used to this too. Maybe one day he won’t look at the stars and say ‘what if?’

“Danny!” Sam shouted, throwing herself into his arms soon followed by Tucker. Their warm weight, their relieved sobs, their shaky breaths in his air, now this was something worth living for. He squeezed them tightly.

“But how dude, you were at death’s door!” Tucker asked, still not letting go.

“You accepted the Crown,” Vlad said evenly, “I wasn’t aware you even knew about your claim. Who told you?”

“You don’t know everything, Vlad,” Danny sighed, sitting himself upright. Ugh his shirt was covered in blood and ectoplasm. He needed to trash these clothes before his parents freaked. And find a way to hide the floating ice crown on his head. 

“Even an old man can be surprised every now and again,” Vlad said wearily. He stood up to his full height before startling Danny by dipping down to one knee. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome my new king and wish him well.”

“I thought you wanted this,” Danny questioned.

“I do, I did,” Vlad said, unusually off balance. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure how to feel about it but, right now, I’m just immeasurably happy you’re alive, little badger. Now I best be off, enjoy your kingdom, my liege, I’ll be sure to come bother you some time soon.” Vlad disappeared in a swirl of pink leaving just him, Sam and Tucker still clinging to him.

Danny may have a kingdom, a job he didn’t want and his whole life decided in a spur of the moment choice, but he also had something very important. He squeezed his friends tightly.

“I love you guys, thank you for being my friends even though I have the worst ideas for activities. Dying? On a Sunday night? How lame is that?” Sam laughed, a bit hysterical but it was real and it made Danny feel weightless. 

“Don’t do that again, buddy,” Tucker breathed into his shoulder. “So you gonna explain what just happened and why you’re apparently the Ghost King or something?”

“Yeah, yeah I will but let’s get changed first. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I think I’m going to need to have a conversation with them about my new job.” 

[capricorn-stark]

Smoke and Mirrors

pairing: jason todd x reader, childhood friends

warning: language, slightly heated towards the end but it’s very mild, smoking - i’m not a smoker nor do i condone it, don’t do it kids

a/n: references some early stuff from RHATO (2011)

“The girls at the diner used to call those cancer sticks.”

You thought it was pretty ironic for him to say that when he plucked the cigarette you were holding right out of your hand, leaning against the railing of the balcony and seeming utterly unabashed. You hadn’t even heard him landing beside you until he started speaking. 

You made a face at him as he unlocked and slid his helmet off while grinning at you in a typical self-satisfied fashion, bringing the cigarette to his own lips. 

“Let me guess,” you started dryly, watching a plume of smoke swirl out of his mouth as he took a drag. “That’s why you took their warning very seriously and told yourself to never, ever smoke one.” 

“I never said that,” he protested with another obnoxious laugh as he turned to glance over at you. “You made that shit up yourself. Not my problem.” 

You rolled your eyes at him before moving to fish out your pack and lighter out again, half-heartedly settling another one between your lips and lighting it up. Jason’s eyes followed the smoke back to you, his own expression unreadable.

“And I thought you said you quit this shit.” 

You shrugged, not quite looking at him when you opened your mouth to answer. 

“People say stuff all the time, Hood. What did you expect?” Your words were directed towards a little more than just smoking. A beat passed before he shrugged it off. 

“Hell if I know.” 

You both sat there for a while in silence as you smoked, watching the grey clouds stray towards the hazy glow of the setting sun on the horizon. The city beneath you was beautiful tonight, a seemingly endless stretch of dark gleaming buildings reflecting the pinks and oranges of the sunset. You wanted to relish that moment more than anything for a while, and you did. 

You closed your eyes and let the cigarette leave your mouth, clouds falling from your lips, nicotine buzzing in your bloodstream.

It would be a beautiful night. You could tell.

When you opened your eyes, you felt Jason’s eyes on you again and your turned your head to meet them. In the sunset, they really did glow a strange hue of green - yet another marker from his swim in the Lazarus. You hadn’t seen those eyes in quite a while.

“What, you want to take a picture?” you started in a somewhat jestful tone at his expression. “It’ll last longer.” 

“Would you let me?” was his rather cocky comeback as he took his own cigarette out of his mouth, another smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “‘cus I don’t have anything against that idea, per se-”

“I was joking-”

“Right, totally.” 

“I was!” The look on his face was infuriating enough to let you know that he didn’t believe shit. You let out a rather long and weary sigh. “I thought you weren’t planning on coming back anytime soon.” And at last, the disdain you had been trying so hard to contain from him was surfacing in your tone.

And clearly, from the way he was staring at you, he seemed to notice.

His latest adventures with his new friends, dubbed The Outlaws, hadn’t exactly been on the down-low. You knew one of them, Roy Harper, from being his best friend from a long time ago, and you had seen the glowing orange alien chick who accompanied them for the past few months on the news after he had taken off from Gotham. 

You couldn’t deny the fact that you had been more than a little dismayed by the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to give you some sort of goodbye before they left, either - no visits, no phone calls, no letters, not even a poorly placed sticky note on the front of your apartment door left to get swept away by some janitor when it fell off. 

You woke up one morning and heard from his brother that he wasn’t around Gotham anymore, no real explanations as to why the hell that was. 

He just disappeared. 

“You’re not thrilled to see me?” he attempted with mock hurt, and you gave him a very unimpressed look. “Sure, doll. I see how it is.” You acted like the nickname didn’t affect you as much as it did, because he didn’t deserve the satisfaction of otherwise.

“You know what I mean, Jason.” 

“I thought it was Hood?” He caught your look again. “Jeez, I’m just fucking around.” The silence stretched on and he at least had the sense to look a little guilty when he spoke again. “Y/N. Listen, I’m - I’m sorry.” 

You didn’t say anything for a while, your eyes still fixed ahead on the horizon. What did he expect you to say?

“I didn’t plan on leaving like that, I just - shit happened. And I didn’t want to stay in this shithole of a city for longer than I had to, anyways.” 

Of course. He was bad at goodbyes, so he never said them. You were above chasing after him, so you never did.

“You could’ve at least made a call after you left.” The cigarette was still burning in your hands, the white filter crumbling away in the wind. “Or, I dunno, sent a text, or even a damn email or something. Anything.” Even you were surprised by the contempt lacing your voice with every word you spoke. You had told yourself he had to have had his reasons for leaving and that you wouldn’t waste your own time being angry at him. But somehow, you couldn’t help it. It had hurt more than you chose to realize. “It’s been months.” For once, his passive expressions and sarcasm had been replaced with something else. 

Remorse. 

“I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal to you.” You almost let out an incredulous laugh at that. 

“Not a big deal to me? Are you serious?” You turned back to face him and he pursed his lips, clearly having realized that he had said the wrong thing. “After you came back - from the dead - and after everything that happened, you seriously thought I wouldn’t care what happened to you?” Jason opened his mouth, then wisely closed it while you tossed your cigarette down to crush it beneath your heel. “Wow, Jason, you knew me way better than I thought you did.” 

“I didn’t mean to leave,” he tried again after a beat, taking a half-step towards you. “I wasn’t - I was on a mission, and this submarine thing with the dudes I was dealing with blew up, and then I woke up like a week later on this island thing with a Tamaranean alien princess who thought I was Dick, and then I found out Roy was gonna get executed, so-” He seemed to realize how incredulous that sequence of events sounded from the look on your face. So he let out a sigh, wringing his hands. “Okay. Yeah. I was kind of a douche.”

“Kind of?” 

“I was definitely a douche,” he amended with another sigh, running a hand through his dark hair. He took a breath. “But I did mean it. I’m sorry.” 

And you knew he meant it when he said that. Even back in his unruly days as a Robin, when your friendship had first formed, you had figured out that it was ridiculously hard for Jason Todd to let go of his pride and apologize for basically anything. When he got older, it admittedly hadn’t gotten all that much better.

Until now, apparently. Just a little. And you could never stay angry at him for very long, as much as you might have tried.

You let out a sigh yourself, glancing up at him. 

“When did you even get back?” 

Jason made a show of fishing his phone out of his pocket and taking a look before answering. 

“About - twenty minutes ago.” He cleared his throat a little. “I wanted to see you.” There it was again - that infuriating feeling in your chest. 

“Did you?” You tried to keep your tone as neutral as possible as he rubbed the back of his neck, somewhat awkwardly glancing away from you before he spoke again. 

“Yeah. I missed you.”

Well fuck. That was a big one. 

“I guess I missed having you around. Sometimes.” He chuckled at your attempt to be nonchalant, stepping even closer to you. 

“That’s it? That’s all I get?” You rolled your eyes at him, refusing to say otherwise. You weren’t about to give in to him.

“Yeah, that’s all you-” Before you could finish, he had cut you off with a kiss. And in another moment, after his arms wrapped around your waist to pull you in closer, you realized your entire train of thought had been derailed completely because your best friend was kissing you.

“Get?” he offered when he pulled away again, another rather smug smile playing at his lips when you managed to look at him again, clearly flustered. “You sure about that?” 

You appropriately told Jason to fuck off before you pulled him down towards you again for another kiss. And that kiss turned into another, then another, and another. 

Your seemingly blasé attitude towards him and his constant teasing towards you had always helped you both shy away from whatever it was that you actually felt towards the other. It was easier to laugh at each other, or flirt, or push each other away than to actually move past your pride and admit how you felt. 

But then again, between tender caresses and heated kisses, you didn’t think there was a need to really say anything out loud. Where his hands were on your body alone could tell anyone what was going on in his head.

You had missed him more than you could express in words, and it was increasingly clear that he had felt the exact same way. Your relationship had always toyed at the fine line between friendship and something more, and your actions in that moment had firmly moved you both past the former. 

For so many years, your respective egos had provided a cover from a truth neither of you had been ready to come to terms with. But now, beneath the haze of cigarette smoke, sheets, and Gotham sunsets, you could finally see what exactly that was. There had always been something more underneath all of your smoke and mirrors. 

And although it wouldn’t be right then and there, eventually, you’d clear all of that smoke away. 

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || 13

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either. this time, you both decided to tell your brother the truth. 

warnings: f!reader

wc: 2.8k

m.list | ch. 12 ↞ ch. 13 ↠ ch. 14

Tooru’s beaming face stared up at you from your phone as you get through to voicemail for the seventh time today.

He smiled at you from the walls, a whole range of Tooru of all different ages – all Tooru’s who hadn’t shouted at you for sleeping with his best friend.

You’d come to your room in the hopes that it might bring you some comfort. Stupid decision, really. There was so much of him here, grinning at you from your walls, from your desk. You hadn’t even realised how many damn photos you had of him until today. And he’s in everything; photos with your friends, photos with your family, nice shots of Miyagi that he’s managed to ruin with half his forehead.

God, if Tooru wouldn’t forgive you for this…

No. He’d have to.

Your brother was going to hear you out, and he wasn’t going to speak over or belittle you. He had to recognise you as an independent adult.

You hadn’t told Iwaizumi you were planning on doing this. He’d bore enough of Tooru’s rage today. And besides, this was a conversation you wanted – no, needed – to have on your own.

If only your stupid brother would answer his damn phone.

What’s the bet he’s practicing his serves with all the aggression he’d cultivated in high school? Or maybe he was just watching his own phone ring, staring at it with derision as your name glowed on his screen. Or maybe he wasn’t doing anything, simply passed out on his bed, tuckered out from all the rage.

You took a deep breath as your thumb hovered over the call button. One last try. Just one.

The phone rung once more. You were starting to get sick of the sound – the same number of trills, the same mechanical rhythm.

One more time. If he didn’t pick up now, then—

“What do you want?” Tooru’s voice was sharp, with far more aggression than necessary.

“I need to speak with you,” you said, as much confidence in your voice as you could muster.

“Go away,” Tooru hissed.

“No!”

You didn’t mean to shout. It just came out of you, as if it had been dog rattling at the gates, begging to be let out for the hunt.

“You’re not going to run away from this, Tooru!” You could already feel the corners of your eyes burning, your throat starting to constrict, that awful knot in your stomach reforming.

You didn’t want to do this. But you had to.

Tooru said nothing in response. But the white noise coming through the receiver let you know that he hadn’t hung up.

“What is your problem?”

It was a plea more than a question.

“My best friend is fooling around with my sister,” he hissed.

“Look,” you breathed, your chest so tight it felt like was going to crack your ribs, “you don’t get to dictate who I do and don’t date.”

“That’s my best friend.” Tooru didn’t miss a beat. But part of you is relieved to hear that he still referred to Hajime that way. Maybe all was not lost.

“I know,” you replied, clenching your fist in your lap. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

Tooru scoffed. Every petty argument you’d had over the years comes back to you – Tooru’s dismissive, obnoxious tone, the ache of not being listened to, the frustration at being treated like a little kid.

