#hi guys i'm having a really wild time but trust me i never stop thinking about ships and whatnot i'm always here mentally

[tracksdowna]

can you believe the scorpion is dating the most powerful woman in the city (betty brant)

[hoseoksluna]

A CELEBRATION OF 2K FOLLOWERS — PLEASANT, GOOD AND MERCIFUL | jjk

pairing: non-idol!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader 

genre: smut, angst, fluff — the whole package

word count: 8.9k

summary: jungkook wanted to make the night better for you—but what he didn't expect is that he would come across his true, unabashed self while doing so.

taglist: join | cp: wattpad, ao3

warnings: jungkook, physical violence, jungkook is wearing that mesh top and that exact outfit (god, help me) and he's horny (god, help me again), abandonment issues, dissociation, panic mode, fear, swear words, dom/sub dynamics, protected sex, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat:), teasing, pda, jungkook smokes and jungkook uses his busan accent (you have been warned), religion, praying, anxiety, hyper-independence, trust issues, begging, a little bit of a praise kink — barely, cowgirl:).

note: because we hit 2k incredible followers, i prepared this for you, my babies. a full fucking package of drama, smut, angst and fluff—all from jungkook's own pov!!!!! this is all for you bc i love you sm. thank you, guys, so much for being here with me, sticking around and reading my stupid fics. enjoy this one shot and let me know what you think. i'm sending you so many kisses until you get sick of me. seriously. i won't stop. i love you. MWAHMWAHMWAHMWAHMHWA.

It is a lucid dream, really, the way the lustrous colors of the fireworks bloom across the charcoal sky. They intertwine with the darkened clouds, like vines of wild flowers, that try and fail to remain hidden and Jungkook thinks you burst with even richer, emotive colors. 

With your kaleidoscopic glitter on the high points of your cheeks, and the tiny stars that you stuck on each arch of your brow. 

He can feel the vibration of the deep bass, belonging to the music, coursing down your chest as he stands behind you, drifting his hands down the upper half of your body while the rest of the strangers are hypnotized by the rapper on stage that he has very little knowledge of. The reason why he paid for the tickets, pumped a full tank of gas, drove you all the way to the countryside outside of the normality of your daily life and never let go of your hand—despite the fact they grew uncomfortably clammy due to the stifling heat—was because you loved the man. The vulgar headliner, whose lyrics nearly made his eyes fall out of his sockets once he fully and consciously listened to the songs that you always sing when you do your makeup or hum at random times when you’re doing your own thing. 

And what’s worse, it made his dick hard when he heard you scream out the swear words and the filthy imagery painted in the vivaciousness of the songs.

You, who scarcely cursed. 

Who omitted the vulgarity when rapping along. 

He doesn’t think he ever caught those words coming out of your mouth. Not even when he was balls-deep in you. 

Multiple times. 

It had only been four months ago when he found you and his long silent heart gained your voice. It was the sweetest, most languid sound that ever graced his ears and in an instant, you became a fleshly sanctuary of serenity. One he would find himself needing more often than he liked because the truth is—Jungkook doesn’t date. 

He considers relationships an unnecessary house of pain. If he spends a long time there, he forgets what the outside world looks like. Forgets how to get home. Forgets the roads and the rules and moralities of life and society because, deep down, he lets go of himself for the girl. 

He would kill a soul if she found herself needing it. Or at least destroy one so she would have a peace of mind. 

Break hands and break noses of people who looked at her wrong. 

That’s who he is and as much as he tried to change it, he failed every time. Failed like the clouds up above. His effort to stay hidden from you vanished into thin air because you would invariably find him and his heart would start praying with your voice. The pathetic thing would beg for mercy from the world. His knees would wobble and he’d let them sink right in front of you—all because of your deeply inert calmness and briskness that would, strangely, pour the nectar of mollification over his bloodstream. 

And he gave in to you because you didn’t ask, nor expect, anything from him. 

You didn’t do what the others did. 

You were independent and so full of life, of a different world, one he wanted to take a peek inside. 

And what he didn’t predict was that the road would be molded for his feet. And once he kissed you and learned the ins and outs of your intellect and the chambers of your heart, he still remembered the streets that line the outside world—its names, even. He remembered the address of his own apartment building, the number to his door and to the pass code. 

And so did you. 

You didn’t ask him to kill for you. And you didn’t ask him for tickets to see your favorite artists. 

He did it because he unreservedly loved you. 

And here you are, giggling, rubbing your little ass up against his groin and he detects happiness prickling his nerve endings. His hands are enveloped, snugly, as if no one was around and the artists traveled across the country for you, around your waist while your hands are up in the air, pointed fingers erect, dipping up and down to the rhythm of the music. 

And what he could never predict, not even in a million years—he’s enjoying himself. Feels the traces of the same vibrations ricocheting off your back into his chest, where the song enlivens him. 

He’s enjoying himself because you are enjoying yourself, brimming with elation and the radiance of your smile as you laugh, dance and scream out curse words that he’s equally enjoying hearing. 

Jungkook makes a mental note to pull those sounds out of you later in the early hours. 

And then you turn around, surprising him. You cup the side of his neck while you point that index finger in his face, screaming out the lyrics. And Jungkook regards it so overwhelming that he can only stare. Doesn’t know the lyrics to scream them back at you and make your experience better, but he’s learning them as he’s consuming them from you, his eyes tracing over each movement of your mouth that engraves them in his brain. He feels your hips moving under his palm at the bottom of your spine and when you roll your body forward, colliding into his like a star that meets its lover once only to never see it again, and brush your lips against his—he’s so horny and so in love with you that his eyes wet, his emotions rushing in and clouding his sight. 

The background fades out, fully, into the charcoal of the night, the colored lights softening and it’s just you that is the distribution of incandescence for the people present—and for him. And then you go down, dragging your hands down his stomach and his thighs, only to spring right up, grab his hips and make that collision happen—against the laws of the universe. 

A different star. A special one. 

Out of his darkened peripheral view, he can sense the audience having a way better time than they did before you turned around to face him. But Jungkook doesn’t give a fuck. 

Not when his cock is so tight in his pants. 

Thankfully, you’re obscuring it with the shape of your delightful body. He thinks he’s going to run with you to his car, pump more adrenaline into your body, so you can refresh the drowsy grass with a pristine layer of dew through the sound of your laughter. He also wonders if you’re wet yourself underneath that gray dress of yours and just as he’s about to lean over and yell that question into your ear, you turn around and get ready for the next song. 

And catch the glance of some guy to your right as you do. Jungkook grits his jaw because you linger for a second longer that he doesn’t particularly like.

A certain fever poisons his veins, but at the same time he feels the pinpricks of a cold sweat at the top of his spine. Who the fuck does he think he is, staring at his girl like that? 

But when he follows that line of the half broken gaze, he finds the guy’s slender face scrunched up in disgust. 

Oh, Jungkook might be ready to throw some hands and get him kicked out of this place, tell the cops it was all him so you can continue enjoying yourself in his arms. He’s seen some people sticking their tongues down their partner’s throat and he’s giving you a dirty look for dancing? 

This can easily be his very last night alive. 

Instinctively, Jungkook bunches up his fists and he’s ready to go after him, but you scream out and emit out your excitement, taking a deep breath to go absolutely mad as the rapper begins to perform the song that he’s heard you jamming out to the most. You take his hands, beaming at him from behind, and uncurl them on your tummy. Your glance was too brief and there’s still a furrow to his brows and now he worries you think he’s being a buzzkill. He doesn’t want to ruin the night for you, so he draws in closer to the crook of your neck and begins to dance, softly, with you. Your hands intertwine with his and you bang them in the air, jumping up and down at the bridge of the song that the headliner hypes up. 

And then you’re singing in a different language and he’s done for, his heart tightening in his chest. The one he’s heard your mother talk in over the phone while you replied in English. Jungkook squeezes you so hard and you let him, your smile growing. Your voice is more throatier and low-pitched and Jungkook senses your foreignness swathing his cock and he knows there’s a bigger tent in his pants. He presses it against you, makes you feel it and you throw your delicious ass. 

His eyes nearly go cross-eyed as he rolls them back, tilting his head. The wind sweeps across the sweat of his exposed forehead, sifting through his hair and he can’t wait any longer. Desire has overpowered the poison in his veins in such a mighty way and he begins to stand in the middle of a crossroad. 

Wait forty five minutes until the rapper finishes the show and then get stuck in the crowd as everyone tries to leave at once. 

Or wait two more minutes and then bolt to the car to fuck your brains out. There’s a higher chance you and him won’t be caught sinning in the backseat. It’s midnight and the villagers are asleep. And in the forty minutes, while everyone enjoys the last show, he can make you come so many times and ascertain that your experience will be heightened and ultimately better. 

He’s also sure you’ll be able to hear him—if he leaves the window open a little bit. 

He’s ready to turn you around, the decision throbbing in his sternum, but you make the move first. Swiveling on your feet, your body faces him, though your head doesn’t. Once again, he follows your gaze. You scowl at the guy, your brows knitting and your glossy mouth rounding before moving into the shape of the lyrics. You throw a dirty look his way one last time and Jungkook laughs in pride, his heart constricting in the love he bears for you, and he pulls you in, disposed to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck and open your mouth just as he kisses you—and it’s you who darts out their tongue, rolling it against his. Jungkook squeezes your bum, slapping it gently—and it’s simultaneous the way you and him both peek at the guy’s reaction. 

The fucker is grinning. 

You give him a vulgar gesture, the moonless blue light enveloping around your middle finger. 

Jungkook laughs so hard that heads turn in his direction and he’s fucking delighted. You devour it with your mouth, sucking his lips so intensely that he stops breathing. He senses you sealing it in him and he can’t wait any longer. 

He needs you and he tells you. 