“What if you break up?” Tooru said, as condescending as if he was explaining how the sun rose and fell. “What if something goes wrong?”

“We’re adults, Tooru,” you rolled your eyes despite the circumstances. “We’re not going to be petty about it if that happens.”

And we’ve already managed to let you live a cushy life after a breakup, you thought to yourself. Though you knew better than to tell Tooru that.

“An adult wouldn’t go behind her brother’s back,” he seethed.

It was really all about him, huh? Your relationship, how much you and Iwaizumi cared about each other… Tooru wasn’t even thinking about that. It was just his perspective, his wants, his needs.

It’s just like it was back in high school. The only difference is that this time, Tooru was articulating these thoughts. Knowing the assumptions, you made all that time ago, in your hormonal, addled teenage brains…

“Look,” you snapped. “I’m sick of losing to you.” They’re words you should’ve said ages ago. Or maybe you shouldn’t have said them at all.

But they were out now, no longer a dirty little secret held close to your chest for who knew how long.

You weren’t just talking about Iwaizumi, either. You’d always felt second to Tooru – second to his fire, second to his passions. Always second over the finish line. Always second best. Always less important.

Fuck, you’d even moved halfway across the world just to live up to his ‘legacy’. How were you supposed to just go to a Japanese university after Tooru had moved to fucking Argentina? No, you’d wanted to prove yourself. To show that you, too, were worth something.

But even after all of that, you’re still just ‘Tooru’s little sister.’

And poor Iwaizumi was all this converged; poor Iwaizumi, stuck between two hearts and shackled by his sense of propriety.

Iwaizumi, who could easily be part of both of you, weaved through both your souls by calloused hands.

“I’m not losing him again just because you don’t like the idea of us being in a relationship.”

Maybe it was an irresponsible thing to say. There’s too much truth in it, too many years of bitterness stored and cultivated in your gut.

But too much has already been said. Nothing could be taken back. And if life wasn’t going to let you have anything of your own, anything you could be proud of, then you sure as hell weren’t letting it take Iwaizumi away from you, too.

You jerked the phone away from your ear and jabbed the ‘END CALL’ icon with more force than necessary.

That… could’ve gone better. Did you even achieve anything? Or had you just added to the clusterfuck? But there was nothing to be done now.

Hajime said he’d stick by you this time. That meant there was no backing out now. Not that you wanted to – not after all of this.

✧ ✧ ✧

I’ll go for a run, Hajime had thought. It’ll help calm me down.

Wrong.

He’d made the stupid mistake of bringing his phone with him.

Oikawa’s unique ringtone blared in his pocket; a little jingle of Oikawa singing ‘Iwa-chan!’ Oikawa had created it one day in their final year of high school when Iwaizumi was taking a toilet break.

Iwaizumi had never had the heart to change it, irritating as it was.

Slowing to a stop, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and brought it to his ear reluctantly.

But this was a new kind of reticence. This isn’t the everyday annoyance he’d felt in high school whenever Oikawa stroked his own ego, or when Oikawa refused to do the bare minimum of looking after himself.

This was something else entirely. Something Iwaizumi loathed.

“Hello?” He answered gruffly, voice terse with both anxiety and exertion.

“What the fuck is going on, dude?”

Cutting right to the chase, then.

“We told you,” Iwaizumi swallowed. “We’re dating.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Oikawa snapped.

“What do you mean, then?” Iwaizumi bit back his temper.

Shouting at Oikawa wouldn’t get him anywhere. That’d just make everything worse; and he didn’t want to do that to you or your brother.

Oikawa was silent for a moment – quiet enough for Iwaizumi to check the connection.

“She said ‘again,’” Tooru murmured.

Iwaizumi didn’t have the space in his heart to get mad at you. Not after years of keeping your feelings locked in your heart, trying to do the right thing by your brother, trying to make all of this work despite the discomfort it brought you.

He took a deep breath. “This isn’t the first time something’s happened.”

A confession. One he should’ve made years ago.

But God, did his soul feel lighter for it.

“Wait, what?” The tone of Oikawa’s voice was unplaceable.

“I kissed her at the beginning of our third year.” The words were out before he could doubt them. Now wasn’t the time to be delicate, to be cautious. If Oikawa was going to respond like this, then you both have to return in full force.

“What the fuck?” Oikawa’s an emotional guy. But those three words had more rage and vitriol in them than Iwaizumi had ever heard before.

“She wasn’t exactly subtle about the fact something was happening,” Iwaizumi grumbled. Looking back on it, he really had been cold. You’d just been reaching out to him, hoping that he’d give you the affirmation you craved. He’d avoided you in the hopes that you’d forget all about it.

God, it had all been very ‘teenage’. Part of him felt like he couldn’t blame either of you for that – you were teenagers at the time, after all – but another part of his heart couldn’t quite forgive himself for what he did.

To you, and to Tooru.

“Was this before summer break?” Oikawa spoke after a long moment, a quietude in his voice that even Iwaizumi wasn’t familiar with.

Iwaizumi swallowed roughly. “Yeah.”

Another silence. But this time, it’s hostile. It felt like the silence before a huge wave crashed, the air thrumming with the tension of what was about to come. It didn’t feel like Oikawa was about to shout; no, it’d be worse than that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s hurt in Oikawa’s voice, but not the same kind of before.

“Because I knew you’d be mad,” Iwaizumi admitted. And I was scared.

“That’s no excuse.”

It never was.

“I know,” Iwiazumi sighed. “I was a coward.”

“What, so you decided that you’d just go behind my back now?” Oikawa scoffed.

“I didn’t plan for this to happen,” Iwaizumi said, biting back a snarl.

“This didn’t cross your mind at all when I asked you to live with her?”

Iwaizumi remembered that conversation well. The doubt, the fear, the apprehension. He hadn’t wanted to do it – didn’t want to put himself in that situation again. But Tooru had been persistent; kept talking about how someone needed to keep an eye on you.

“I decided to share an apartment with her for you, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said, voice surprisingly firm and steady. “Because you were the one who wanted me to keep an eye on her.”

“But—”

“I care about her,” Iwaizumi swallowed. “This isn’t all about you.”

“I never said it was ‘all about me,’” Oikawa fumed, “you guys just obviously didn’t think about me at all.”

Iwaizumi took a deep breath, the knot in his forehead getting deeper. Ignorance must be bliss. But Oikawa had no right to think like that, no right to make such accusations.

“We both put you first, you know?” Iwaizumi said, voice tight. “I dumped her in high school because of you. And I bet that she moved in with me because you asked her to.”

“What, so this is my fault?” He sounded bewildered more than anything else.

“Of course not,” Iwaizumi huffed, “but don’t think for a second that nobody in this ever gave a shit about you and your feelings.”

“Well you could’ve asked me—”

“It’s not just about you!”

Iwaizumi didn’t mean to shout. It just came out of you, as if it had been dog rattling at the gates, begging to be let out for the hunt.

He didn’t mean to repeat himself, either. Oh well.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Some sweat still lingered on his forehead – a damp reminder that a few minutes ago, he’d been on a run. To relieve tension.

Funny, that.

“Look, I know I should’ve told you about it in high school,” he mumbled. “And I shouldn’t have kept it a secret for so long. But you don’t have a right to say that we can and can’t be together.”

Their words he didn’t know he had, solid and strong and steady.

“We’re not doing this to spite you, Oikawa,” he said. “I know she’d want your approval more than anything. But your feelings aren’t going to stop any of this from happening.”

Oikawa was silent. Iwaizumi didn’t need to see him to know the look on his face; pouty, with all the air of a petulant child despite his age.

“Why do you even have such a problem with it, anyway?”

It’s the question. The one that all this mess boiled down to. Part of Iwaizumi felt betrayed; did Oikawa not trust him? Did he not deem him ‘worthy’ of his little sister?

But another part of him understood the anxiety. That’s why he asked gently, with as little antagonism as possible.

It was hard. Much harder than he’d anticipated. But it was necessary.

“That’s my little sister. And you’re… you’re my best friend. If you two broke up, where does that leave me? And I’m sure that neither of you would rely on me if you did break up, and—”

“Why are you so certain we’ll break up?” Iwaizumi nearly laughed.

“It could happen!” Oikawa whined. “Nothing’s set in stone!”

“Exactly,” Iwaizumi nodded. “So, there’s no reason for you to be so concerned about whether or not we’ll break up. It’s just as likely that we won’t.”

Another silence.

“What, are you planning to marry her or something?”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks flared and his stomach swelled. “Wh—I—Don’t get ahead of yourself!”

“Oh my God… you’re planning on marrying my sister…”

“I didn’t say that!”

“But you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t!”

Of course Oikawa would jump to conclusions like this. Shittykawa and—

“Do you love her?”

Iwaizumi was struck dumb by the question.

Does he love you? Well, yes. There’s a space in his heart specifically carved out for you, in your shape. Honestly, it’s been there so long he’s not sure if it could ever go away. Not truly.

But he wasn’t sure if that’s what Oikawa was asking. He meant love in a distinctly romantic way; the sort of love they show in movies and play on the radio. The sort of love that specifically drove romantic relationships.

Somehow, that’s what made him nervous. Iwaizumi knew he loved you – saying it out loud, to your brother of all people, was an entirely different ball game. Different meanings, different layers of love, and you intersecting all of them.

God, he’s got it bad.

He swallowed roughly, clenching his fist at his side. “It’s too early to say, but…”

“But?”

“I… I think I could.”

“God, you’re taking this too seriously…”

“I’m taking this too seriously!? You’re the one who—”

“’It’s too early to say but… I think I could,’” Oikawa parroted in his best Iwaizumi impression. Iwaizumi would’ve given it a six out of ten at best; he’s pretty sure his voice wasn’t that deep.

“You’re a piece of shit,” Iwaizumi grumbled.

“As you like to remind me,” Oikawa hummed in a sing-song voice.

It was strange. Talking in those voices. Saying those words.

It was almost like things were normal.

“Anyway,” Oikawa cleared his throat, snapping Iwaizumi out of his disorientation. “I’ve got to get back to practice. So…”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi nodded. “Good luck. But don’t overwork yourself.”

Oikawa chuckled with a tsk. “Now, now, Iwa, I’m not the boy I was in high school.”

Iwaizumi could only hope that was really the case.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Hey.”

You were sprawled out on the couch, staring at the living room ceiling. You’d quickly deemed your bedroom far too precarious of a place to be, but that didn’t leave you with much.

And you couldn’t even call Amaya – she’d be (or, at least, should be) asleep right now.

But Iwaizumi was back, appearing in the front home with his hair all ruffled and his cheeks flushed. Of course he made coming back from a run look good.  It’s really not fair.

You sat up, offering him a weak smile.

He returned it gently, making a direct beeline for you.

“Did you have a good run?” You asked.

“Mm.”

You blinked at him.

Iwaizumi looked at you with a certain cautiousness. “He called me.”

Shit.

Tooru must’ve… you must’ve said something that…

“How did it go?” You asked. No point jumping to conclusions.

“I don’t know,” Iwaizumi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It could’ve gone worse?”

You don’t know what to do with that knowledge. “That’s… good?”

Iwaizumi chuckled, shaking his head.

It was nice, seeing him smile. It felt like he hadn’t done that all day.

“Are you okay?” He asked, a big hand coming to caress your cheek.

You leant into it, pouting. “No.”

He sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Anything I could do to make it better?”

You pondered it for a moment. “You could make us lunch?”

He smiled. “If that’s what you want.”

[tanniefm]

boyfriend | jjk (m)

summary - jungkook knows what you need and definitely knows your husband can’t give it to you like he can.

pairing - jungkook x (f) reader

genre - cheating au, fwb, porn with very little plot

word count - 1.7k

song inspo - boyfriend by ray j (i literally couldn’t stop thinking of this man while listening to this song it was becoming an issue)

warnings - infidelity, explicit language, soft dom jk, sub reader, daddy kink, praise kink, it’s kinda angsty at the end oops.., pet names, kook’s very sweet but :(, subspace, hints of dumbification, jealous kook cause he loves you, unprotected sex (please don’t be stewpid like these two), jungkook in sweatpants and a ponytail (the ultimate combo)

a/n - AHHHH hi this is my first fic (more like a drabble but you get the point) like ever and i did nawt feel like editing anymore than needed cause i was afraid i’d end up deleting everything...with that said!! i really hope you enjoy and sorry if it’s cringy or wtv umbdhb yeah enjoy! oh also merry christmas if you celebrate 🥺🥺

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°

You knock on his door hastily. You texted him a few minutes earlier because you just couldn’t take it anymore. You tried to be a good wife. A good, loving, perfect wife for Jacob. But he’s driving you fucking crazy. He won’t listen to you, won’t thank you when you do things for him, and he damn sure can’t fuck you like he can. You and Jungkook have been friends for the longest. He knows everything about you and that’s probably why he can make you cum as hard as he does. You hate that it got to this point. One heated argument with Jacob a few months back is all it took for you to come to your best friend's apartment to vent and next thing you knew you were having the best sex you’ve ever had. Now you crave him constantly and you’re not even sure if you feel bad about it.