Breaking the lip lock, he peppers kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear, wafting his hot breath there. He feels the gooseflesh on your arm right upon his ear, too, and electricity courses down his stomach. Fuck, he loves it so much. Thinks you’re so incredible and he wants to fuck that fact into your guts. 

“Let’s get out of here. I want you,” he rasps, drifting his hand up your bum to the ends of your hair, bunching them in his fist. “I want to give you this dick. You deserve it.” 

You suck in a harsh breath and withdraw to look at him. He bites his lip at the way his words painted a palette of such flushed beauty on your face, using colors this festival has never fucking seen. And his mouth ends rise in a prideful smile, not for his ability, but for your body. For the way it’s able to react to him so wonderfully. 

And he blushes when you begin to mouth the lyrics again while dipping to the seat of the amphitheater and sliding his blazer over his shoulders. 

He knows why you did that. 

And you validate his knowledge when you take his hand and lead him away from the concert, keeping close to him just to be cautious. 

You did it to camouflage the evidence of his arousal for you. 

And when you walk by the guy, you let go of his hand. Throw both middle fingers in his face. “You wish you had someone to leave with, huh?” 

The fucker puts his dirty hand on you, stopping you from walking away, and Jungkook doesn’t fucking hesitate. Like a bolt of lightning, he grabs his collar and fumes in his face. 

“What makes you fucking think you can touch my girl, huh? Juk go sip na?” he snarls, shaking him, his Busan dialect impulsively spilling out, darkening his voice and the latter question—‘Do you want to die?’ He watches a tendril of challenge line his eyes with murkiness and what happens next is too fast. 

Too fast for his liking. 

Knuckles collide with his cheek and at the rapid, unexpected and jarring contact, his lip ring cuts his gums. Jungkook grunts at the twinge that overpowers the throbbing on the side of his face, metal percolating through the aftertaste in his mouth, but he doesn’t let go of the guy’s shirt. In fact, he tightens his hold. Seethes. Is about to push him off and leave before things get even uglier, but then he feels your hands on his back and his heart stops, your voice mute, despite the fact your whole face twists in fear and is smeared with harrowing emotions that he’s never seen on you. Shrinks at the sight of your wet, bulging eyes. Of one singular tear grazing your lower lashes in a caress before plopping onto the wildflower meadow of the glitter on your cheek. 

“Get back,” he tells you, despite the swelling of his own emotions at your state of mind. But you don’t comply in time, unclench your fist and step back because far too soon, in the middle of the distraction, another collision bursts in this impenetrable darkness. 

Falling into you or falling for you even deeper, he can’t tell the difference within the numbing pain and his temper coaxes his exceedingly too easy tears to blur his vision. You don’t topple back on your hands, for Jungkook catches you in time with a strength that you somehow help him remember that he possesses. From the force of the guy’s jab, he was only pushed into you, but it doesn’t diminish the grave mistake he made. 

One he will pay for. 

Straightening you, Jungkook guides you towards the edge of the amphitheater and you step back, at last, startled. Turning around, he swings his fist into the guy’s face and he whimpers like a little bitch. 

One hit for your dignity. 

A second one for your tears. 

And the guy would’ve received a third and a fourth one had he not been held back by different pairs of arms all of a sudden. But he shakes them off. Pushes the guy back to his seat. He lands awkwardly on his tailbone with a hard thud and moans in pain. Suits him right for thinking he’s allowed to touch you, make you cry and remain unharmed. 

Jungkook shakes his head, his chest rising with heavy breaths and numbing, adrenaline-infused fury. “Sit here and keep your fucking hands to yourself, gaesaekki. Who the fuck do you think you are, making my girl cry by hitting me?” 

The music cuts out and the rapper hollers. Jungkook turns around and finds all of the attention of the audience and the headliner on him. Doesn’t want to put you on the spot like that, so he rolls his eyes in annoyance, finds your rounded ones and tips his chin further towards the exit, signaling to you to walk that way, so no one gets to look at you. You’re still standing by the edge of the amphitheater with your tear-stained cheeks and his heart aches, though once he sees that you’re covered by the shadows, he lifts a palm towards the stage and strides off, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you towards the grassy hill. 

People are fucking testing him and he’s not in the mood. Not in the slightest. 

He’d go with his original plan—take your hand and run with you to his car, but he needs to cool off. His anger is sapping all the delight he gained from your microcosm of joy and he doesn’t want to ruin the night more than he already has. Jungkook curls an arm around your neck, tugging you flush to his side as you strut together with no one around. Lifts your chin so he can inspect how you’re feeling on your face. 

Your cheeks are glimmering, damply, carmine in the yellow light, accompanied by the faint burn of the stars up above, but your eyes have lost their great spark and you’re no longer beaming. They trace over his deadened cheek and mouth and you whimper, stopping dead in your tracks and burying your face in his chest. You wrap your arms around his middle, a hand stroking his back—and Jungkook feels himself drifting to a state of coma. The rapper’s lines decline the harder you nuzzle your face in his mesh-clad pecs and he can’t move his own hands, can’t hug you back, his panic cascading down his sternum, which he senses your warm weight upon. A ringing noise fills his ears, but he can’t wilt. He has to put you first and make things right. 

But his body doesn’t listen. 

He wills strength into his muscles, lifting his head towards the unmerciful heavens and letting your voice sound out his prayer. You evidently need physical support and emotional reassurement and he can’t give that to you out of his own weakened will. Not when he needs it so despairingly and eminently because he’s hollowed out on the inside. Not when he can’t hear a damn thing owing to the ringing in his ears. 

He can’t ask you for help, so he lets you pray through his heart to his father’s God. 

But nothing happens.

Radio silence. 

White noise. 

A feeble, miniature whine loosens from him. He’s not sure if you heard it and he hopes you didn’t, and for that sole reason—he does the unthinkable. 

He begins to pray with his own voice. 

Because there’s nothing else to do. 

Give me strength. To be there for her and not mess this up more than I already have. Fix me for her and help me make this night better for her. 

The tiniest of lights against your face unbolts ajar in him, vines of the flowers of mitigation blooming from that sliver of open space—right into his arms that abruptly lift and wrap around your shoulders, pulling you as close as humanly possible. 

The ringing lessens. 

And then his lips move. 

He kisses your forehead, dwelling there for a moment, basking in the fact that his prayer worked, and mentally, he ejects the trepidation and agitation away and out of his system, though the fear loiters in his ribcage. The fear that the mistake he made is unfixable. And there’s no thrumming of the bass to distract it. 

What’s worse, his lower regions still ask for a release. He might not be as hard as he was, but the pressure of an ungratified arousal still palpitates in his groin. The unlit disorder of his feelings encourages the blood to pump his cock erect, slowly, and his breath quivers—as well as his body. 

The shakes are back. He knows them, intimately, from his past relationships. Feels the long-gone ghost of abandonment catching up to him—and he fears, terribly, that you’ve somehow learned its ways and you’re about to use them on him because of the way he ruined your night. Cover him from head to toe until his mind numbs and he forgets, foolishly, the direction to his home. 

To solitude. 

He lets go of you and nudges you towards his car. Lets you walk the rest of the short way. But he notices that your forehead, the place he poured his frail love upon, is smudged with blots of blood, the little stars on the arches of your brows crooked and devalued. He’s barely able to get out a cigarette out of his pack and place it in the center of his parted lips, his heart cracking and turning painfully. Though, somehow he does it—he gnites it to life, takes a big drag and hides his hands behind his back. Hides his shakes away from you. Because it’s easier to ruin yourself than it is to give. 

You don’t know about them. And in the four months he’s been dating you, he didn’t have a reason to tell you about them. Thought they were lost for all eternity, the tables turned—them forgetting about him. 

But now he realizes how naive he was. Begs his shoulder to stop trembling from the impact of his deeply-embossed issues. Wishes they were as beautiful as you when you gaze back at him with the weight of your love and he feels it, swiveling to lean against the side of his car. 

It’s a life jacket that straps him down. Abates his shakes. And he’s able to take another drag, pursing his lips in a small ‘O’ when he exhales the smoke, so it doesn’t get near you. 

Your hands are behind your back, too. They support your tailbone against the solidness of the vehicle. It reminds him that he’s glad he hurt the guy, but now he wishes that you weren’t such a delicious brat because he could’ve made you happier and pinker with the amount of orgasms he would’ve given you. Would’ve driven you home and washed you clean. Would’ve made you a late night snack to bed and held you while you replayed the songs in your head. 

Nevertheless, it’s him who needs to be held. 

Foolish, his sensitivity. Another thing you don’t know about. And he’s not too sure, at this very moment, if he’s able to let you in this closely. Let you hold him and stop, ultimately, his shakes. The fear of possibly letting that happen, only to get left behind after, paralyzes him on the spot and even though he can’t breathe, he still manages to flick the ash off his cigarette and puff on it, desperately. Needs the smoke to hold him down, mollify the raging disorder in him—the macrocosm that is too gritty and stony for your delicate feet. 

He allows a full, audible sigh to leave him and he hangs his head, but he shouldn’t have done that. 

Because he divulged to you how fucked up he is. 

You lift a hand to him. “Come here, Oppa.” 

But he can’t. He can’t get close. His legs are numb and the thick-soled boots his feet are shod in are too heavy. His fear keeps them planted that safe distance apart. And Jungkook plays it cool. Licks his lips, lifts his head and sucks on his cigarette. Feels something dripping down his jaw and he wipes his hand on the bone. His cheeks hollow out and the smoke gets in his eyes, stinging them, blurring the spots of blood on his fingers

A different type of wetness coats them now. 

“You wanna go home?” he asks, then cringes at his stupid words. The smoke makes zig zag patterns in the air as his hands shake harder. And then the breath he takes is too difficult. His chin wobbles, the tears rush in and he can’t stop it. “They’re still—” A soft sigh, a whimper. His breathing speeds up because it seems as though his lungs ask for too much air and he can’t inhale enough of it. The tears threaten to pour out and crown his fear. Ruin his life. But he keeps going as if nothing is happening. “Making hot dogs in that food stand over there. The night’s not over.”

And then he’s sobbing, sinking to his knees as his legs give out under all that weight of his issues compressing him. The cigarette burns on the concrete, as abandoned as he soon will be. And his hands feel the rough material of his jeans, needing something to bring him back to a painless reality. He’s tasting blood and the fumes of the smoke and then he sees your sneakers in front of his knees, the pink Calvin Klein shoes that he bought you last week, and he sits back, feels his head being lifted, feels himself being pushed to a point of absolute submission. 

And that’s not something he’s able to stop either. 

You sit down on his thighs, sinking your fingers behind his ears and into his hair, forcing him to look at you and he has to blink multiple times in order for his sight to clear up. Sees, while he whimpers pathetically, his bloodstained, fearful girl seeing him. The real him. The flawed, broken him. 

“Gguk, Ggukie, what’s happening? Talk to me, baby, please.” 

He only sobs. Can’t get a word out. Because you’re here and you’re going to leave him—now that you’ve seen that he’s not a half of the man you pertain him to be. That he’s weak, pathetic and emotional. That he has problems that he doesn’t like to talk about. Unresolved issues that will affect you and guide you out of his life. 

You press him to your neck, holding him to you, and you shush him, gently, rocking him from side to side. Run your wet hand up his hair on the back of his head while the other one rubs large circles on his back. The light opens wider in him—and as he listens to the lullaby of your voice, it distracts him from the fear. It stills the ringing in his ears and blesses his arms with strength that he uses, without thinking, to wrap around you. 

Something lukewarm plops onto the side of his aching cheek as he, little by little, calms down, and he realizes it’s your precious tears. The salt to his wound. 

You’ve cried too much when you should’ve been laughing so hard that you’d be sick from it. 

“What happened? Tell me.” 

Your hand caresses his bad cheek, careful around the bump that your feather-light touch traces, and it’s how he finds out it’s even there. He finds out his bleeding is from his mouth because you wipe at it and clean your fingers on your dress. And then you’re back to stroking his hair, your long fingernails scratching, tenderly, his scalp, spreading alleviation down his body. 

You’re patient and gentle, tolerant and kind, despite the fact you deserve an explanation and he’s unable to give it to you. 

It’s what makes his rationality snap back to normalcy and he tugs your dress down, withdrawing from you and helping you stand to your feet. He’s here to make your night better, not unleash his problems at you. He takes your purse dangling from your hand, replacing it with his palm, and hauls you towards his car. 

But you stay put and he bounces back to you as if he were on a leash. 

And maybe he is—because you stayed at the horrendous scene of his worst. Bound to you in a way that he’s too drowsy to comprehend. Even his fear is tired, scurrying away to some shadowed corner of his soul, instead of attacking him and remaking the scene. 

“Give me my purse back and let me buy you that hot dog,” you say, with a hint of a remarkable harshness that makes him submit to you on a higher level. Something positive that he can’t pinpoint breezes through his clavicles and he wipes his knuckles across his eyes, shyness encasing him like steel—like a shield, giving him the hope that maybe, just maybe, he can overcome this with you. 

You didn’t leave. You didn’t disappear. You didn’t wrinkle your nose. 

You held him. Cleaned the blood off his mouth. Put him, somehow, back together like a puzzle piece. Knew how to do it without needing to look at the full picture. 

He hands you the chain strap of your purse—and it’s more of a symbol of his submission to you. Of the acquiescence and the meekness that you seeped into his pores by your touch. And, oddly, he feels whole. 

His walls are broken down, but he feels whole. Confident, soft, and manly. 

Because he has you and you’re here to take care of him. 

You’re quick on your feet as you yank him by the two of his fingers. He follows behind you, but all he can look at is your pendulous, brown, leather purse, suspended from your small hand, and how that shift of the dynamic in yours and his relationship occurred by that exchange. How it’s felicitous, pretty and sturdy. How he can come back to it and remember it—if he ever wavers. Remember that it’s the cure to his shakes. 

Letting himself be taken care of by you. 

The festival has ended and the ladies at the food stand are packing up to leave. It overwhelms him how much time his issues have stolen, but when he watches you go from nice to bratty in a millisecond, convincing them to make that last hot dog from him because he feels faint and needs some greasy food in order to get home and they comply, his love for you rises sky-high. Your own expression of love for him tidies up the debris from his broken walls and he’s so warm all over that he feels as though he’ll explode. 

You pay for the hot dog and leave a huge tip, thanking them with a smile that makes his heart quiver in a way that is pleasant, good and merciful. You hand it to him and it’s another exchange that wets his eyes, that makes him dip to your mouth and give you a chaste kiss that you more than deserve. You coo, deeply, into the kiss, and it’s a sound that he’s never heard from you. A dominant, prideful sound that stirs the butterflies in his stomach that carry your name on their wings to beat so ferociously that he can’t breathe. 

In a different way now. Pleasant, good and merciful. 

You walk away from the stand and sit with him on the sidewalk. Jungkook lets you have the first bite, sliding your leg over his as he holds the hot dog to your mouth. People are exiting the amphitheater in hefty crowds, but he doesn’t care. Can’t peel his eyes off of you as you open your mouth as wide as you can and take a big bite, whining and fanning your mouth due to how boiling hot it is. He can see the half chewed up sausage on your tongue and if he didn’t love you, he’d look away now, but he can’t because he does love you and your secret, indecent ways enthrall him enough that he can’t help but to kiss you again. Kiss the ketchup and mustard off of your upper lip. Clean you up like you cleaned up his debris. Blow on the sausage in your mouth a little to make you laugh and you do more than that. You chortle so hard that you nearly choke on it and he laughs, too, strangely. 

Thinks the hot dog is the best one he has had in a long time solely because you had that first bite. 

It fuels him with energy, yet he feels lightweight. Feels as though everything’s going to be okay, despite the fact those issues in him are a persisting threat and they can be triggered anytime. But something tells him you can handle it. 

You weren’t afraid to throw your middle fingers in a guy’s face because he had a problem with your public display of affection. Weren’t afraid of Jungkook’s ugliness. Weren’t afraid to fight the ladies so you could fill up his stomach with his favorite food. 

You can handle it. 

It’s all he thinks about as he drives you to his apartment with his hand on your thigh. 

And it’s all he thinks about when he kneels before you while he takes off your sneakers and lingers there, scattering kisses just below the hem of your dress. And you know where this is going because you pull him back by his hair and as he looks up at you like this, a peasant to a queen, his heart hammers so intensively that all he wants to do is cry while he makes love to you. 

He came across his salvation—in the worst of it all. 

“Let me clean you up,” you hush out, and Jungkook doesn’t understand because you already have. Internally. And outwardly all the same. He can’t postpone this any longer. He has to give back to you, give you his gratitude on a silver platter. He needs to do it because if he doesn’t, he’ll crumble. 

“No,” he rasps in a whisper, closing his mouth over the inner of your thigh, placing a singular kiss there before he returns his gaze back to you. “Let me, please.” 

Maybe you can see his desperation in the glossiness of his eyes and it awakens your pity for him, for in a blink you nod, and for the second time today—he doesn’t hesitate to do the next thing. He fists the fabric of your dress and yanks it up over your tummy, nuzzling his nose into your clothed mound. Pink, like your sneakers. 

He inhales you. Inhales the beginning of your arousal—and the beginning of a brand new scene that will color his life in a soft manner. 

Dragging the waistband of your panties down your legs, he tosses them on top of your shoes. Yearns for your legs to part your royalty for him and in order for that to happen, he carries you, bridal-style, over to the white of his bedding. Pretends it’s clouds that he’s laying you down upon because he’s about to make sure he’ll bring heaven down to you. 

The heaven that helped him give back to you earlier in his worst. 

He hooks his fingers under your socks and slides them off, one by one. Makes you sit up to rid you of your dress. Ruins your ponytail in the process, but he quickly fixes it by lugging your hair tie down your length, rubbing his blood away on your forehead with his saliva-coated thumb once he places you back down. 

And it’s not an expression of his dominance, the way he disburdened you from the daytime. That has long ceased to exist in him since that exchange. 

It’s an expression of his servitude to you. 

Of his lessening and your heightening. 

And it’s pleasant, good and merciful. It doesn’t feel as though he’s giving all of himself. On the contrary, it feels as though he has just discovered his true self. 

He won’t forget the address of his home because he’s not staying over anywhere. 

He is at home. 

And your folds revealing your royalty as he spreads your legs is the feeling of homeliness. His mouth on your warm, swollen clit is the epitome of all domesticity and the only thing he can fear at this very moment is his future homesickness if he rips his mouth off your cunt. 

And you getting wet so easily just from being taken care of like a queen confirms and validates all that he’s feeling. 

And he lets you know. 

Peasants are savages and he eats your pussy like it. Sucks on your clit with a verve that surprises him and makes his cock tight uncomfortably in his pants, especially when you make those deep, guttural noises of yours. You’re not the soft girl he knew that omitted swear words in her favorite filthy songs. You’re a vulgar woman, rolling her hips into his mouth as he lets you use his tongue. 

And he stops—just to beg for those words. 

“Let me hear you swear for me, please.” 

You whimper, flopping into the mattress, only to raise your torso using your elbows. You grip the hair on the back of his neck and hump his mouth, but then you suck in a breath and draw back, sobered up all of a sudden. 

“Does your lip hurt?” you ask, rounding your brows in pity and Jungkook’s heart quickens at the portrayal of your care towards him. His senses flick to that faint throbbing on the side of his pierced lip and he perceives that he forgot about his physical pain. His cheek throbs as well, but it’s all bearable. 