You instantly clear your thoughts when Jungkook opens the door with a smug look on his face. Fuck, he looks good. Hair in a ponytail, his black long sleeves rolled up, putting his various tattoos on display. And to your delight, gray sweatpants tight enough where you can clearly see him hard as hell. You automatically launch into his embrace and kiss him needily. He knows you, he knows why you’re here. And he’s happy to give it to you. He smiles and chuckles into the kiss and closes the door behind him. He backs you up against the door and pulls away, much to your dismay. He giggles as you whine from the loss of his lips on yours. 

“What’d he do this time, pretty girl?” he says softly as he cups your face. His hands are so pretty, you think. They're so big and make you feel so good. He’s so big. He loves making you feel cute and small, like he’s the only one that can take care of you. You think he might be right.

“Couldn’t cum…” you whine. There’s a tiny pout on your face and Jungkook thinks you’re adorable. He’ll never say it out loud, but sometimes he wishes you’d just leave him to be his. You and him both know that won’t happen though, you’re very adamant that you love Jacob. Whatever, Jungkook will take what he gets. As long as he has you.

He smiles and mockingly pouts back. “I know baby, you need me to take care of you, hm? My baby needs me to make her feel good?” He pecks your forehead softly as you whine some more. You’re so needy, he has no idea why that dude refuses to listen to you when you ask to try different things in bed. Vanilla is cute every now and then but Jungkook knows you want more. You like to be thrown around and choked but you also love when you’re praised. You like being a good girl but you’re also a fucking brat. You like to be kissed, and cuddled, and babied after you have consecutive orgasms. Jungkook knows you, so why doesn’t he?

You nod and fist your hands into his shirt. You need him, badly. He’s all you could think about while you and Jacob were having sex. All you asked was if he could pull your hair a bit and he looked at you like you were crazy and told you no. It’s one thing to not be comfortable with doing certain things, but to look at you like that and not even hear you out? It stung, and all you wanted was for Kook to take care of you like you knew he would.

“I asked for him to pull my hair and he looked at me like I was stupid. I-I just wanted to try something different for once and he refuses to do anything I want to do. I need you Kookie please I’m so wet I can’t-“ 

“Shh sweetheart, it’s ok. Come on, I’ll take care of it.” he cuts you off gently and taps on the back of your thighs to signal you to jump. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist and bury your face in his neck and suck bruises into his smooth skin while he carries you to his room. He lays you on his bed and kisses you deeply. His hands slowly move your shirt up and out of the way as he makes his way down your neck. You quickly take your bra off and throw it to the side. You can tell he wants to eat you out but you’re very impatient. As much as you love his mouth on you, you desperately need his cock filling you up right now. He softly kisses your nipple and looks up. You’re pouting again. You’re even needier than he thought. He pulls your leggings down and zeros in on your panties. There’s a huge wet spot in the middle and he can feel his cock twitch. The string of arousal that attaches itself to your underwear while he pulls them down is driving him insane.

“My poor baby, you weren’t kidding when you said how wet you were, huh? Who made you this wet?” he says while he strips his shirt off, showing more of his copious tattoos. He loved when you traced them while he held you and hummed softly after you were sent deep into subspace. Maybe he can experience that again tonight.

“You did daddy,” Bingo. You weren’t even thinking when you said it, all you could think about was him him him. He froze before swiftly pulling down his sweatpants and you watched in awe as his dick spring up to his stomach. He’s so big, you need him so bad. He climbs back on top of you and kisses you roughly while teasing your entrance. He keeps running his tip up and down to spread around your arousal.

“Daddy, please I need you inside. Please don’t tease.” you whine. You’re squirming around and your eyes are starting to well up. Why isn’t he fucking you? Should you have come at all? What if he doesn’t want you anymore? Your mind is so fuzzy and negative thoughts are starting to swirl and pull you deeper and deeper-

“Hey hey, look at me. No more thinking baby, just focus on me. There you go, that’s my good girl.” he squeezes your hips as he pushes in. He can tell when you start overthinking, it’s one of the perks of being friends with you for so long. You moan loudly as he pushes deep inside of you. He quickly sets a rough pace once he feels you adjust and sees your eyes roll back in euphoria. You’re so beautiful. He loves that he can make you feel like this. You’re squeezing so tightly around him and everything feels so fucking good. He pushes your legs to your chest and you gasp loudly.

“Daddy it-it’s too deep! Oh my fucking God I- fuck!” you whimper as he goes faster.

“You can take it precious, I know you can. You’re doing so well. Taking me so well. Fuck- you’re always so good for me. My pretty little girl. Love this fucking pussy, shit!” he rambles. He can’t help it, just as much as he fucks you stupid he also gets into a headspace where he can’t think of anything but you. The pretty sounds you make, your tight ass pussy, your soft thighs he’s holding. And that stupid fucking man you’re married to. The thought of him makes him pound into you harder. He hates him, he really does. He hates him because he wants to be him. Jungkook would treat you like a princess if you were his. But you chose that lame ass dude.

“Does he fuck you like this? Hm? Does he know how much of a little slut you are for me? Does he know how much you need this dick to make you cum?” he growls. You shake your head and dig your nails into his biceps.

“No daddy it’s you, only you. No one else but you” you mumble. You’re so fucked out and so so close. Just a little more, a little longer.

“Fuck you’re getting so fucking tight. You gonna cum princess? My little slut gonna cum all over me? I know you want to baby, go ahead and let go for me” he switches angles and makes sure your clit is rubbing against his pelvis while he continually hits your g-spot. You nod quickly while he encourages you more and more. With a cry of his name, you finally let go. It only takes Jungkook a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you with a whiny moan. He drops down and faceplants into your neck as you both pant heavily. You feel him peck your neck and face softly as he mumbles how good you were for him.

“My good,” forehead kiss, “precious,” cheek kiss, “baby,” nose kiss, “girl,” he finally reaches your lips. You smile and giggle at his cute antics. He always gets so soft after sex, you love it though. He gently pulls out and lays down beside you to tuck you in his arms. 

“You were so good baby. I’m so proud of you.” he says as he plants several kisses on the top of your head. You snuggle deeper into his chest and look up at him with starry eyes. Your head’s still fuzzy, but you feel safe with him. Jungkook is safe.

“I’m good?” you ask quietly. You were fuzzy, but you weren’t stupid. You knew what you two were doing is wrong. You knew you should break it off or at the very least leave Jacob. But you can’t, you still love him. You want to grow old with him. He just...can’t give you what you need sometimes.

Jungkook pauses. He wants to tell you to leave him. He could give you everything and more if you just leave him. But that always ends in an argument, and he hates arguing with you.

“Yes sweetheart, you’re perfect.” It’s ok. Jungkook can wait.

[lubdubsworld]

Change of heart (Chapter 7)

Chapter 1   Chapter 2    Chapter 3     Chapter 4     Chapter 5   Chapter 6

Summary : Times are changing. After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all….. He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first.

: Pairing : Taehyung x OC / Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Chapter 7

The incessant buzzing of his phone was what woke Taehyung up, his entire body aching something fierce. 

He groaned , spitting  what felt like damp hair out of his mouth, blinking against the shaft of sunlight pouring into the room through the slats of the large windows . His bedroom faced the river, and every morning the sun spilled right into his bed , lighting the room up . He loved waking up to warmth and sometimes it made up for the absence of a warm body next to him on the bed. 

But today, with her wrapped around him, he hated the intrusion....wanted nothing more than to burrow into the bed and stay there for the rest of the year. 

It took him a second to realize that Mirae was lying on top of him and he was still, technically inside her. He had been so completely gone the previous night that he could barely remember a thing. 

Other than the fact that he hadn’t had sex that good in his life. Ever. 

Cupping the back of her head gently and wrapping one arm around her waist, he carefully rolled over, laying her gently on the bed next to him. She whimpered when he slid out of her and he winced when a rush of fluids spilled out of her, drenching his thighs and the sheets. 

Bits of the night began to come back to him then. 

Vague memories of fucking her to within an inch of her life. 

Guilt began to coil around his insides as he pushed the hair of her face. She looked like she had been mauled by an animal. Hickeys bloomed all over her neck, her jaw and even on the fleshy curve of her cheeks. Her hair looked matted with sweat and damp and cum . He had a mental image of her then, weakly crawling away when he tried to push into her for the fifth time, and she had been too sore to take him , begging him to let her suck him off  instead  and he flinched when he remembered holding her down against the pillow and fucking her mouth.

He’d managed to keep his knot out of her mouth, but he’d also had a really fierce orgasm, and his release had pretty much ended up all over her. 

His phone was still ringing and he reached across the bed to grab it, answering the call before checking who it was.

“Taehyung...are you alright?” It’s Dr. Lee and Taehyung blinks, surprised.

“Oh..yes. Dr. Lee , is everything okay?”

“I was only calling to check up on you. My sister told me that you were taking Ms. Yoon home and it made me wonder. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, doc. In fact better than fine. My head is surprisingly clear. I was fully prepared for this thing to last like a week but I feel normal already.”

Dr. Lee laughed. 

“Perks of  biting your actual mate and not an impostor. How is she, by the way?”

Taehyung relaxed a bit, staring at the girl in his bed. He gently stroked the hair off her face, running the back of his fingers across the smooth skin of her cheeks. 

“She’s ... fine.” He said roughly, “ Or as fine as you’d expect her to be.” He added as an afterthought, remembering that she had tried to get up from the bed for a drink of water and her legs had given out almost at once.

“And the mating mark? Did you dress it up like I told you?”

“Yes... It wasn’t that deep but you should probably drop by tomorrow and take a look at it anyway. “ An incessant beeping told him he was getting another call and he quickly apologized and hung up on the doctor  taking the other call.

“Tae, the shipment isn’t here on time. We’ve been trying to find the CI who gave us the info and the fucker seems to have run aground. Either that or Yoon’s men got to him.... “ Seokjin’s voice trembled with frustration and anger.

“Oh...fuck hyung that’s bad. Okay, what does Namjoon think? “

“Namjoon says that we should go ahead with drilling that dude we caught during the raid last week, Jaehyun or whatever. He thinks he may have some clue because he was fucking one of the bigger suppliers’ daughter.” 

Taehyung groaned.

“What about the reports from the lab? Did they test positive for any other controlled substance? I know we’ve only focused on a couple of them ...I don’t want to be blindsided by anything. “

“That scientist dude is a pain in the ass, refuses to talk to anyone but you and definitely only in person. “ Seokjin scoffed.

“That’s fine.. I’ll be there in an hour. “ Taehyung said sharply.

Seokjin made a noise of disapproval.

“What? Namjoon told me you were with your mate.... You’re going to leave her?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes at that. 

“She’s not my actual mate hyung. As in... what we have isn’t like official or anything. She agreed to it because I asked her to help me out and she knows that this isn’t anything more than a business arrangement. I didn’t even want to do it but...sometimes you do things for the greater good....” 

He moved to get up out of the bed , levering himself up to stand. He felt better than he had in weeks, his body thrumming with vitality and his mind sharp and clear. 

“She’s human right? Is she actually okay?” 

Taehyung scoffed at the implication . 

“I’m not leaving her bleeding and unconscious, if that's’ what you’re wondering. I bought a bunch of pain stuff for her.... the kind humans use.” He felt that pang of disappointment again. 

She was incredible....beautiful and kind and full of heart, yeah but the fact that she was a human was ...... It was just cruel to her. 

. He had spouted some nonsense to her about wanting to do this everyday for the rest of their life but nothing could be farther from the truth than that.   The idea of having to handle his bedmate with kid gloves made him jittery and nervous. 

She was so fucking fragile and he had struggled so hard last night, holding back, over and over again and she had still come out of it completely wrecked.

If she were a wolf, she’d be perfectly fine by now. Healed and happy and probably even up for some morning sex.

And yes the last bit made him sound like a horny bastard but come on, he was a healthy young wolf and an Alpha at that and his libido had always been on the higher side.

He shook his head as though to clear the way his thoughts were heading. It was ridiculous that he was even thinking about this. It was over. He had claimed her. She was his. His wolf was calm now. He could go about his life without having to worry about going into rut or losing his mind at the thought of another wolf near her. 

And he would not feel guilty about it. 

there was something called the greater good. In the grand scheme of things, one night of discomfort would not cost her anything. But what he was doing was going to change the world for his people. 

Seokjin’s voice filtered in through his thoughts. 

“At least tell her before you leave, Taehyung. You’re literally the kind of bastard who would do something as insensitive as leave her after you mated her and then act like you did nothing wrong. ” 

Annoyed , Taehyung hung up without replying.