You help him remember. 

“It doesn’t hurt, baby.” 

But the hand that gripped his hair slides over to his lip, caressing it with a thumb. “But it’s swollen. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He also remembers that he was bleeding from the same place and he checks your folds if he spattered them. With the same digit, he runs it over them, finding no taints of it. Sends a quick, internal thank you to God. 

You’re pure—he doesn’t want to mar you. 

“You’re not hurting me. You’re saving me,” he utters without a breath, the words more raw than anything he’s ever said to you, alongside his first, secretly sensitive I love you. And while he doesn’t let his lungs lift, you inhale all of the air for him, wafting it over him as you pout ever so slightly. And then you caress him—the good side of his face and he does something he’s never expected to do. 

He invites you in. 

Rests his head on the apex of your thigh while you continue to brush your hand in circles. Over his cheekbone, his temple, long strands of hair and ear. An ouroboros of love so unsullied and intact that the world’s upcoming destruction could never afflict it, never even come near it. Jungkook pushes your leg back and darts out his tongue. Mirrors your circles over your clit and the gentleness he uses to do it with pull such alluring moans from the bottom of your throat that he’s nearly at the peak of his own orgasm. 

And it just makes him hungrier. 

He turns you over to your side and closes that leg of yours over his head. Flattens his tongue over your clit and eats it like his life depends on it, one hand holding yours while the other slips to your heat, rubbing the hole until you go mad. And he’s not holding your hand to keep you bound. He’s holding your hand to keep his sanity and not come in his pants like a boy. 

You move your hips so his fingers enter you and you scream out at the sudden fullness. Jungkook drips in sweat, your walls slowly stretching around him sending tingles down his spine, and he’s moaning when you fuck yourself on his digits. 

It doesn’t take long for you to come. 

It is the final piece to your own puzzle and your orgasm thunders through you, the swear words tumbling out of your mouth like refreshing raindrops. You interweave them into his name, adorning it, making it prettier, and Jungkook is so overwhelmed with pleasure that all he can do is suck on your clit until you convulse so hard that you can’t take it anymore.

You may have lost your spark earlier, but now that you’ve come so magnificently, you’ve become it. The star of light isn’t something that gets attached to your eyes whenever you’re happy anymore. 

You’re the queen of all firelights and constellations. 

He lets you lie on your side as he hauls himself up to face you. He touches your skin besprinkled with the beads of perspiration, kneading the fleshy parts and ending up at your neck. Your eyes are closed when he reposes his head on his pillow besides yours and he detects his pleasure creating a new kind of joy within him, one that etches a lopsided smile on his face. 

You said the words for him while your orgasm coursed through your body. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Thank you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you with a certain roughness that makes you whine and withdraw. You give him a playful dirty look, fragrant with your love, and Jungkook’s smile deepens. 

“Gentle,” you reprimand, fluttering your eyes back shut. “Don’t be a masochist.” 

He laughs through his nose, his heart constricting, and he kisses you with the gentleness you spoke of just to show you he can do it. 

You hum in appreciation and Jungkook thinks this must be the best day of his life, despite all. 

“There we go,” you praise, sleepily. “Gentle, so your boo-boo doesn’t hurt.” 

He caresses your face in circles in your fashion, watches you visibly relax and your eyes close all the way, your eyelashes brushing against him. His sleep-kissed queen. 

“You wanna sleep?” he asks, fondling the shell of your ear. He doesn’t mind if you’re too tired to take him; he’s willing to study the way your mouth parts and lets out long, restful breaths as you drift off to dreamland. 

He thinks it would be an honor. 

Everything had changed. The way he sees you, the way he loves you, the way he senses yours and his connection. The pupils of his eyes have been purified and he’s acknowledging himself with the ins and outs of his own relationship. 

Everything is new. 

You shake your head, humming out a sound of disagreement. “No, give me a second. You made me come really hard.” 

He nods, even though you can’t see him, and he sifts his fingers through your hair. Trails his kisses from your cheek to your neck and shoulder, dwelling there as you recuperate from your intense orgasm.

And then you’re swinging your leg over and straddling him. Your lids are so heavy from your little eye-shut that he silently coos at you, but your tiredness doesn’t stop you from mouthing kisses down his mesh-clad chest. From unbuckling his belt and freeing him from his pants. The mesh shirt is the only thing you keep on him. You bunch up its hem in your fist, stabilize his cock with your other and you swallow him. 

Not all the way, though. 

You rid him of his sanity because you pop your mouth, over and over, on the tip of his manhood. He feels the sound deep in his groin, right beneath your hand, and his chest can’t help but to shudder with each suction, his face scrunching. He unabashedly whimpers for you and you like his noises so much that you give him what he never asked you for. 

You do take him all the way. 

And your throat is your scent floating through the air of yours and his home. 

Heady, oriental and feminine. 

You slobber all over him, running your tongue sideways upon the veins along his length and Jungkook slinks in and out of his conscience. The pleasure you’re blessing him with brings him to a rose garden when you gag around him. The pink petals tickle his stomach, encouraging his shudders, and all he sees is you in the middle of that garden. A mighty statue of its queen—with a mouthful of cock. 

And then he has to physically pull you away from him because if he felt the tightness of your throat one more time, he’d be spurting ropes of cum down your esophagus. 

You’re feral, staring him down with a maddened smile, returning to your original position on his hips. And as delighted as he is to have you be in charge, he remembers something. 

He hasn’t put a condom on. 

“Wait.” 

Jungkook holds your waist as he rummages in his bedside table and once he finds the package he was looking for and rattles it, he finds it empty. Cold sweat trickles down the back of his neck, but he remembers something else as well. 

“Did you not put it in your purse?” he asks, the scene where he hands you the last square of the rubber for you to keep in your purse in case you get in the mood during the festival shooting out before his eyes. 

You nod. “Yeah, I think so. Can you go get it?” 

He sits up with you and kisses you, gently, prolonging the kiss until you whine and he thinks twice before provoking you. He can’t help it—you just keep saving him. 

Walking through your corridor, he sees your pink sneakers first, embellished with your panties of the same color. A smile tugs at the aching corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t mind. Thinks it heightens the experience. Bending to pick up your brown purse that he set beside your shoes, the time seems to slow down as he’s reminded of the exchange out there in the countryside. The shift of dynamics that liberated him. Jungkook grows emotional, his feelings liquifying and prickling his eyes. 

And it’s automatic and absolutely instinctual—the way he dips his mouth and kisses the leather material. 

Gently. 

Opening it, he fishes out the white square and hangs your purse on the hook among his jackets. Gives it a long, meaningful look before he returns to you. 

And you’re the one who wants to put it on him. You’re so diligent, tugging the peak of the rubber multiple times so you’re unequivocally certain that you did it right. And when you tug him, he whimpers so inferiorly that you emulate his hunger. 

You depict it so eloquently when you fight through your residual overstimulation and sink down on him, little by little. And the more inches your walls squeeze around, the more his new role settles within him. 

Peasant with his queen. 

You ride him like it. 

You bounce on him with such hard thuds that it provokes the pressure in his groin. His balls tighten so rapidly and the cinematic view of your breasts slapping against each other doesn’t really help slow down the incoming explosion of his orgasm. A glistening ring forms around his cock from your slick—and Jungkook genuinely considers, right here, right now, buying you a promise ring that will be an eternal reminder of this sublime salvation. 

And you’re as aware of the shift as he is because once you reposition your weight onto your feet, you pin his hands back and use them as leverage. Intertwine your fingers with his. His vision gets filled with spots of white. You clamp down on him with each stroke and even though he can’t move, he feels unshackled. There’s no ending to his moans. He’s so close, the pressure deepens in his groin, and he needs one more thing. 

One more thing and he’s done. 

“Kiss me,” he rasps, and you slow down, crying out, your orgasm catching up to you just the same, but he needs your attention, so he begs. “Please, baby. Kiss me.” 

Lowering yourself onto your knees, you lean forward. “Fuck, I love it when you beg. I’d give you anything you ever wanted.” 

His stomach spasms. Your nipples sail over his chest and you shudder, the mesh fabric stimulating you, and then you’re swirling your tongue around the arc of his open mouth. 

Teasing him, like the vulgar, bratty woman you are. 

Extra careful around the lip ring and his swollen flesh, healing it in a way. 

Jungkook whines your name. “Please.” 

You kiss him just once, but he needs more. Lifts his head off the pillow, chasing your mouth. You begin to swirl your hips in circles on the tip of his cock, just like your tongue, and the intense pleasure he gets from it forces him to bang his head back. 

You go for his neck. His collarbone. His nipple. 

And Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. 

His orgasm bursts in his groin and all the roses in the garden swell with freshness. He imagines he’s filling you up, instead of the condom and it elevates the momentous shocks of the explosion descending down all of his nerve endings. He hiccups and that’s it for you. You let go of his hands to massage your clit and you follow him out into that garden, his name and curse words trickling out of your mouth that lowers to his in a final, years-long kiss. 

His last rope oozes out of him at the feeling of your soft, wary tongue and he wants to weep due to the density of your care. More shrubs of roses bloom around your statue in that garden—and once again, he can’t peel his eyes off of you. 

Can’t stop brushing your hair back to see more of you. More of your rose-flushed complexion. More of the spark of your being that irradiates you from within. More of your care and love. 

And you give it to him. 

You wash out the dried blood on his face in the shower. Brush his teeth with extra care, which makes it more than difficult for him to stifle his tears. He lets you be a witness to his sensitivity and you welcome it, cradle it, hold him while the toothpaste foam numbs his achy lip. And it scares his fear away, most peculiarly. 

You hold him in bed, too, amidst the crisp, flower-scented linen of his fresh bed sheets, and you apologize. 

“I’m sorry for what happened tonight. If I hadn’t said a thing, you wouldn’t have ended up bruised and swollen,” you croak out, shifting the cold compress lower on his face, and you break into tears that trigger his. He had wished you weren’t a brat, but for a far different reason, and he tells you. 

“It’s an honor to get punched in the face for you.” He smiles through his tears and you sigh, removing the cold compress. “But I did wish things ended differently. I wanted to fuck you in my car. Keep the window open so you would hear your favorite rapper. But if things went according to my plan, you wouldn’t have healed me.” 

You sniffle, your eyes rounding at the onrush of your tender emotions, and Jungkook watches the waterfall of your tears. His own flows and mingles with yours, joining in unity. 

“What happened to you when we left?” you ask and Jungkook knows he wouldn’t avoid this question for long. Deems you deserve to know because of all what you’ve done for him. And he readies himself, pausing before he bares himself, fully, to you. 

“I got into panic mode because I blamed myself for ruining your night and…” he trails off, aware of the fact he needs to be more specific, and he takes a deep breath, wiping his tears with one hand before slapping it back on the duvet. “I have a constant fear that the people I care for will eventually leave me,” he explains and a wisp of pride envelops his bones for managing to get those words out for the first time in his life. You snuggle closer to his side, placing your head on his shoulder, and he gazes down at you. His fingers find your ear on their own and it comforts him enough, to touch you like that, that he’s able to continue. “I got left behind a lot of times in my past, which is why I swore off love. It just hurt too much and I stopped having the capacity for it. And when we left the concert, I thought you’d leave me, too, after what I’d done.” 

You press the cold compress back to his cheek. “I could never leave you, you’re mine,” you whisper, and another stream of tears soaks through the dish towel wrapped around frozen vegetables. Jungkook doesn’t take your words for granted. He puts great meaning to them and hides them, safely, in his sternum. “And you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t ruin my night. It was all me and for that I’m sorry.” 

He squeezes your arm. “Don’t be sorry,” he says and means it. Lifts his head and plants a cold kiss to your lips. 

Gentle. 

“I love you, Ggukie. It’s me who should be fighting for you now.” 

Jungkook laughs through his nose. “No, I’ll keep protecting my queen.” One more kiss, gentler. “I love you,” he adds and means it. 

And he falls asleep like this. With you clinging to the side of his body while keeping the cold compress intact and unmoving with your forehead. One that he removes in the middle of the night and warms up the iciness of your skin by smothering it with his body heat. 

Returns to the rose garden and gapes at the statue of you, hand in hand with you—as a changed person, a sensitive, flawed and submissive person that is loved and accepted. 

Finds it hard to believe even in his dream. 

And you’re there when he wakes up. 

Drooling, indecent and vulgar as you are. And he wouldn’t want anyone else.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[pomefioredove]

hello hello! i see that the headcanon requests are open, so i have arrived 🐺🐺 i'd like to request the housewardens + chenya, neige and ortho with a reader that's mute! i feel like this would be an interesting thing to go off of. feel free to write it as something reader gained after a certain event, or as an illness that they were born with. platonic would be great, but i think romantic would be absolutely adorable too (minus ortho obviously) so go wild, do whatever you want >:) if this is fine for you to write of course!! love your writing, youre my favourite blog on tumblr hehe (runs away)

thank you so much!! and ofc ofc. I'm writing this based off my own experiences with being semiverbal so if I get something wrong,,, that's on me 😔

summary: nonspeaking reader type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, che'nya, leona, azul, kalim, vil, neige, idia, ortho (platonic), malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

I think Riddle is more adaptive than others give him credit for

it's not like there's any rule about not speaking

(and if there was, he would make an exception for you. he's not completely unreasonable)

I can see him learning sign language with you

and if that's not your thing, he'll figure something else out

he's a fast learner, after all

and he wants to make you comfortable, too. not that he'd ever outright admit it...

(obvious favoritism)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Che'nya is always quick on his feet

or... on air?

anyway

that means that he isn't one to let the absence of conversation stop him from his usual mischief

and he does love charades...

it's almost like he can read your thoughts. or your... hands? expressions?

whenever someone is giving you a hard time, they miiight just end up talking back to a floating head

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona actually never really... brings it up

before he had the full story, he just figured you were shy around him

(which went straight to his head, of course)

so he was already used to it when he found out it's not something you can control

and... he treats you no different for it

he knows you're not stupid or rude just because you're not yapping all the time

and if anyone else gave you a hard time about it... they'd be answering to him

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

no worries with Azul

I mean, the guy can really do it all

sign language, pen and paper, text-to-speech, body language...

he's rather adaptable, and, trust me, being unable or unwilling to speak won't stop him

the offer to give you the voice of a beautiful singer is still on the table... but he can't blame you for not taking the deal

of course

in the meantime, you can come to him for anything and he'll help you out

on the house <3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kalim's heart is in the right place

is he disappointed you won't be able to talk and sing and cheer with him? a little

you're used to the disappointment, unfortunately

but he doesn't give up so easily

or... at all

no singing? he's handing you an instrument

no talking? no problem, he knows you're still listening!

no hummin, shouting, cheering? he can make enough noise for the both of you

he makes sure you're included in everything

very sweet

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil has high expectations, but he isn't unreasonable

if you can't talk, you can't talk, and that's final

that doesn't excuse you from everything else in his strict regimen, though

what may be a weakness to others is a strength to him

you can improve yourself tenfold by focusing on what you can do rather than what you can't

writing, dancing, music...

however you choose to express yourself, he's very supportive

much like Kalim, he includes you in every conversation, every decision, every yes/no question

he's pretty great

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Neige! Neige is a sweetie

I like to think of Neige as someone who's actually quite timid in person, despite his career

it's probably your quietness that draws him to you in the first place

he is so very supportive

he's the kind of introvert to suddenly become extroverted when someone needs help

"excuse me, they asked for no pickles" type of guy

he'll hold your hand through everything if you need it, and remain by your side if you don't

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ortho and Idia are probably the best people to have on your side

Idia just feels so much more... comfortable around you, since he struggles with speaking, himself

he'll let you use his tablet if you need it to speak

...and then he'll get you one of your own, so he doesn't have a heart attack when you accidentally switch tabs

he'll even program a custom voice or two for you

Ortho is a walking translator for you

with a database full of information on body language and expression, he can determine your emotional state in a single glance

he's happy to help in any way he can, of course!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

at some point, Malleus needs a shirt that says "#1 Prefect Defender"

you haven't said a single word to him but if anything happened to you he would curse everyone in this room and then himself

(he means well, I promise)

he's never minded, nor questioned your silence

certain fae communicate through lights or movement rather than sound, so it isn't even anything strange to him

you fit right in at Diasomnia

and you're welcome to stay here for as long as you please

(hint hint)

[iloveboysinred]

I won't say I'm in love [Prince Zuko]

pg. 13, fluff | Zuko x gn! reader

synopsis; Zuko had never been one to express himself in the right ways, anger had always been his primary emotion. But, when he meets you, a rouge fire bender helping the Avatar, it becomes hard for him to accept the growing warmth in his chest every time you look at him.

cw; emotionally constipated Zuko, fluff, pining, Clueless Zuko, Zuko doesn’t know how to deal with feelings, awkward turtleduck, light fluff.

Masterlist

Zuko never had time to really sit and think about relationships. After spending his early teenage years on a wild goose chase hunting the avatar, and now having joined the Gaang, with only a week to teach Aang how to firebend so he could face Ozai, he had a lot going on.

However, when he had started to fit in with the gaang better, you had definitely caught his attention.

You were a firebender yourself, highly skilled and light on your feet. You made a formidable opponent in battle, your elegance and lightweight movements almost resembling an air-bender. Zuko couldn’t help but stare as you practiced basic maneuvers, your muscles flexing with every movement, the thin sheen of sweat on your brow, and the fierce look of concentration on your beautiful face. To say Zuko was whipped was an understatement.

You were the last to accept him into the group, having always been a bit of a loner and standoffish, you didnt trust him. Especially with him being the crown prince of the very nation that has caused you nothing but pain. So Zuko worked extra hard to earn your friendship. Doing good deeds like helping Sokka clean up camp, going on water collecting trips with Kitara, helping Toph with her hair, and of course, befriending Aang and teaching him firebending alongside you.

While Zuko was still miles away from getting close to you, he was running out of ideas on how to gain your approval. So, naturally he went to Sokka for advice.

“Its like no matter what i do, y/n still hates me! I dont get it, you guys all like me, you know i’m good now. So whats their problem?” Sokka looked over Zuko’s exasperated face, putting two and two together. Not that it was hard, everyone caught him staring at you like a creep once or twice already. “I dont think y/n hates you, honestly. Thats just the way they are. It took like, 2 months for them to really open up to us.” Sokka shrugged, smoothing his hair down. “If i’m being honest, you’re trying too hard. Seems like you got a thing for them.” Zuko gaped, staring at Sokka like he had grown another head. “What are you talking about!? I dont like them. I just want them to trust me!” But despite his words, the flush on his face betrayed his denial. Sokka raised his eyebrows. “Right. Okay. Why don’t you just talk to them? I mean, obviously what youre doing isnt working. Maybe you should get them a gift or something.” Zuko nodded to himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? He quickly stood up, a new objective in mind.

“Thanks Sokka.”

“Anytime, bro. And a word of advice, if you’re trying to make it less obvious that you like them, try not staring so hard. It creeps everyone out.”

“I TOLD YOU I DONT!”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Get out before you burn my tent down.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, storming off with a deep flush on his cheeks.