Glancing at her, he moved to touch her cheeks again. She was asleep. Sound asleep by the look of it. It would be far more insensitive to wake her up. He would go and meet the guy about the lab results and get back here before she was up. 

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

“Ow.” 

 I groaned , muffling my agony against the white sheets as I tried to will myself to get up. Breathe through the pain, I told myself firmly. You do not want to spend the entire day like this. You need a shower, stat. 

 “Taehyung?” I called out weakly, for what felt like the tenth time. But the eerie stillness in the room told me I was alone in the apartment.

 I fumbled with my phone, fighting the urge to call him. If he had left, there had to have been a reason , a reason important enough for him to leave and it struck me again that I had been a little hasty, agreeing to this. 

Fueled entirely by my wish to get rid of the excess amount of cum all over me., I dug both my elbows into the bed, lifting my self up to my hand and knees. The pain radiating from my spine, settling deep in my center and the harsh abrasions on my insides.....all of it was a reminder that I had definitely bitten off more than I could chew. 

The first thing I did was grab the pain killers on the table, popping three of them into my mouth and dry swallowing. It was a little past eleven in the morning and I was starving. But I had to get a shower first. 

The trip to the bathroom was an ordeal and I had to fight tears, just to stand. 

Okay. Maybe a bath was in order than. 

I fumbled with the taps, watching warm water fill the ceramic tub, sweating a bit in the humid room. I glanced at my thighs, lightly stroking the bruises and watching them bloom purple under my fingertips. 

The pain was already ebbing, the tablets doing their thing and with my head a little clearer, my thoughts felt heavy. Regret churned, curdling in my gut and I could taste heartbreak on my tongue. 

Sleeping with him had been a mistake. 

A colossal fucking mistake, I thought desperately. I was already feeling abandoned and miserable. I wanted to throw on some clothes and go find him in his office . Wanted to curl into his lap and then refuse to leave. 

But mostly I wanted to kick myself for feeling that way. 

Taehyung wasn’t ..... available for any kind of relationship.

 He was an Alpha werewolf and important man. 

An important bureaucrat. Someone with power and responsibility. A man driven by his need to protect his kind and destroy anyone who meant him harm.  

A man who would do anything to get his way , even if it meant seducing a human he didn’t even like. 

And he had seduced me I thought , feeling unaccountably upset at myself. 

In the  vivid light of day, with my body aching so fierce and my head spinning , I could remember everything that happened the previous day with a sort of vivid clarity. And it was almost an out of body experience, like watching the whole thing happen to someone else. 

The way he had framed his words, the soothing comfort, the reassurances. That stupid fucking dance in the living room with the most cliché song in the world, it was like something straight out of a chick-lit novel. Something only a naïve, immature , desperate woman would fall for. 

What a cruel heartless bastard, I thought angrily. There was no way he didn’t know the effect of his words and actions on me. There was no way he didn’t know that he was purposely playing the part of a loving partner just to break down any defenses I may have put up. 

And like an idiot I had fallen for it. 

Staring around at the apartment and realizing he had just left me to fend for myself, without so much as a note....... After spouting all that nonsense about making sure I was comfortable. 

And I realized with a jolt that he really only meant it for the sex. All that affection, all that concern had been just for the few hours he had me in his bed. When he meant he wanted to make me feel me meant it only for when we were having sex. 

Now that he had got what he wanted , he was back to being the guy he actually was. 

A complete stranger. 

It made me  feel so incredibly foolish . 

Wetness spilled onto my foot and I realized the tub was overflowing. I closed the taps quickly before pulling the drain to lower the water level a bit. 

Climbing in, I settled back against the hard edge of the tub, letting my eyes flutter shut as the warm water soothed my sore muscles. 

“You’re up?” 

Jungkook’s voice startled me, and I nearly went under.

“Careful.” Fingers gripped my shoulder, pulling me back to stability and I gasped out, running a hand over my face to get rid of the water. 

“You... Where did you come from?” I stared at him , gripping the edges of the tub and watching him.

Jungkook looked like a breath of fresh air, hair slightly damp and clad in a white t shirt and blue jeans. He was grimacing a bit, eyebrows furrowed in evident annoyance.

“This entire room reeks.” He complained, turning on the ventilator in the corner of the bathroom. 

I groaned, settling back and just staring at him as he rummaged in the cupboard, pulling out a few bottles, a fresh wash clothe and bottle of body wash. 

My body hummed in delight at the thought of actually being cared for. 

“I’m not even kidding, is this what having a mate is like? You look like you were in a fight with a thorny hedgerow.” He commented, making his way over , but not before stripping out of his shirt and wiggling out of his jeans. 

I hummed, enjoying the view for a second as he finally settled on a small ottoman, right next to the tub. 

I gave him a sweet smile.

“Why are you here?” I whispered. He reached over to press a kiss to my forehead.

“Hyung told me to come. He got caught up with work and he feels bad about leaving you here all by yourself.” 

“Kim Taehyung....told you to come take care of me. Sounds fake but okay.” 

Jungkook laughed.

“To be fair he actually told your brother. But Yugyeom’s busy and he also doesn’t want to see you naked and so he gave me a call.” Jungkook carefully squeezed a dollop of body wash onto the cloth, before gently smoothing the soft linen against my skin. His gaze held mine as he carefully lathered up my shoulders, my collarbones and the curve of my neck. He took care not to touch the dressing on my neck, where Taehyung had bitten me. 

I smiled when one finger stretched out, tracing circles on my skin . Jungkook was too young to be subtle , and I felt a pang of guilt when I saw the very obvious look in his eye.

 Arousal looked so blatant on his handsome face, lips parted, slicked wet. Eyes heavy and intent as he gently rubbed the skin near my throat, thumb now curving around my neck , gently pressing in. 

His gaze met mine and I held it, feeling his hands move lower, fingers curling lightly on the curve of my breasts. When I felt the brush of his thumb on the hard peak of my nipple, I grabbed his wrist.

Tugging his hand away gently, I used my free hand to lightly flick his forehead.

“Behave.” I warned. 

His gaze turned pouty and he let out a breathy, “ Just wanted to make you feel good noona.” 

“You made me feel a billion times better just by showing up here today. But, I don’t want you to get mauled by Taehyung in case he’s feeling territorial again.  ”   I smiled, shaking my head. “ I’ll take it from here. Why don’t you go wait in the bedroom and I’ll call you when I’m done so you can help me out. of the tub.”

Which in itself , probably wouldn’t be necessary. The pills had done their trick and other than feeling well fucked, I didn’t particularly hurt. 

“He doesn’t deserve you.” Jungkook’s voice was petulant , eyes clearly showing how upset he was. He moved back a bit but made no other attempt to leave.

“I thought you liked him.” I chuckled lightly as he carefully arranged the body wash and the washcloths near the tub. I reached for it myself, carefully scrubbing over my skin, for now ignoring the way Jungkook kept his eyes trained on my body as I pulled my legs up to wash them. It was odd, how little his gaze affected me compared to how my body had reacted to Taehyung last night. 

With Jungkook it was...just physical. 

I liked being touched , so I enjoyed sex with Jungkook. 

With Taehyung it had been something so much more.

The very idea of Taehyung touching me, the idea of him wanting to touch me..that had been so overwhelming. 

And so sex with Taehyung had blown my mind. 

“What do you mean, like him? “ Jungkook frowned. 

“It was always Tae hyung, this and Tae hyung that...” I teased. “ You were never subtle about your little man crush on him.” 

I carefully grabbed the showerhead, wetting my hair gently. 

Jungkook scoffed.

“Of course I like him. You can’t be a wolf and not like Kim Taehyung. He’s done so much for us.” He grabbed the shampoo off the counter but before I could take it from him, he squeezed a bit of it into his palms and sank his fingers into my hair.

“Let me do this for you, noona.,” He muttered , voice deep and soothing and I couldn’t contain the moan that escaped, his fingers feeling like heaven as they carefully lathered up the damp strands, massaging my scalp till my eyes fluttered shut.

“Taehyung has things he needs to do and ...well, I agreed to this just so he could avoid any distractions.” I said gently, reaching out and lightly touching his arm.

“That doesn’t give him the right to hurt you though. “ 

I laughed despite myself.

“Why do you think he hurt me?” 

Jungkook stopped his ministrations.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve.” 

I felt my breath catch at that. This thing with Jungkook, it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing where I felt comfortable enough sharing my feelings for someone else with him. I felt awful, embarrassed and annoyed that  something I hadn’t even fully known myself was , apparently obvious to the world.  . 

Embarrassed because it would never be reciprocated. 

Annoyed because I should have nipped this thing in the bud. 

But I couldn’t talk about this now. 

“It’s not... “ I hesitated. “ It’s not going to be a problem. For me. I’m going to fix it. “  The dull throb of the bite on my neck mocked me, even as I said it. I had agreed to something momentous , something that carried a lot of consequences behind it, and I had done it on a whim. 

Taehyung with his honey dripping tongue and gentle but firm hands had made me dance to his tune so perfectly. But now that the act was over, I was definitely in danger of drowning. 

“ So, you’re just going to hang around while he does his own thing.” Jungkook frowned.

“Actually she’s free to walk out anytime she likes.”

Taehyung’s voice broke through the bathroom like a clanging cymbal and I jerked out of the tub in shock.

Jungkook startled too, eyes going wide as he scrambled to his feet. 

Taehyung looked like he had stepped right out of a magazine. 

He was wearing a perfectly pressed pinstriped white button down and teal green slacks , a slim patterned tie , in hues of green and red, perfectly knotted at the base of his throat and  he also had on a waistcoat, fitting him like a glove, setting off his broad shoulders and trim waist. 

He had his hair styled into a perfect  part, the thick silky locks arching into perfect side bangs that fell into his eyes.

Eyes that held a whole lot of fury as they took in the sight of me, naked in his tub while an almost naked Jungkook had his fingers buried in my hair. 

“I thought you would still be sore from last night....but I suppose that isn’t true, if you felt the need to call for your fuck buddy so soon?” He drawled casually. 

I felt anger swell inside me.

“ Jungkook was kind enough to help me out because I couldn’t even move.” I gritted out. 

“A feat that required him to strip to his boxers?” 

“Hyung, just chill. If I fucked her you would be able to smell it. “ Jungkook snapped, moving to shrug his clothes back on. 

Taehyung ignored him , grabbing a pair of fluffy white towels from the linen closet.

He gave me a look.

“You done?” He asked shortly. 

And somehow, its the sheer disinterest in his tone, the gaze that may as well be directed at a stranger on the fucking road..... That is what really  stings.

I felt like the entire weight of every bad decision I had ever made in my life had just dropped on my head. Almost sagging from the sheer hurt permeating my entire body, I grabbed the edge of the tub and levered myself up, not even bothered that I was completely naked. 

I stepped right out of the tub, completely ignoring the way my limbs practically screamed in protest at the movement. 

I held my hand out for the towel, completely ignoring, Jungkook’s hasty, “ Fuck” or the way Taehyung’s eyes that had gone as wide as saucers. 

He held the towel out and I yanked it out of his grip, wrapping the fabric around my body. 

Taehyung let out a harsh, “ Get the fuck out of my house.” at Jungkook who quickly grabbed his jeans and stumbled out with a rushed.

“I’ll call you noona.” 

I glared at Taehyung, refusing to so much as acknowledge him as I pushed past him into the living room.

“Jungkook wait, I’m coming with you.” I called out angrily and the wolf stopped, looking surprised as he finished pulling his jeans on, fumbling with his buttons.

“Leave, Jungkook.” Taehyung snapped.

“Uh....” Jungkook stared between the two of us.

“Why the fuck are you still here?” This time Taehyung’s voice was louder, deeper, bordering on a true snarl and Jungkook recoiled.

“Fine. I’ll just get a cab then.” 

I turned to the bag with my clothes, grabbing the first thing I could get my hands on. 

Taehyung’s voice came from behind me , tired and weary.

“Please don’t leave.”

I stopped, closing my eyes and willing myself not to completely lose it.

“Please , just.... I know I shouldn’t be angry. This thing with us is ...nothing.” He said softly, which , fucking  ouch .  Having him actually say it was so much worse. 

But he wasn’t done.

  “  Its just a fucking favor you’re doing me, i know that is what it is. We don’t owe each other anything I know , but if you're gonna see Jungkook just... not in my house okay. I didn’t like him with you...in  my  house.”

I turned around to stare at him.

“What do you think I was doing with him in  your  house Taehyung? He came over to help because Yugyeom was busy. You were the one who asked him to check up on me....weren’t you?”

Taehyung ran his fingers through his hair. 

“I don’t fucking know...all I know is that my wolf smelled you and another alpha and-”

“You know you’re the only were who speaks like that...” I said angrily.

Taehyung blinked.

“Like what?”