The next morning he set out to the village nearby, wearing a cloak to disguise his face. He looked around the market, stopping by a jeweler, who had a whole array of different bracelets, necklaces, and rings. A peculiar necklace stood out to him. It held a beautiful ruby, plated in gold and held on to a thin, gold chain. Before anybody could see, he snatched it up, quickly leaving and heading back to the air temple before anybody could confront him. On the way back he stopped by a patch of fire-Lillies, picking a few to make a messy bouquet. “Y/n will like these.” He muttered to himself, trying to tie them together with an old piece of twine.

When he made his way back to camp, the others stared at him with questioning glances, momo crawling up to sniff at the flowers. “Whats with the flowers? You into gardening or something?” Sokka asked, eyeing the bright fire-lillies in his grasp. “I got these for Y/n” Zuko blushed as he realized how this looked, averting his eyes from Sokka’s teasing gaze. “Aww thats sweet, Zuko. Who knew you were such a softie.” Kitara cooed, fluttering her lashes in a mock swoon. Zuko gritted his teeth, cheeks burning hotter than the sun. “Yeah, maybe you’ll man up and confess. We all know you like them” Toph chided, smirking. “I don’t!” Zuko protested. “You’re lyinggg” Toph hummed, and Zuko cursed her abilities to see with her feet.

“Whats going on?” Zuko froze when he heard your voice, quickly turning towards you, hiding the bouquet behind his back. “Oh nothing, just teasing Zuko about his undying lo-“ Sokka was abruptly cut off by Zuko slapping his hand over his mouth, glaring at him. “What Sokka was trying to say is, we were teasing Zuko’s undying and super obvious crush on you.” Toph stated nonchalantly. The others snickered at Zuko’s panicked expression, his cheeks couldn’t have gotten hotter, wide eyes turned to you. “I dont know what they’re talking about! I don’t have a crush on you! They’re just trying to be funny i swear-“ “uh, Zuko-“ “I just want you to trust me, so i got you these flowers-“ he pulled the bouquet from behind him, presenting it to you. But what he didn’t realize was, he had accidentally set the lilies on fire. He gasped and dropped the bouquet, stomping on the charred flowers to put the fire out. You just gave him a blank look, the others snickering behind you. Zuko had never felt so embarrassed in his life.

“Wow Zuko, that sure was a good way to confess!” Kitara teased, watching as you just threw your hands up, being completely done with… whatever that was, and walking away to your tent. “Yeah Zuko. Maybe try not almost burning the camp down. I think Y/n will like it better if you just told them how you feel!” Aang chirped, just irritating Zuko more with his upbeat attitude. “Whatever, you guys are impossible” he snapped, storming off in a random direction. “And I told you i don’t like them!” Once he was out of earshot, Toph snickered, laying on her back against Appa’s side. “He’s lying again.”

For the rest of the day, Zuko avoided you at all costs. Leaving you to teach Aang by yourself, even sitting a considerable distance away from you during lunch. It was confusing you, but you didn’t say anything. You guessed he was still embarrassed from the spectacle he had made of himself that morning. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Zuko was sweet, and if what the others are saying is true, you couldn’t deny that you could start feeling something for him too. You’d observed him ever since he joined the group, and his surprisingly gentle heart had impressed you. You’d watched him teach Aang during your training sessions. Appreciating the way his body moved flawlessly, his dark hair bringing out the gold in his eyes. You had to admit, you weren’t complaining when he would show up to your lessons shirtless. There was no denying he was cute.

So, you decided to approach him, surprising even yourself. You waited for everyone to settle into their tents, then you made your way to his. You stood outside for a second, thinking about how you were going to start this, what you would say. But your thoughts blanked when Zuko crawled out of his tent, now face to face with you. “O-oh hi- Zuko- i, um” you stuttered, lost for words. His eyes widened at the sight of you, sputtering like a nervous wreck. “I just wanted to u-um say, t-that i think the flowers were beautiful and u-um that was very sweet of you” “o-oh” you stood in awkward silence, the ground suddenly very interesting. “Anyways i think i’m gonna go-“ “wait, i-i um, i got you this too.” He quickly handed you the necklace, eyes averting yours and a deep blush on his cheeks. You looked the piece of jewelry over, smiling at him. “It’s beautiful Zuko. Um, thank you?” “You’re uh, you’re welcome..” you don’t know what took over you, but you leaned forward pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. You stared at each other in shock, now it was your turn to blush, face as red as a tomato. “Uh well, its getting late- i’m gonna go back to my tent. G-goodnight” the words came out quicker than you could think, racing off back to your tent. Leaving Zuko standing there, hand on his cheek, feeling how warm the skin was under his palm. His brain short circuited and his heart was beating 400 miles per minute, he swore he was gonna pass out.

Hope you enjoyed :> notes and reblogs are appreciated, comments, asks, and requests are welcomed! 💗

part 2

[bouncybongfairy]

Hiii, could you please do a live action jet x reader smut? Where the reader is a water bender and he meets her when he meets sokka and Katara, she knows hes kind of a bad person but she can't help being into him. You don't have to do exactly that, just a idea!

Rude Boy

Jett x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Needing to take a break from travel, your group stops to rest in the Earth Kingdom village of Gaipan. After meeting Jett and the Freedom Fighters, you can't help but be charmed by his bad boy persona. He invites you out to the city for a wild night.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You guys had been flying for hours and the sun was starting to go down. Anng decided that they would find somewhere to set up camp for the night. Appa was getting tired so they needed somewhere soon and Gaipan was the nearest village. Nothing seemed off at first, Katara and Sokka were arguing about the most efficient way to set up their tent. Anng made sure Appa was comfortable when Jett and the Freedom Fighters made their appearance. After they explained their disposition, they joined you around the fire. Jett was sitting right next to you, telling these lavish stories of glory and riches. Katara wasn’t impressed by his show boating and was disappointed you weren’t seeing it. After he was out of ear shot, all she could talk about was how he was a bad guy and not to be trusted. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t see the signs that he was up to no good. You just didn’t give a fuck. His dominant personality was quite charming. How he didn’t tolerate anything he was unhappy with. You loved everyone in the group and have grown to be like family. However, being happy-go lucky and optimistic all the time was emotionally taxing. As Katara used her water bending to put out the fire, Jett pulled you aside. 

“Hey I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come into town with me later tonight?” He asked. 

“Oh uh- yeah I think I would be able to sneak away,” you said, looking over to see if anyone was watching. 

“Great, I'll meet you here, in an hour or two,” he says while catching up with his group. 

You were practically snaking with excitement. For so long, you’d been surrounded with morality and sunshine. You were excited to break away from that, do something that made you feel alive. Laying on your back in the tent, waiting until you felt everyone was actually asleep. Your heart was racing, trying to avoid anything on the ground that could make noise. Jett was waiting for you where he said, resting his hands on the handles of his hook swords. He smiled once he saw you, joking about how he was starting to think you bailed. 

“No, not at all! I’m really looking forward to seeing the night life in the city,” you explained. 

“Well, I’m excited to show you.” he said, holding his hand out for you to take. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you reached the night market he was intent on visiting. It was really nice, several food stands that were making your mouth water. He pulled out a large bag of coins, and made your eyes widen a little. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw that much money in one place. Never giving you a straight answer when you asked how he acquired the money. The mysteriousness was only adding to his bravado. After walking the full length of the market, he took you to a really scenic spot. At the top of a hill, overlooking all the lights in the city. Laying on a bed of soft grass while enjoying the view. 

“So how did you really get all that money?” you asked, laying your head against his shoulder; admiring his side profile. 

“The less you know the better,” he chuckled. 

“It’s okay if it’s bad. I know the group I'm with isn’t the most open minded but the Fire Nation made the world like this. Impossible to survive so why can’t we break a few rules to withstand their wrath you know?” you explained. 

“Finally, someone that gets it,” he said, turning to face you.

Your lips were only a couple inches from his. Smelling the alcohol on his breath from a drink he’d gotten earlier that night. Everything about him was just so unacceptable, his attitude, outlook on life and his moral compass was so wrong. You were tired of trying to figure out why that was so intriguing. Shamelessly giving in to your temptations. Wanting to test the waters slowly, you brush your bottom lip against his. In return he melts his mouth into yours. Running his tongue over your lip, grabbing your face with his hands. Breathing hard out your nose, trying to get air in when you could. He rolled on top of you, pressing his pelvis into yours. Starting to kiss and nip at your neck as the two of you rock your hips together. He sits up abruptly, your lips separating with a wet pop sound. Now on his knees, he pulls out his hook swords and tosses them to the side. 

For the few seconds he was hovering over you with the blades, your skin prickles with goosebumps. He looked so powerful and menacing, it made you feel hazy. Dropping back down, his hands coming down hard on either side of your head. You flinched a little, which made him chuckle before pulling your top off. Of course, you eagerly help him remove it. Your back arched off the ground as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. Swirling and flicking his tongue while pinching and pulling at the other. Your head falling back against the grass, both mind and body fully engulfed with pleasure. Your clit was aching and feeling yourself getting wetter wasn’t helping. 

“Can I ride you?” you asked. 

“No, I wanna fuck you until you’re braindead,” he says, flipping you onto your stomach. 