“Like you and your wolf are two different entities. Like you can do any thing you want and then blame your damn wolf for it. And its beginning to piss me off.” 

Taehyung flinched at that.

“I’m just... I’m trying to do this in a way that our lives don’t get fucked up. I can’t... Your father....”

“I know. I know my fucking father is a scumbag and that he needs to rot in hell and I am willing to help you do it. But if only you could just.... give me a fucking break .,...” 

“I know...and I’m sorry. I just... I’m in a mess. Your father got rid of three of the dealers we could tie him to and it looks like there are other people involved in this whole thing. Other powerful men. I’m just... I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to do this without getting someone close to your father.”

I stared at him.

“Well, its not me. He hates my guts... He would never confide in me.”

“But he has a soft spot for a really close friend of mine....I believe you’ve met him....his name is Cha Eun Woo.”

I froze. 

“Taehyung....”  I groaned in disbelief. 

“I wanted to ask you if you would pretend to date Cha Eun Woo...”

I felt like my head was about to splinter in two. 

“Just long enough for me to get the info I need. Eun Woo is good at what he does and he can easily get into your father’s good graces, get him to confide in him and we could bring this entire fucking racket down...but the only way Eun woo could have access to your father would be through you.... “ 

Taehyung sounded desperate as he spoke, and I felt dangerously close to crying. 

“So it wasn’t enough that you got to fuck me? You’re just gonna pimp me out to your friends now...” I choked out.

“Fucking hell, Rae...That’s not what this is....This is for the...”

“Greater good.....yeah... I know.... I fucking heard you today morning on the fucking phone...Telling your friend how you had to suffer through a night with me for the greater good. And that's just perfectly fine....what I really don’t understand is why you had to fucking pretend like you actually gave a shit about me.... “ I  choked out , my eyes dampening against my wishes . 

Taehyung froze, eyes wide. 

Something awfully close to pity began to swim in them and I swallowed the bile rising up my throat. 

“Fine. Tell your fucking friend to come pick me up.” 

I couldn’t bring myself to even look at him. 

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

Author’s Note : Feedback is love.

Let me know what you guys thought. 

Taglist : @veronawrites

@ladyartemesia

@jincentvangogh

@bonyg

[lunarrwolf]

prompt #21: “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” *gets killed* “Oh.”

word count: 1,061

summary: you just wanted to play drunk among us

prompt list

—

With the process of moving hundreds of miles away from home and needing to settle into the new apartment, you hadn’t been able to play (let alone stream) Among Us for at least two weeks. The gaming community was riddled with mentions, tags and memes about how long you were away and what in the world it was that kept you at bay from posting or recording. Scrolling through it all one day, you realized it really had been a while. All that time spent unpacking and making sure everything was set really took longer than expected.

It felt like way more than fourteen days passed before finding yourself in the computer chair, systems on and accounts logged into. Out of the many texts received from friends about joining lobbies or multiplayer games while they recorded for their own channel, you were finally able to agree to one sent earlier that morning.

Corpse Husband began drunk run-throughs of the mobile and computer game not too long ago, and you’d been dying to take part ever since watching the first video. It took a few extra days of tying up loose ends in your home state before being able to let him know you could finally do a few rounds, and by then you were raring to have your little astronaut play survivor or murderer. Especially taking into consideration the lack of practice that was able to go into it lately.

“Look who’s finally among us! Miss YT/N herself!” The sound of groans was clear in your headset as the man made his pun, including emotes dropped in by your stream’s chat.

You gave a short laugh. “Oh man, Dream. I didn’t know you longed for my presence that much.”

“Of course I did. Who else am I gonna gang up on?”

“Wow—mental note for game time.” You stated, earning a weak comeback from the faceless YouTuber as he struggled to find something clever. Everyone spent a few more minutes waiting for the last couple of people before Corpse started the countdown, resulting in the group already guessing who was going to be the impostor.

CREWMATE

“Aw, man..” You muttered, disappointed that the revenge on Dream’s joke would have to wait. The only thing left to do was run around, find allies that hopefully wouldn’t kill you (even more so during one of the long tasks) and weed out the fakes.

Thanks to proximity chat being another factor, you took great advantage every time the lights were turned off during the first three rounds. Even with the dark screen, the dimmed figures of the other characters running around were always visible enough for you to avoid them. Not that it mattered when you had no idea who was deemed as either impostor, but you planned on hiding around the ship to figure it out.

It was already the third time someone shut off the power after the last voting session, which fueled a lot of sarcastic remarks from each person you passed about how often it was happening. And with the eject confirmations turned off, it was that much harder to know who was left to expose in the final five. Ethan and Sykkuno were hanging out in the back of the cafeteria this time around, and out of curiosity you trotted up to eavesdrop, being grateful you stole the color black from the deep voiced gamer. Parking yourself in the corner closest to them, you listened closely. “I think Y/N is one of them. I haven’t seen her the whole game and every time I do she’s a freakin’ jet plane.”

After an involuntary gasp, the guys stopped talking, Ethan’s blue space boy now facing your direction along with Sykkuno’s dark green one. “Oh, sorry, did I interrupt something?”

There was a short second of silence before one of them spoke up. “Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you, uh, doing on the vent?”

 You could only stare at the two young adults’ astronauts dumbfounded as it set in that you actually were standing on top of a vent. Clearing your throat, you took another swig of your drink and hovered your hand over the buttons that helped you as impostor in case you had to prove yourself. “I know what this looks like, but I can explain.” You began, taking the silence and still animations as the signal to continue. However, any planned words got caught in your throat, resorting to nothing but a very broken sentence. The small giggles rang so clear in your headphones they caused a pout that surfaced many comments from the chat. “Can’t an astronaut take a nap in the cafe of their spaceship anymore?”

“Maybe in the lobby? That way you don’t get killed.” Sykkuno suggested. Being one of the only ones not having anything pertaining to the drunken aspect of playing tonight, he was completely sober and wanted to keep you from becoming a ghost. A fact that went over your head seeing as—even though you weren’t fully drunk, just a bit tipsy—you were less responsive than usual.

It didn’t even occur that he was trying to help when you went on a tangent about how tiring moving day is when it turns into a moving month, and how you would stay up to binge a new show you found that would have otherwise distracted you from working if you played it during unpacking hours. The lights turned back on while you went on and on for the next few seconds, just for you to be interrupted by Ethan. “Just go to sleep, dude.”

“I refuse, Ethanol.” You countered, grinning when exasperation could be heard from the other end at your nickname for him. A small purple sprite with cat ears ran up beside you, and you all took a second to greet one another before you continued. “I’ll have you know that I am committed to finding the culprit. I’ll sleep when I’m dead, and that’s final.”

“I got you.” The low voice chimed in.

“Shit, wait. H-hold on a second.” Your eyes widened as they snapped to the one standing next to you, turning into slits as they narrowed. “Corpse don’t you dare—”

He did dare. And out of all the profanities and insults swimming through your slightly jumbled brain, the only thing that came out was:

“Oh.”

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Tf2 headcanons? Aw yeah! So let's say a new merc joins the team. They're a total asshole: Cocky, sarcastic, overconfident, refuse help. But both Spy and Scout see right through that, it's a defense mechanism. How do they go about making this person comfortable enough to not be an asshole?

*chanting* HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMF

Okay, jokes aside, this is one of my favorite tropes. Maybe I’m too naïve to believe that some people are just mean to be mean, or maybe it’s a sort of comfort to know that even the worst people can be understood, but either way, WOOOOOOOOO!

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

An Ass For An Ass

Headcanons

Scout:

To be honest, Scout’s threshold for asshole-ery is pretty high. Growing up with eight brothers will do that to you.

But when the new recruit came around, something immediately rubbed him the wrong way.

Recruit always stole his thunder with the crass jokes and over-the-top displays. Every battle turned into a competition, which messed with Scout’s system of fighting. He never had to focus much on his own team before, and now he had to worry about keeping his own reputation upheld while trying not to get stabbed, shot, or blown up.

Recruit also kept hitting on Miss Pauling - even after reminding them again and again that she was lesbian, and was not and never will be into dudes.

“Come on…you just haven’t been with a real man yet…”

“No, no, I’ve been with a lot of men. Real men. I just wasn’t into any of them. After a while, it was kind of obvious.”

But what really pissed a lot of people off was Recruit’s fighting style.

They were an absolute monster on the field - that’s why they were chosen - but every interaction was treated as some sort of survival scenario.

One would think that would be a good thing, but Recruit was ridiculous.

No matter what the situation was, he was fine, he was okay, he could take it, he could fix it.

He could be killed only inches away from a Medic because he would never yell for one. Sometimes Recruit would even show visible anger at being healed. It got to the point where Medic didn’t heal him at all, and just allowed him to die as to not waste time he could give too more grateful patients.

Missions were even worse.

He followed orders to a T, but Pauling had to beg him to leave a failed mission, or to leave without completely destroying the site.

Everyone just took it as Recruit showing off, or having something to prove as a rookie.

It was annoying, but ultimately harmless in most circumstances.

However, it all came to a head when Recruit tried disengage a sentry by himself and was severely injured.

Both Engineer and Medic, who had had to fix most of Recruit’s past and current recklessness, ripped him a new one, one chewing out after the other.

“What we’re you thinkin’, son?! One crossed wire and you woulda blown the whole base!”

“Zhe only reason you are allowed in my lab at all is because it’s in my contract. Personally, I vould have rather left nature to it…”

Since then, Recruit did exactly as he was told, and nothing else. And most of the team liked it that way.

But Scout recognized some warning signs immediately. Fatigue, near silence except for missions, self-isolation, snapping when people got too close…it all paved the way for a pretty nasty (and, for Scout, very familiar) result.

One night, Recruit was sitting on the balcony, and Scout came out with two bottles - a beer for Recruit and a root beer for himself.

(Scout can only drink on the weekends because one, unlike most, he can’t go to work hung over because his job requires a lot of movement, and two, he has no restraint and can’t stop once he starts.)

“What do you want?”

Scout shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?!”

“What are ya willin’ to tell me?”

Recruit just looked at the beer and sneered.

“Can’t we just skip this?” Scout said. “Maybe get to the part where you tell me what kinda Sally Sob Story we’re dealin’ with here?”

Recruit looked away.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t got one. ‘Cause you do. I can see it a mile away. So what happened? Pop leave? Somebody died? Lotta brothers and sisters? Ma had a few too many and smacked ya around?”

Recruit didn’t turn around, but Scout could tell he was crying. He had hit a sore spot. Hard.

“Hey, pal, listen…”

Scout trailed off, then slowly began again.

“…the only reason I know is ‘cause I’ve been through it, ‘kay? Outta everybody I knew, I only trusted me. And that was great when I did a good job, ‘cause I knew I put me there.”

Scout opened his bottle of root beer and took a long swig.

“But when I screwed somethin’ up, it’s like everybody I ever knew just let me down. The one thing I could count on was gone.”

Recruit looked at Scout with tears in his eyes.

“But ya can’t do everything by yourself,” Scout continued. “Believe me. I learned that the hard way.”

Scout laughed, but it was mostly to clear the air. He didn’t get serious very often.

Recruit hadn’t touched his beer, but was leaned over the balcony with his head in his hands.

Scout sighed and looked up at the stars.

“But here’s somethin’ that nobody told me - it gets easier, y’know that? You just gotta relax and cut yourself some slack.”

Recruit shifted uncomfortably. “But the Administrator said…”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know what she said. Gave ya that whole speech about how bein’ part of the team means discipline and focus and whatever. It’s all bull crap. She don’t know the first thing about bein’ on the field. If she did, why’d she hire us?”

“Sh-she said my perseverance was an asset to the team.”

“Perseverance, my ass. You know what would be an asset to the team? Stayin’ alive for more than fifteen minutes!”

Recruit looked at his feet. He had blinked away his tears, but he still looked on the verge of falling apart.

Scout put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it a little.

“You’re a great fighter, Recruit. You’re one of the best…that’s why you’re here. You got nothin’ to prove to nobody. Not to me, not to the team, not to the Administrator…not even to yourself. You’ve made it, kid. You’ve made it.”

Scout slid his hand off Recruit and started to walk away.

“Hey.”

Scout turned to see Recruit in the process of opening his beer.

“Thanks.”

Scout smiled. “No problem, pal. Plenty more under Demo’s mattress.”

“No, I mean…for that. I needed that tonight.”

“Oh…yeah! Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

Scout went back inside and to his room - but not before checking the cameras on the balcony a few times. Just in case.

Over the next few months, Scout kept helping Recruit break some old bad habits.

Recruit learned to take criticism without getting angry, to leave tanked missions, and to take care of himself.

He still occasionally flirted with Miss Pauling, but it was now more of an inside joke than anything.

Recruit still isn’t perfect - he still cringes a little when he’s healed, and falls back into survival mode when times are stressful - but he is now a much happier, much healthier person.

Spy:

Spy’s asshole wasn’t a merc, per se.

They were more of an informant, usually giving out important facts about locations, missions, and a target’s history.

Sometimes they would even use the Administrator’s PA system to announce new rules and reminders.

This would be perfectly fine - after all, you get kind of tired of hearing the Administrator all the time - except for the fact that Informant was the most sarcastic, most nasally, most apathetic, most matter-of-fact person on earth.

Even outside of a work setting, which was rare because they stayed in their office most of the time, Informant would go out of their way to be as condescending as possible.

Especially to whoever they considered to be in the “less intelligent” category: Heavy, Pyro, Scout, Demo, and Soldier.

To all the “others,” he turned every briefing into a contest to see who knew more at any given time…which, of course, usually meant he won.

“Now, does anyone know where his address is? Come on, any takers? Yeah, I thought so.”

Unlike Recruit, which would only warrant a few grumbles here and there from the team, Informant was the subject of a lot of hissed complaints and terrible rants from even the calmest of members.

Informant was the only one who could get under Heavy’s skin - a personal pet peeve of his was being considered less intelligent or less of a human being because English wasn’t his first language, which Informant chose to remind him of constantly.

It began with a few simple jabs at his grammar or word structure, but once Informant figured out that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly outside of battle, the taunts grew more and more daring.

Heavy would usually ignore Informant, which would only exacerbate their need to be noticed. This led to some pretty nasty interactions - from spouting the statistics of Russia’s average intelligence to even saying Heavy was a disgrace to his country by being a literature major.

“How’s that Russian literature major treating you? You know - in America.”

Sniper and Medic had tried to set Informant straight, but Heavy refused to accept any help. This was something that was his to bear, and his alone. He knew that they both took their own helping of harassment.

But one day, Informant went a little to far.

He did the one thing you should never do: insult Heavy’s family.

“You mother and sisters can’t do anything more than wait for you. No wonder you’re the only source of income.”

Before he knew it, Informant was against a wall, struggling to breathe, blood running into his eyes.

Heavy walked away after the incident, and told Medic about it, but he refused to heal him. Informant had called Medic a Nazi on more than one occasion.

This, finally, is where Spy comes in.

Spy was walking by Informant’s office, when he heard a strange sound - barely suppressed hiccups and sobs.

Despite his aversion to displays of emotion, the promise of seeing one of his greatest enemies as their lowest was too amusing to resist.

He knocked lightly on the door, then slowly opened it - always the master of drama.

Informant was under their desk, bloodied and bruised, sobbing into their knees.

Spy entered noiselessly, sitting in Informant’s office chair and lighting a cigarette.

It was only when Spy made a dramatic exhale of the smoke that Informant looked up, tears streaking their face.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Spy finally spoke.

“Oh, how the mighty fall. Flown too close to the sun, have we?”

Informant couldn’t do much more than snivel and retreat farther below the desk.

“Who did it?” Spy asked. “I want to give them my regards…and maybe a bottle of wine.”

“H-Heavy…”

“Oh? Well, if anyone can bring him to blows, it’s you.”

Spy put his feet on the desk and continued to blow smoke out of his nose, thinking.

“It’s strange,” he said. “Most offices have at least a few pictures of family. A trip to the beach, perhaps the zoo…?”

He took a quick glance around.

“No children. No army mates. No graduation photos or a large catch at a local lake. The only personal item you have is this…”

Spy picked up a Rubik’s Cube. The plastic still around it crinkled.

“Unused.”

Informant looked at the floor.

“I like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

Spy pursed his lips and squinted.

“How noble of you. But I don’t think that’s the case. You know what I think, Informant?”

Spy took his feet of the desk and bent down, looking Informant in the eyes.

“I don’t think you have a life.”

Informant’s eyes went wide for a moment, then his face immediately crumpled. Bullseye.

Spy smirked and got up from the chair, starting to leave.

Informant’s sniffling turned into sobbing, and before Spy could put his hand on the doorknob, muffled wailing filled the office.

Spy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was trying not to remember something. But the imagery was too strong.

He remembered hiding under a table, like Informant was. People screaming and cursing at each other in French. His knees all scarred and his nose runny from a cold that should have resolved weeks ago. Waltz music coming from next door, trying to drown out the fighting. Glass breaking. Biting his knuckles so he wouldn’t whimper or cry.

Spy’s hand closed into fist. He took a deep breath, and turned to face Informant again.

“But to be fair…”

He walked towards the desk, putting his hand in his suit pocket. He got on his knees and pulled out a pink handkerchief.

“…I don’t have one either.”

He offered the handkerchief to Informant, who put it to his face, still staring at Spy through red eyes.

The pair were silent for a moment, with Spy putting out his cigarette and lighting a new one while Informant cleaned themselves up.

“But the difference between you and I,” Spy said, his voice wavering a bit, “is that I am a Spy. If my information got into the wrong hands, it could be the end of me and my team.”

He tapped his cigarette on a nearby trash can, letting the ashes fall into it.

“But what are you hiding from?”

Informant took a shaky inhale, the handkerchief still covering his nose and mouth.

“W-what?”

“Why do you feel the need to be, as Scout puts it, a tier five jerkazoid?”

Informant sniffled. “I…I didn’t think I took it that far.”

“Took what that far?”

“I just…snrk…I thought that’s what I had to do to get them to take me seriously.”

Informant laughed, but their heart wasn’t in it.

“I’m five foot four with red hair and freckles. I look more like someone’s Andy doll than a contract killer. I thought maybe if I knew everything…I’d be worth it.”

They shrugged.

“At best, they’d be impressed. At worst, they would never get close enough to me to know the truth: the only reason why I’m here is because I can rattle off a few names and that I had good grades in school because I had nothing better to do.”

Spy’s chest ached. He didn’t know why, but it was a strange feeling to him.

“Mon ami…”

He cleared his throat.

“If half of the team is any indication, you don’t need to be Nikola Tesla to be hired. Hell, the fact you can read is an anomaly in itself. But there is something you must understand…”

Spy cleared his throat again. His voice had gotten quite unstable all of a sudden.

“Intelligence is measured in different ways. Scout could never read even the simplest of children’s books, but his physical intelligence - reflexes, spatial awareness, aim - is phenomenal. Medic would have to put my spine back together if I even attempted to do what he does on the field.”

Informant snickered at the joke, or perhaps the image it conjured.

“And me,” Spy continued. “I can speak almost any language, adjust to any social setting, charm anyone, fool anyone…kill anyone. Just like you, I can remember, and I use the information I absorb mostly to show how superior I am to all my lowly colleagues.”

Spy furrowed his brow and looked away.

“But I know less about myself than even my enemies. I have hidden it so deep within my mind that I can hardly remember…or perhaps would rather not remember…who I was before this mask of mine.”

Informant hesitated. “I…I’m sorry, Spy.”

Spy sneered and puffed a few smoke rings.

“I don’t want your sympathy. I want you to have some self-respect - and respect for my teammates. Because next time you are beaten within an inch of your life, you might catch me in a less generous mood.”

With that, Spy got up, reached into his suit pocket and presented a small MediKit, which he tossed to Informant.

“I’d suggest freshening up before going to any more briefings.”

Informant nodded, and set to work healing himself.

Spy started to leave, then stuck his head back in.

“And hang a few posters, would you? Your office looks like a prison cell.”

Finally, the Frenchman took his leave, adjusting his suit and nodding solemnly to the team members he happened to pass - or scowling at them, depending.

He glanced over the security feed, and once he was satisfied, made his way to his smoking room.

Spy closed the heavy oak door, poured himself a small glass of scotch, and sat down in his chair next to the fireplace.

He put a magazine on his knee and began to flip through the pages, but his gaze soon started to wander.

He closed the magazine, tossed it into the fire, leaned into his hand, and wept.

…So what became of Informant?

Well, after a reluctant heal from Medic and a few well-deserved apologies, Informant began to try and break the cycle of self-sabotage.

The process took a lot longer than Recruit’s did - especially since Informant’s transgressions were a lot more egregious - but, little by little, they began to heal.

A lot of the time, the other mercs would have to tell them to tone it down a bit, or to cut him off completely if necessary.

Informant still almost has a panic attack if he doesn’t have the right papers, and his office is still pretty bare, but he took Spy’s advice - a few AC/DC posters hang on the leftmost wall.

As for Spy, well…he needs to have a talk with Medic.

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

I am so sorry…this is all so messy and weird. One is so much longer than the other, and I’m not even sure half the dialogue sounds right.

The two headcanons were just typed out at different times, the first where I had less motivation and the second when I had more motivation. This wasn’t on purpose, it just happened.

I hope you still like it, though!

[mcwriting]

just say I Do

I have been super active lately which is vv weird for me but this has been in my drafts all summer and I thought now was a good time to post it since wedding season is coming to a close :)

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 2945

Warnings: alcohol mention; slight angst with happy ending

§

She was a walking red flag from the moment she refused to laugh at your jokes.

Sure that sounds like a stupid reason, but more little "quirks," as Tom liked to call them, made themselves present the more he talked about Alaina.

He had been one of your best friends for years, but now he refused to listen.

"She doesn't trust us to hang out anymore?" you had asked incredulously.

"No, no. She's just insecure with the idea of us being alone together. That's all," he tried to reassure you. "I want to prove that I'm trustworthy."

Insecure

Code for "I don't trust you at all but I'm gonna keep using you for my benefit."

She had no reason not to trust him. You'd been in the friendzone for years and neither of you would ever cross a boundary. He was the most trustworthy person you knew.

After a couple weeks of his blatant ignorance of each red flag, you decided saving him from this relationship could never happen. You'd just have to let him drown in it.

So, you kept your mouth shut and ears open every time you hung out as he dumped all of her problems onto you. She'd turned him into her personal therapist and now you'd become his.

Regardless of how much you'd tried to extend an olive branch to her, she denied it every time, continually trying to push you away from her and, subsequently, Tom.

After months of this, yours and Tom's friendship eventually phased itself out.

Years of memories left in the dust .

You were almost happy, though. No more emotional trauma dumps every time you hung out with Tom. No more unnecessary hostility from Alaina. No more hiding your long-standing feelings.

You'd actually tried to tell him how you felt months earlier, but that got squashed when the "big news" he needed to tell you was that he had met someone. That "someone" being Alaina, of course.

You'd finally decompressed from all of the Tom drama when life decided to ramp up again as Harrison popped the all-important question to your female best friend, Rebecca.

The day after his proposal, she'd asked you to be maid of honor and you were quickly thrown into helping plan a wedding.

So you did your job: dress shopping, party planning, and shower throwing.

One unfortunate happenstance was that Tom was Harrison's best man, meaning that you had to see him again, especially within the month before the ceremony.

However, as the month moved forward, you and Tom had reconnected, your friendship much more lighthearted than how you'd left it previously. While Tom still talked about Alaina on occasion, he was no longer dumping everything onto you.

She still showed up to certain things, like a wedding shower and some parties, but you were mostly able to avoid her hostility and focus on Rebecca and Harrison.

Finally, after months and months of planning, the rehearsal dinner came, and you were almost hoping they'd just sign the papers that night and call it a wedding.

You were in the bridal suite touching up your lipstick as Rebecca and Harrison talked with the minister when Alaina appeared behind you, arms crossed.

"What's your angle, y/l/n?"

You furrowed your brows but didn't turn around, continuing to carefully apply the liquid lip as you just looked at her reflection.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sister. I'm just here to watch my best friend get married tomorrow."

"Don't play dumb. I know you're trying to get between me and Tom," she huffed.

"I can guarantee that's not what's going on here. We're friends again. That's all."

"You've been trying to squeeze your way into our relationship ever since it started. Forcing Tom to hang out with you alone, always texting him..."

You screwed the lipstick shut and stood up, whipping around to interrupt her.

"I'm sorry, what? I never forced him to do anything. He and I actually started communicating less once you two got together. You know, I knew you were insecure but I didn't think it was this bad."

"Well you've still been trying to pry us apart, even after your little friendship hiatus."

"Honey, I'm the reason he even asked you to make it official. He was too scared of committing, but I told him to pull the trigger and make you his girlfriend. Now I get that you have family trauma and the whole thing with your parents but-"

When she cut you off you knew you'd made a mistake. She wasn't supposed to know what all Tom had told you.

"You know what about me?"

You took in a sharp breath, unsure how to answer. An awkward pause fell between you.

"Everything. I know almost every damn thing about you. You were using Tom as a therapist and he took it to me. And I'm sorry about everything that's happened to you but I was almost glad when you forced me out of his life for a little bit because it meant I could finally deal with my own problems for once."

She continued to stare at you, stunned.

I- everything?" she breathed. You nodded, somber. "Why would he do that?"