Pushing your ass up and grinding against his leaking member. Spreading his pre-cum all over your skin before focusing his tip on your entrance. Teasing for a few moments before burying himself inside your heat. He started rocking his hips slowly, pulling out fully before sliding back in. Biting and sucking hickies on your shoulder. Trying his best not to animalistically pound you into the ground. Moaning every time he fully pressed his cock inside you; his head kissing your cervix every time he snapped his hips. Your head was turned to the side, perfect angle for him to shove two fingers into your mouth. Massaging your tongue and prodding down your throat. Letting out a moaning as you gagged and drooled. Wet slapping sounds came from how hard he was thrusting. Taking his hand out of your mouth and brushing the hair out of your face so he could see your expressions. Spreading your drool all over your face in the process, while making patronizing cooing noises at you. Your body went limp, barely audible uh-uh-uh’s coming out of your mouth. Seeing you turned into a fucked out pile of need was steering him closer to climax. Having no remorse and using your body for pleasure was his only goal. Pounding away at you with such force, your skin was becoming sore and reddened. Pressing his full body weight into you, pulling your hair to expose your neck and biting down as he came. Snapping his hips into you every time he shoots thick ropes of cum into your belly. Grunting and growling into your neck as he rode out his high. He got the two of you semi dressed before passing out where you two laid in the grass. Too fucked out to care about the repercussions and responsibilities that tomorrow holds.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee part 10

Warnings: severe touch starvation, forced living weapon/fighter, captive living weapon, war, bleeding & bullet wounds

Whumpee jumped in his skin as the door to his prison suddenly came banging open, a heavily bleeding figure stumbling in.

He was shocked to see it was Flint, covered in blood and deep injuries, barely standing as he hobbled and stumbled over to the wall Whumpee was pinned against.

"We're under attack," Flint coughed, and blood spattered the concrete in front of him from his mouth. And to his amazement, Flint started uncuffing him, fumbling with a key in hands made slippery with his own blood. He ripped the muzzle off next, throwing it to the side, and Whumpee was too stunned to move, unsure what to do.

Flint stood trembling in front of him, bleeding heavily and eyes wild with terror as he coughed more blood on the floor. "Weapon... it's Leader's men. They're invading, and making their way to the North end of the facility, which is where the children and mothers are kept." His gaze was desperate and pleading as he looked at Whumpee, so different from the cold, collected general Whumpee had seen before.

"Myra is there," Flint choked out. "I might be making the biggest mistake in history right now by letting you out, but..." He shoved something large into Whumpee's hands, and Whumpee realized it was his fighting blades, sheaths and all. "We need Weapon. You might go back to Leader's side for all I know and kill us all, but I'm desperate. We are badly losing this fight. Please, Weapon... save us. Save Myra. You said you were tired of all the fighting and killing... if you help my men stop this senseless slaughter, fight one last time, then you will be free. I swear upon my life I will never force you to be a weapon like Leader has, and you will have your freedom back. I will not chain you again.”

Whumpee glanced from the daggers he'd been handed to Flint's face, searching for a trick... but he found none. "...Which way is North?"

"Right outside this room if you take a left then you'll be facing the right way," Flint wheezed breathlessly. "And take this too--" he shed his own protective vest and offered it to the living weapon, which had a few holes and blood spatters on it. But it was better than no protection at all.

Whumpee put it on, despite it being a few sizes too small for his tall, muscular form. "...You really trust me already?"

"No, I don't. But... I don't exactly have a choice, now, do I?" Flint rasped. "If you go out there right now, you're going to be fighting against your own team, killing off your allies. Do you think you can handle that?"

"They're not my allies anymore," Whumpee answered with venom. He remembered everything Leader had taken from him now, bits and pieces of memory slowly coming back.

And Myra... she needed help. And if it took him being the cold-hearted Weapon again, then he'd willingly play the role of the killing machine one last time. To save her. And... because he was beginning to realize more and more that maybe the enemy Leader had been pitting him against were actually the good guys all along.

Flint wiped blood from his brow with the back of his sleeve, breathing harsh and ragged. But his eyes were fiery with determination. "Then go out there... and do what you were trained to do, Weapon. Wreak chaos, and show no mercy," he growled. "I'll rejoin the fight as soon as I can once I get more ammo -- Leader's ambush took us all by surprise, and none of us were armed or ready for it.”

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

[triforce-of-mischief]

legend is a peacekeeper, not a bully. in this essay i will-

heck yeah i'm doing this for real, let's go.

x

let's take a closer look at his initial list of traits:

"chooses not to be a leader type." so, this is a guy who has the experience and maturity that he could take charge, but has consciously decided to leave it to the elder links. taking responsibility for eight men and boys is a lot, and legend simply doesn't have the energy and/or personality to keep it up at all times.

"the most reliable, you want him on your team." legend is a good person to be around! the others genuinely appreciate his company! i love how this is worded; out of a lineup, legend would be chosen.

x

instead of calling out to wild or trying to physically stop him (both pretty dangerous moves around somebody with a nocked bow and arrow), legend simply shoots wild's arrow out of the sky with his own. which is a pretty sick move itself. sure, now wild will have to replace that arrow, but it's hyrule. you can't go two feet without finding a vendor. anyway, we don't get to see wild's reaction but it must not have been extreme because legend is calm around wind moments later. even when they're still getting to know each other, legend makes the right move.

x

legend just gives away an entire freaking fire rod. that's pretty significant if you ask me. he doesn't trust the others with his secrets, but he's willing to provide tools for the job.

x

this is a playful quip during a lighthearted moment. wild probably knows about the impression that he gives off, and he doesn't seem upset about legend pointing it out.

x

then, legend's mood immediately shifts to serious as wild reveals the full extent of his scarring. he settles into a mediator role between wild's casualness and time's concern.

x

as stated before, legend is worried about people breaking his stuff. wild isn't bothered by the veteran's attitude, as he clearly just wants to get in, grab his stuff, and get out.

twilight: "i don't know what his problem is, but you shouldn't let him push you around like that." sky: "oh it's fine. it's harmless. he just doesn't give a second thought about his attitude is all. trust me, people like him aren't bullies." twilight: "hmm. that's very true."

x

THIS. COMIC. any time legend is stereotyped as a bully, i just point to this comic. sky says it himself: people like him aren't bullies. i could stop there, but why would i? sky mentions legend's attitude; i think that legend genuinely isn't always aware of the tone of his words. he says what he wants to say, and it can sound blunt but he never means harm by it. also, note legend's body language in the panel i chose. his hand is behind his head, likely touching his neck. that's a self-soothing gesture and a telltale sign of nervousness. whatever legend's saying, he's not as confident as twilight thinks he is. sky sees legend as he truly is, and that's what's important.

x

the prior subject being everybody else fruitlessly guessing at the monsters' motives. it's late at night, the heroes are probably tired, and the conversation is clearly going nowhere. therefore, legend takes it upon himself to lighten the mood. heavy topics can wait for tomorrow; now, the mystery of wild's arrows will make for a sufficient distraction.

x

legend may be used to being a loner, but he pays just as much attention to the others. he frequently joins small conversations and, at the very least, will observe from close by.

x

this is arguably the only time that legend's teasing continues at the expense of somebody else. it's not an isolated attack, though. all of the eldest heroes are in on the bit, except for time who lets it happen with a resigned look on his face.

x

apologies for the lack of legible conversation, but i really wanted to demonstrate the range of emotions that these two go through. legend and warriors bicker like true brothers; tempers flare for a split second before legend realizes that warriors is purposefully making a mountain out of a molehill. they take turns balancing snark and sincerity, and no harm is done from their initial disagreement.

x

once again: THIS. COMIC. legend is a bit disappointed by the thwarted attempt to tease, but wild makes it obvious that this is not the right time or place so legend acts accordingly. legend tries to make amends by asking a question as he returns the diary, and all hints of prior teasing are gone when he offers not one, but two apologies. legend and wild might be different in many ways, but legend knows all too well how it feels to lose a loved one.

x

legend is aware that he's not the best with words. this is both a subtle jab at himself, and at time- since the elder has taken the leader role, he needs to act like it. legend is reminding time that he needs to be better about praising his group after a hard-won battle.

x

by bringing up the topic of magic swords, legend is the one who caused a moment of tension in the first place. when four quickly tries to ease the mood, legend easily agrees.

x

legend loses another few points here: he's too fast to assume the worst, then snaps at wind as tempers run high after a rough battle. thankfully, things seem to be fine again by the time they make camp.

x

all right, old man, angst time is over. legend isn't thrilled to have to be the one to speak up, but at least time is done being cryptic and creepy.

x

it's not the most ideal subject change, but thinking about ganon is certainly easier than being helpless to wild's plight.

x

can we just... appreciate how legend didn't hesitate before stepping through the portal first, alone? if that's not selfless, i don't know what is.

x

once again, it's time who doesn't realize that his words are hurtful. legend diffuses the situation, leaving twilight to console sky about the master sword.

x

this argument has clearly been repeated for however long legend and wild have been traveling together. even though legend is likely older than wild, he doesn't attempt to force the champion to go with his plan. even one on one, legend chooses not to take the leader role, simply trying to get wild to listen to reason. when four shows up, wild reignites the bickering before legend sighs and admits defeat. as long as they're actually going somewhere, legend knows that there's no point in arguing anymore.

x

legend is pretty set on making twilight admit that he's the wolf- until they're attacked, and legend's thoughts go right back to the group. he then touches the crystal which causes another distraction, but it's important to note that, yet again, legend quits teasing when there's something more important to focus on.

x

twilight points out that legend's teasing isn't supposed to be hurtful. self-defensive, yes, but legend chooses to be this way- even if it's not ideal, he thinks it'll stop him from getting hurt again. so why would he use his quips to bully the others, if that's exactly what he's avoiding himself?

x

legend isn't used to asking for help, but what's the first thing he does? he says thank you! then sky picks up on his awkwardness and it's the skyloftian's turn to introduce a distraction.

x

while the others heroes look nervous or just solemn, legend is embarrassed. twilight and sky were egging four on just as much, but legend still sees it as a personal failing that he didn't act more maturely.

x

legend coming in clutch with another small quip that he hopes will cut the tension. time's interrogating the kid, who clearly doesn't want to give away the elder's story. legend lets them carry on with their important conversation, but kudos to him for trying to lighten the mood prematurely.

x

twilight is out for the count with time, sky, and warriors going to help. so, legend acts as the temporary leader even though he's not accustomed to it. nobody listens to him unless he physically drags them away from a fight, but he still tries to keep the team safe.

x

legend so badly wants to check on twilight, but he knows that four is right. his restless energy then returns and he wastes a few minutes arguing with the smaller heroes before storming out of the inn to look for help.

x

and finally, we have the rare instance of legend wanting to be the peacekeeper, but not knowing what to say. he hasn't left twilight's side since he recovered, but that doesn't mean that he knows how to react to wild's poking at midna. thankfully, wild backs off and legend is able to remind twilight to save his worries until he has his full strength back.

x

so, there you have it! hopefully that was more than enough proof to convince you that legend is a pretty great guy, not the bully that people are so set on making him out to be.