"Dude. We were best friends for years. Told each other everything. Always went to each other to talk through the deep stuff. He didn't really know how to handle the stuff you were telling him. I wouldn't blame him for wanting to tell someone."

"But you know all this... stuff about me!"

"And those things aren't what shaped my opinion of you! Sure, it gave me some insight into your personality, but you can't let that stuff define you. You aren't going to get any real help dumping it all on your boyfriend, either."

"What are you trying to say, y/n?"

"I'm saying that him telling me everything shouldn't be the real problem here. The problem is that the whole relationship is toxic. Break up or don't, but you both need help. Tom isn't your therapist and if that's all you want him for then he shouldn't be your boyfriend. You both deserve better."

Each of you sat in that statement for a moment. After all of the frustration and anger, you'd chosen to channel it into something constructive.

Alaina had a look of defeat. You'd expected anger from her after everything.

"Yeah. Maybe we do. I just can't believe I couldn't trust him with the most important things in my life. Maybe I shouldn't have been trying to keep you apart all this time. I really should've been getting you together."

"What? No, Alaina don't say that-"

"Do you know where Tom is?"

"Come on don't do this right now-"

"Y/n just tell me where he is."

"I- You were the last one with him as far as I know. You came in here after I did."

In silence, she nodded and exited, leaving you alone again with a pit in your stomach.

You quickly tried to straighten yourself out, taking one last look in the mirror before you walked out and faked a smile.

"Oh! There you are! We're gonna get started on the rehearsal now!" Rebecca said as she caught you in the hall. "Just head outside and if you see Tom, tell him to come, too."

You did see him as you headed that way. His lips were pressed into a tight grimace as Alaina quietly talked to him near the building's entrance.

His eyes caught yours briefly and you gestured your head towards the alter, tapping your wrist. He gave a small nod of recognition and Alaina turned to see you in the distance, giving you a sad grin.

Tom started to tell her that he needed to go rehearse when she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Bye, Tom. Keep in mind what I told you," she said, leaning up to press a kiss on his cheek before walking off to her car, leaving for good.

You could tell he trying not to seem sad as he followed not far behind you to join everyone else.

When Rebecca returned, she was excitedly telling everyone the plan for walking down the aisle, deciding to pair bridesmaids with groomsmen as there was an equal number.

The pit in your stomach grew when you realized that meant you and Tom would be paired together.

The pairs lined up, you and Tom having to be last. You knew it would take a while when the flower girls took forever to walk the aisle and the first male/female pair couldn't figure out their cue.

Your arm was looped in Tom's but you had never felt so apart from him. Both of you were stiff, trying not to move too much.

"Alaina dumped me," he finally whispered, leaning over to tell you, as your heels brought you close to his height.

Your head stayed forward as your gaze fell to the ground.

"I figured as much. I tried to talk her out of it but... you know."

"Yeah."

There was another heavy silence.

"I'm really sorry, Tom," you started, but he cut you off.

"Don't. We just need to focus on Becca and Haz," he bit back, stone-faced.

You wanted to say something more, but you were cut off by Rebecca telling you your cue and getting you to walk the aisle in sync.

You couldn't look at Tom the rest of the night and hardly touched your dinner as your thoughts ran wild of how to make things up to him.

You couldn't tell Rebecca what happened. This was her time to shine, and you figured if Tom were to tell Harrison anything, it would just be that they'd broken up.

A couple speeches were made about the happy couple and finally it was over, all of you nervously ready for the real ceremony tomorrow.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you made it out without talking to Tom again.

The next morning, things ramped up as the bridal party got ready while sipping mimosas. Everything felt frantic because you felt the need to supervise and take stress off the bride.

It didn't help that you were still stressing over Tom.

You went into the bathroom to catch your breath, trying to maintain a positive facade.

When you stepped out, you found Rebecca looking beautiful as ever in front of you, but you quickly recognized the look on her face.

"Lets go to the balcony real quick. I feel like we need to talk."

You followed her out, both of your robes flowing in a soft breeze as the sun shone down happily. She handed you another mimosa as she leaned over the railing.

"Harrison told me about Tom. Said it was a pretty big deal."

You groaned, trying not to facepalm over your freshly done makeup.

"Becca we shouldn't be talking about this right now. We need to focus on your wedding-" you started, reaching for the door handle.

"Y/n. I want to talk about this. And I hear you're supposed to listen to the bride on her wedding day," she chuckled. You rolled your eyes and smirked.

"Fine. Yeah, they broke up. And it's all my fault and Tom's probably pissed at me but whatever. It's fine."

"From what I hear he's not as mad as he probably should be. It's been a long time coming, you were just the catalyst. Just think how much longer it would've taken for them to pull their heads outta their asses without you."

"He's not mad?"

"Doesn't sound like it. I think you guys need to talk about it, though."

You sighed.

"We will, eventually. We both agreed yesterday that we just need to focus on you two right now."

"You know that's gonna be hard, right? I mean, you're both gonna be stuck together from pictures up until after the ceremony."

"Yeah, yeah. I promise I won't ruin your wedding. Can't speak for Tom, though," you joked, holding your glass up towards hers.

"I'll take your word for it," she replied, clinking her own glass against yours.

§

The bride and groom weren't ones for superstition, so you took wedding photos before the ceremony to maximize lighting and time with the guests later.

You didn't talk to Tom at all, but neither of you could keep from making quick eye contact between shots.

Finally the time had came for guests to begin arriving and the big moment to actually come.

After some last minute touch ups, the wedding party greeted guests as the countdown began. Once things were in place, you all went back into the building to line up, ready to start.

Again, you and Tom were linked together, waiting in bated breath.

"Alaina told me something yesterday before she left," Tom whispered.

You hummed in response.

"Yeah. Said I never really loved her."

"What makes her think that?" you asked, trying to pay attention to those ahead of you in line as music started playing outside.

"She told me I probably loved you," he replied casually.

Your eyes widened as you turned to look at him in shock. Again you wanted to reply but Tom tugged your arm and started stepping forward.

"Oh, looks like it's our time to shine."

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you walked down the aisle, seeing familiar faces as a blush rose to your cheeks before you both separated at the alter, leaving an empty spot between you and Harrison.

You pretty much forgot all of the nervousness when you watched your beautiful best friend come down the aisle with her dad. Harrison was tearing up and you were fighting back your own.

The ceremony began and throughout it, you and Tom continued to look past the couple and steal glances of each other.

When the vows finally came, you actually were crying, pulling a hidden tissue from your bouquet to dab your eyes as you watched with a watery grin. They had written their own vows.

You still couldn't help but watch Tom, though, as the two professed their love in front of everyone.

When they finished, the minister was given the rings and the most important part came.

"Now, Harrison, do you take Rebecca to be your wife? Will you love and cherish her for the rest of your days?"

The groom said I do, but you could only see Tom mouthing the same words to you.

When Rebecca was asked the same thing, you couldn't help but mouth the same words, too.

With that came a kiss and the declaration of marriage, with each couple again pairing off to run down the aisle.

You didn't have time to talk to Tom though, as you were whisked away with the bridal party to have a glass of celebratory wine before dinner as you waited to enter the reception.

That dinner again went on without a hitch, with both you and Tom making pre-written speeches about the couple before the first dance.

Once the DJ turned up the music, everyone was out on the dance floor having a good time when he slowed it down again for couples to dance to.

You were prepared to walk off when a hand caught your arm.

It was Tom.

"Dance with me," he beckoned, and you couldn't bring yourself to say no.

You slow danced in silence, trying to figure out what to say as he twirled you around.

"So..." you started.

"Don't feel bad about Alaina," he immediately replied.

"But I'm the reason you broke up."

"No, I am. You were right that neither of us were handling things correctly. I should have never told you her personal business behind her back. I'm sorry for doing that to you, too."

You gave a lopsided grin.

"It's okay. I get why you did. I'm probably the best person you could've gone to anyways. I'm guessing you also apologized to her?"

"Yeah. I did last night but then I called her this morning and we talked it out. We should've broken up a long time ago. I wish I had listened to you back then."

You raised your brows.

"So you actually remember all the stuff I pointed out?"

"Just because I ignored it doesn't mean I didn't hear it. I was just too stupid and puppy-blind to see how much you actually cared."

You hummed as you wrapped both hands around his neck, stepping a little closer. He rubbed your back as he went to speak again.

"She was right, too. You are the one I really love. I meant it when I said 'I do.'"

"So I didn't just imagine that?"

"Just as much as I imagined you replying," he smirked. You smiled and bit your lip.

"I never wanted you to find out this way. I wanted to tell you the day you told me about her."

"It's probably for the best."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" You were confused at what he meant.

"Because now everyone we know can see firsthand that you're the one I love," he answered.

You were about to ask what that meant when he tipped up your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as the song ended. When you pulled away people were moving around so that Rebecca could throw the bouquet.

"You know what?" she announced. "I think I just need to do this."

Everyone watched as she marched over and handed you the bouquet directly, causing cheers to ring out around you.

"Now you just gotta say I do!" she exclaimed.

You looked up at Tom and he smiled down at you.

"I did."

§

A/N: okay half of me hates this bc I can't imagine how obnoxious this would be if it happened in real life but also it's kinda 🥺

Lemme know how you feel! Wedding szn had me in my feels again this year so I couldn't resist. If you liked this I'd suggest checking out the objection because it's also got angsty wedding vibes oop

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[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

So, I know you made a post about Martyn's comment about Grian having Stockholm Syndrome, but I feel like there's a lot of angst potential. Maybe something about Martyn and Skizzle trying to convince Grian to join them, but Grian refusing to even leave Scar's side of they kill him.

i feel like this one kinda accidentally became Grian’s villain origin story but ngl i’m not complaining

…

Martyn and Skizz are walking together through the forest, on their way to the desert to do some surveillance. They’re just walking up the hill near the edge of the forest when a random thought occurs to the latter. “Hey, what’s that thing where you, like, get close to your captor?”

“Huh? Oh, uh… Stockholm Syndrome, isn’t it?” Martyn responds.

“Yeah, that’s it. Stockholm Syndrome.”

“What made you think of it?”

Skizz shrugs. “I dunno, I was just thinking about Grian and why he doesn’t seem to be eager to leave Scar anymore.”

Martyn shoots him a sideways look. “You think he’s got Stockholm Syndrome? Huh. Honestly, I think you might have something there. I’ve known Grian for a long time and I know for a fact that hates people telling him what to do.”

“I really wanna save him, dude,” Skizz says. “I hate the idea of him having to slave away under Scar for even another day.”

“I do too,” agrees Martyn. “But I don’t think we can-.”

“My ears are burning,” comes a familiar voice.

The two look sharply up to find Grian himself sitting on a high branch in the tree directly in front of them, right at the top of the hill.

“Eavesdropping again?” Martyn demands. “How much did you hear?”

“Just something about slaving away under Scar. That’s how I knew you were talking about me. Not nice to talk about someone behind their back.”

Skizz and Martyn both frown. There’s something different about Grian today; he’s not his usual self. It’s worrying particularly to Martyn, who’s known him for a very long time.

“Grian, we need to talk to you,” says Martyn. “About Scar.”

“Uh huh.” Grian hops down from the tree and dusts off his hands. “You’re not gonna kill me, are you? Oh, no, wait: neither of you can. Martyn cuz you’re green and Skizz because you’re spineless.”

Skizz blanches. “Wh-What the hell?! That came out of left field!”

Martyn steps towards Grian, carefully making eye contact with his old friend. “Grian, this isn’t you. Scar’s red life energy is corrupting you, turning into something you’re not. It’s not healthy.”

“Healthy?” Grian tips his head on one side. “Huh. That’s one way of looking at it.”

Martyn pushes on: “We can help you leave him. Either we can take your first life or we can help you escape him.”

“We can keep you safe,” Skizz adds, pushing aside his hurt feelings over Grian’s prior comment. “If you’re worried about what he might do to you.”

“You think I wanna LEAVE?” Grian scoffs.

Martyn and Skizz exchange a look. “What do you mean?” asks the former slowly.

“Scar is my excuse to kill people,” Grian responds. “That goes away if I leave him.”

“Yeah, you’ve already killed at least five people, including me,” Skizz responds. “Are you really sure you wanna keep going?”

A grin slowly appears on Grian’s face as he grabs a block of TNT and lights it. “Let’s find out.”

“Skizz, move!” Martyn yells in a panic.

The two simultaneously spin round and take off running but the TNT quickly explodes behind them, the force sending them both tumbling off the top of the hill.

Martyn groans as he pushes himself up, his whole body aching from the rough landing. His left ankle, which he felt himself land heavily on, throbs. He glances warily around him and finds Skizz lying on his side a few blocks to his left, unconscious.

As Martyn crawls over to him to check on him, he spots a figure emerging from the trees. His breath catches in his throat as he registers Grian slowly and dangerously coming towards them, a flint and steel clearly in his hand.

“Grian, get away,” Martyn snaps, unable to hide the fearful shake in his voice. He moves awkwardly in front of Skizz, protecting him from Grian. “Get away from us.”

“Killing Skizzle will be delicious,” says Grian, grinning maliciously. “His last life. I wonder what it’ll feel like to take a red life? To know that the person I’ve killed will not respawn?”

“Don’t you dare!” growls Martyn. “Kill me if you want but don’t hurt him.”

“Martyn, Martyn, Martyn…” Grian shakes his head in mock disappointment. “You keep doing this. Every time you swear you don’t care about people, every time you swear you won’t get attached to anyone else, you do. Would you really sacrifice one of your lives for him, Martyn? Someone you’ve only known a few weeks?”

“Skizz has proven himself a generous and loyal ally,” Martyn replies steadily. “He’s shown himself to be perfectly willing to sacrifice his last life for us so I’m willing to sacrifice my first for him.”

Grian shrugs. “Okay, that can be arranged.”

As he steps closer, Martyn pushes himself to his feet, holding his left foot gingerly off the ground. “Please, Grian, don’t. You don’t have to let yourself get corrupted by Scar any longer.”

“Corrupted?” snorts Grian. “That’s cute.”

“Seriously, you’re suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. You don’t-.”

Grian laughs loudly, interrupting Martyn. “Stockholm Syndrome?! You really don’t get it, do you, Martyn? Scar is useless on his own. You think he would’ve been able to do HALF the damage I’ve done? If it weren’t for me, he’d have lost his red life about half an hour after his second. I’m the one keeping him alive; not because I care about him but because he’s my excuse to kill people as a green lifer. I have the highest body count on the whole server and I’m still green. Martyn…”

He moves closer to Martyn and grips his shoulder almost painfully, a terrifying smile on his face. “I’m the mastermind. Scar thinks he’s in charge and that’s what ties this whole arrangement together so neatly. Everyone focuses on Scar because he’s the red lifer and oh poor innocent Grian is stuck doing everything he says. Nobody EVER suspects that I’m anything more than just Scar’s puppet.”

“He’s yours,” says Martyn quietly. “Isn’t he? He’s just your puppet.”

“He is. But I can tell you’re trying to stall. Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.” Grian takes hold of Martyn’s other shoulder, trapping him on the spot. “But I don’t want to kill my old friend, no matter how much you beg me. Not yet, anyway.”

Before Martyn can react, Grian shoves him roughly aside. His ankle rolls again as he hits the ground, causing more pain to explode up his leg. “No!” he yells, as he spots Grian advancing on a semi-conscious Skizz. “Grian, don’t!”

Skizz tries to get away from Grian but the green lifer draws his sword and presses the point against his chest, forcing him to stay still. He stares into Grian’s eyes and sees nothing but evil in them. “Grian, please…! Please, don’t!”

“It’s either you or Martyn,” responds Grian. “You pick.”

Skizz meets Martyn’s gaze, and Martyn knows immediately what he’s going to say.

“O-Okay,” Skizz whispers, tipping his head back in defeat. “Kill me and leave Martyn alone.”

“NO!”

But as Grian raises his sword, a battle cry echoes through the trees and seconds later, three figures burst out of the forest: Ren, BigB, and Etho.

Grian scrambles back in shock as they charge towards him, before turning and fleeing back into the trees. BigB and Etho pursue him but Ren stays behind to drop down at Martyn’s side. “Thank god we got here in time! Are you two okay?”

“Apart from my ankle, I’m fine,” says Martyn, letting out a sigh of relief. “Skizz?”

“I-I think I’m okay,” Skizz responds, pressing his hand against his forehead. “But my head hurts.”

Martyn frowns sympathetically. “You were out for several minutes so you probably have a concussion.”

“Let’s get you two back to Dogwarts to rest,” says Ren kindly.

But just as Ren moves to help Martyn up, a notification flashes up on their communicators.

Bigbst4tz2 was slain by Grian

Ren lets out a low growl. “That’s it. Those filthy desert hippies have gone too far.”

“No, Ren,” Martyn says. “It’s not them; it’s just Grian. He’s the one who orchestrated all this. If you hadn’t turned up, he’d have killed both of us. He’s the real threat, not Scar. Not even Scott and Jimmy. They all do what Grian says; he’s got them all in his pocket. He’s…” He pauses, recalling Grian’s words with a shiver. “He’s the mastermind.”

Ren gazes at him for a moment. “Okay, it seems we have some things to discuss when we get back to Dogwarts. But for now, I need you two to head home while I help Etho and BigB.”

“Yes, boss,” says Martyn. “But I-I may need some help; I’m not sure if I can walk at the moment.”

Skizz sluggishly stands up and makes his way over to Martyn, whom he helps to his feet. He then lifts Martyn’s arm over his shoulder, supporting him. “I got you, buddy,” he says gently. “I got you.”

Martyn lets out another quiet sigh. He still can’t believe he and his friend are both alive and relatively unharmed, but he’s unspeakably grateful for it nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

[restapesta]

😠 (I love me some jealous hoes eheh 💙)

"So, uh, who are you texting?"

The question was supposed to come across as just a nonchalant inquiry, but the way Ian's fiddling with his phone, the screen blank and reflecting his slightly worried face, he fears it really didn't.

Mickey looks up from next to him on the couch. Usually, Ian would just lean over his shoulder and look—fuck, he had literally tried that not too long ago, but Mickey was obviously keen on shooing him away this time, tilting the phone out of sight.

It isn't as if Ian has doubts about who Mickey's so rapidly texting. It's definitely not another guy—as far as Ian's knowledge goes, Mickey really doesn't know or like anybody Ian himself doesn't—but there's just some weird part of Ian's brain telling him he needs to know.

Who the fuck is Mickey texting at eight in the evening, and why is there a smile on his face, and why is he chuckling every few minutes, and why is he blowing out irritated breaths between the sounds of him taking a screenshot, and why in the fucking hell are Ian's fists clenching in irritation?

Mickey looks up briefly, eyes flickering over Ian who's desperately trying to school his expression into unworried and totally, not at all, jealous.

It obviously doesn't work because Mickey just huffs out a laugh.

"Calm down, Tough guy. I'm just texting my sister."

That gives Ian a pause.

"You're texting Mandy?"

Mickey nods, fingers darting across the phone keyboard at rapid speed. "Yup." It's so simple. Said in such a simple matter, like that does literally anything to slow down Ian's heart and ease the constricting of his lungs.

He supposes it should calm him down. To basically tell his brain that, no, Mickey really isn't cracking jokes with any other dudes, and he isn't hiding any secrets or doing illegal shit behind his back. Instead, a lump appears in his throat, and a new feeling settles into his chest—and it's less of worry and more of anger.

He hasn't had an actual long, rapid-texting-and-laughing-out-loud conversation with Mandy since back in the day before everything went to shit. Not even after they reconnected sometime before the wedding, just enough for her to decline the invitation.

"She texted you again?"

Mickey looks up. "You know we've been in touch since I got out of prison, right?"

Of course Ian fucking knows that. He considers his options; whether or not he should just tell Mickey that he feels kind of sad that Mandy really doesn't want to keep in touch with him and it's making him jealous when he sees her texting Mickey, or if he should just bite his tongue.

"She never texts me." He finally concedes, plopping down onto the couch next to Mickey. He casts a glance towards the screen, the brightness turned up to the max.

He adds, worry overpowering anything else, "Your eyes will go to shit, by the way, if you keep going like that. You already have prescription glasses that you don't wanna wear."

Mickey rolls his eyes. "Okay, mom."

With a slight pinch to Mickey's bicep, Ian leans back against the couch, head going down on his husband's shoulder.

"Does Mandy really not want to talk to me anymore? I mean, we used to be best friends and shit. I helped her hide a fucking body. I just... I don't know why she never texts me."

Mickey sighs, phone down in his lap. When Ian looks up, he sees him looking...

Guilty?

Ian straightens, eyes squinting.

"What, Mickey?"

A pause.

"You have to promise not to get mad, okay?" He starts, phone discarded on the cushions and buzzing with incoming messages. "And you also have to understand that I am completely, one-hundred percent right about all of this."

Ian levels him with a look. "What did you do?"

Mickey blows out a breath, and then, as if deciding something, slouches back into the cushion and starts talking, face expression indicative that it's, "Really not a big deal, okay? Just something that happened."

"That has to do with Mandy not texting me?"

Mickey shrugs, eyes avoiding Ian's. "Maybe."

"Oh my God, what did you tell her?"

Mickey doesn't reply.

"What? What could you have possibly said to her?"

Mandy already knows everything. She knew about the bipolar, about Ian's fuck ups, about who he is. She knows about their marriage, their relationship as a whole. What could have Mickey possibly said to make her never want to talk to him again? To limit all of their conversations to happy birthday messages and occasional checkups.

"Mickey, I'm gonna ask you one more time. What did you—,"

"Oh, would you stop, for the love of God!?" He gets up suddenly, facing Ian who's still sitting on the couch, eyes wide. "I was jealous, okay!?"

Ian's brain struggles to catch up. "You were... Jealous?"

"Mandy's like, completely fucking in love with you!" He talks animatedly, hands going all around his body as he explains. "And I couldn't have a single conversation after prison without her talking about how amazing you are, and perfect and hot and kind, and I got fucking sick of her talking about my boyfriend like it's her crush! It isn't fucking normal, Ian!"

"So you told her..."

"I told her not to talk to or about you ever again or I'd make her life living hell." He shrugs like it's no big fucking deal.

"You threatened your sister for being my best friend?" And to think Ian was jealous.

"She's had you for the beginning of our relationship. And she was completely in love with you back then too!"

"She was in love with Lip."

"See?" Mickey points out. "That's as close as she got to you!"

Before Ian even gets a chance to reply, Mickey's phone is ringing with an incoming Facetime call.

From Mandy.

The phone is next to Ian, a simple grasp away—but Mickey's looking between the two, and it's obvious, so fucking obvious, that there is no way in hell he'll let Ian answer the phone.

"Don't you dare," He whispers.

They look at each other for one, two, three—

They both lunge for the phone at the same time, and both unceremoniously fall onto the floor, rolling as they try to get it in their hands—Ian to answer to call, Mickey to end it.

Except they accidentally answer it in the first place.

"Is that some new position you guys are trying out? Dry humping and shit?"

Mandy's voice is distorted and breaking, the wifi connection absolute shit, but Ian's face lights up with a smile as he pushes Mickey off of him and grabs onto the phone, facing the camera. His hair is disheveled, strands poking out as if he's just had sex, hair-pulling and all.

There's no fucking way Mickey has Mandy all to herself, that jealous motherfucker.

Mandy's looking beautiful. Literally stunning.

"What's up with you guys?" She asks.

"Mandy," Ian says, voice accusing. "You really that scared of Mickey that you actually listened to his threat about not talking to me?"

Mickey narrows his eyes at him. Calls him a bitch.

"What?" He hears her ask.

"Mickey told you not to text me and you actually listened!"

The three of them are silent for a moment.

And then, Mandy laughs so fucking loud that it sounds through their entire apartment.

Ian and Mickey look at each other, confused, as Mandy tries to catch her breath.

"Uh..."

"You jealous dumbasses! I can't believe you guys!" She says, tears falling down her face. "Of course I didn't listen to Mickey's threat! Bitches, neither of you talk to me as much as you should! I'll start texting you when you start texting me!"

Ian looks at his husband again, asking a silent question. Mickey just shrugs.

"But, you were literally just texting Mickey!"

"Jealous bitch," He hears Mickey whisper under his breath.

Mandy tilts the phone so her whole upper body is in view. She's still laughing, small giggles escaping past her lips. Ian forgets how much he misses them.

"I was texting Mick 'cause I needed to get your address for the anniversary gift I'm finally sending you!" She wipes at her eyes, fixing up her shirt simultaneously. "We can't figure any of this shit out, and he refuses to ask you to come help!"

Ian looks at his husband. Whispers, "Jealous bitch." Mickey flips him off.

The two finally lock eyes. The rage that had been bubbling up inside Ian's chest dissipates into nothing. They're both dumbasses. They keep staring.

"Okaaay," Ian hears Mandy through the phone. He doesn't look away from Mickey. "You guys are looking at each other all weird and I don't wanna be a part of that shit." There's shuffling on her end. "Call me when you're done fucking. I still need to figure out that address shit!"

Before either of them can say anything, she hangs up.

There's a moment where they just stew in their revelations. Ian asks first.

"Jealous of me and Mandy?" He quirks an eyebrow.

"You jealous of me and Mandy?" Mickey bites back.

They stare for another second.

"You think we don't text her enough?"

Mickey shrugs. "We could do it together? Make her the third wheel."

They stare. Mickey looks at him softly.

Ian jumps Mickey first.

Mandy was fucking right about the look.