[weaselle]

I once almost stabbed a guy. Being in a position where you are seriously actually for real considering stabbing someone is a wild moment, internally and externally.

So this was way back, baaack in the day, when i went to a lot of parties and also did a bunch of drugs. And my partner at the time and i were scoring some powder drugs from a guy we'd never met before on an acquaintance's sort of recommendation.

and he took so long that our other friend, who also did drugs with us, saw us waiting in the parking lot and stopped to say hi, chatted for a couple minutes, and left.

When the guy finally showed back up, we got a bunch of powder in a taped up zip lock, odd, but our acquaintance had said the product could be trusted, so i handed over a bunch of money and we parted ways

But lo and behold, we get back to the pad, bust out our score, and snort a big ol' victory line ... of chalk dust. It was chalk. Like what you write on a blackboard with. It was ground up to the right consistency, and I had paid a fair bit of money for it, but it was just a big ol bag of chalk dust. Also a sinus full of chalk dust.

Well. Y'know. I took it personal.

The guy was not answering any texts or calls of course (my first text was very reasonable, just sort of "haha, there seems to have been a mistake, but it's an easy fix, you just need to either give me what i paid for or give me my money back) But i was already chasing down other trails

I started backtracking through the acquaintance until i found out where this dealer was. I decide to show up at his door.

As soon as i got his location, i texted him for a third time and it had gotten firmer in tone "hey you either tell when and where to meet you so you can give me what i paid for or my money back, or i'm going to show up where you are and we're going to talk about it in person" Followed 20 minutes later with "I'm parked outside your house on my way to your front door unless you text me back right now."

Okay. i am aware of my situation here. I am about to stare this coked up methed out young twenties dude in his buggy eyeballs at his own front door and accuse him of cheating me on a drug deal. Tee hee hee i'm in danger.

So I came prepared. I had taken a pair of scissors and cut my front right pocket out so i could look like i had my hand casually in my pocket but i could really be holding the handle on an 8 inch knife blade. Which i was.

a line cook with my own knife set, i had chosen this knife, my kitchen utility knife, carefully. I can't find the exact one i had, but this one is very similar

It was long enough to give me significant reach advantage even if he had like a switchblade or pocket knife or something. The size was also selected for intimidation factor. This did also mean that it was heavy enough to slash with, and a good shape for stabbing, with just enough of a heel to act as a solid crossbar and prevent my fingers sliding up over the blade if the tip caught bone on a thrust.

Anyway, i text him as i'm getting out of the car and by the time i'm through his front gate he's running out the front door at me

we both stop in the middle of his front yard, half way between the gate and the front door.

And he's like, quiet-yelling at me, and all up in my face, and threatening me "you're lucky i don't kill you right now"

While i'm thinking my hip pocket is set low and diagonal, if i draw my hand out the right way, my arm will already be in a perfect position to thrust forward with the knife. If he pulls a weapon i have to be ready to get the first strike in

and then I'm like, do i stab him if he hits me? because if i'm fighting without the knife i'm fighting one handed, oh this is not good, how did i think this was going to go!? i have not been as smart as i though i was being.

but i started to realize, he was just blustering and bluffing and sort of panicked. He was definitely not in control of the situation. Which left it to me. And i was weighing whether or not honor meant refusing to be stolen from ripped off or cheated -- and being ready to fight for that. Or if maaaybe real honor was not being the kind of person who stabs another person to death over a stupid drug deal gone wrong.

Oh yeah. To death. If i stabbed him there was going to be a real chance of him dying. I uh. I only know deadly places to hit people with a knife. That's a strange thing you don't think of until you're in that moment, but when you're like, scared of someone, and asking yourself where to strike them with the knife, your list is short and deadly like

across the throat

up through the soft spot under the jaw and into the head

through the diaphragm angled left and up to also get the heart or lung careful don't hang the tip up on the sternum

inside thigh slash for femoral artery

Low front stab for life threatening wound to the intestines

around back same height for possible death through the kidneys careful don't hang the tip up against the spine

Manic slashing back and forth to keep opponent at bay and possibly open up enough wide shallow cuts to bleed them out.

Wherever you pick up your knifing information, there tends not to be a big focus on where to knife someone if you just want to like, scare them away. Or much training on how to stab someone juuuust enough to make them decide to not shoot you. Probably all the knifing information in your head is like "what can i do quickly that will make them dead"

So if I used the knife, it was going to be a real good chance of death, his, unless i fuck it up and he's got a gun, then it's a good chance of it being my death.

And i was like. How much money are we talking. How much money do i decide a human life is worth in this moment. While he threatens me in this weird way, clearly afraid of what his neighbors might hear.

$200? In that moment i thought, man, i would pay two hundred bucks to not have to stab this guy to death right now. And i can! I can walk away from my two hundred bucks and just... not stab this guy. That's a trade i can make right now.

So i said "alright alright, fine, you're right" to myself out loud in the middle of whatever he was ranting about and turned around and left.

I did eventually find out more. Like a month later through mutual acquaintances . Apparently the dude was on his way back to our car with our drugs when he saw our friend stop his car in the parking lot, get out and talk to us for a minute, and leave. And because our friend liked to dress in slacks and a vest and tie (with aviator sunglasses that day) this high on powder drugs dealer got spooked and thought maybe we were undercover and our friend was a cop checking in with us on trying to bust his ass.

So he, paranoid and panicked, goes back to his house and finds something less illegal to substitute, and comes back out and sells us chalk instead. He must have figured the jail time for selling fake drugs had to be less than for real drugs. idk why he didn't just NOT sell us anything, but. That's what happened. And my partner and her friends all were cool with him after they found that out.

But i never was, because he never gave me my money back.

Over hanging out with my so called friends a couple times talkin' bout "oh i already spent it and i'm pretty broke, sorry you know how it is."

And in my head i was like "i could have stabbed you. And i didn't"

But i never did tell him because there wasn't a point, it wouldn't magically make him have $200 (which he didn't have despite selling drugs because when you snort a lot of drugs you tend to be bad with money, and this dude hadn't started off good at it to begin with).

The real lesson was asking myself why was i involved in bad drug deals, and why would my friends be friendly with an asshole who cheated me out of half a paycheck, and relatedly, if my choices had perhaps gotten me deep into a bad lifestyle that i didn't much want to be in, full of people i couldn't trust.

Anyway, that's how i made the only single good decision made by anyone in that whole story, and didn't stab a guy to death over 200 dollars

[eden-writes-stuff]

smut ask for virgin regulus and experienced barty 🦤

This was also me, losing my smut-virginity on tumblr (first time uploading), so I hope you like it anyways

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, first time, anal sex, oral sex, hints at praise kink, but it's not the main point

Wordcount: 1420

They had been dating for three weeks and for Barty it was hell. The dating part was great. Regulus was hot, and a great kisser, and could be very sweet if he wanted to. But whenever Barty tried to take things further Regulus found some bullshit-excuse to get away.

It was not that Barty minded the no-sex part itself. He knew that some people just didn't want to - although that was something he himself would never relate to. It was the excuses, that really set him off. Maybe it was because Regulus didn't trust him. Or maybe he thought he was unattractive. But then why would he get together with him in the first place? So eventually he just snapped.

It happened at the Yule party. Regulus was - as usual - sprawled over his lap, drink in hand. He had been driving Barty wild the entire evening with his cropped dress shirt that exposed his soft skin. He wanted to bite it. When Reg adjusted in his lap, it was over.

"I wanna have sex with you!" The music, as well as almost all conversations, stopped. Everyone was looking at them. Regulus's face was red as a cherry and Barty could guess he didn't look much different.

"What are you looking at? Did none of you ever want to fuck your partner?" Blessed be the Blacks and their authority. Within an instant, everyone was muttering again, continuing whatever it was they had been doing before.

"I'm so sorry", Barty muttered, but Reg just sighed and took his hand. "I think we should talk about this", he answered, pulling him up from the couch and towards their dorm room. Evan whistled after them, earning a rude gesture from both of them.

"I'm really sorry. I don't want to pressure you-" "It's fine", the smaller boy interrupted him. "It's just- fuck, I hate talking..." Regulus started playing with his rings like he always did whenever he was nervous. "I've never... done it before." He was still blushing, avoiding Bary's gaze. He just laughed.

"And that's why you've been cockblocking me for the last month? Merlin's Balls, I thought you thought I was ugly or something. I really started to doubt your taste." He winked at him and Regulus couldn't help but smile. "You will be happy to hear that I have impeccable taste and that I know you are the hottest guy at this school." Grinning he pulled him into a sweet kiss.

"Does that mean, you would generally want to shag me?" "I hate that word, but yes." "And what do you want me to do to you?" Barty smiled softly, leading him towards his bed. "Everything there is to be done." "I like the sound of that." He grinned, kissing him again, while Regulus sat back on the bed. 

"And you really don't mind that I'm not as experienced?" "Why would I mind?" Barty took his place in his boyfriend's lap. "This is an honour. I love that you trust me so much that you let me take care of you like this." His lips started exploring Regulus' neck, licking the soft skin. And Regulus just melted against him. Soft sighs escaped his lips, hands gripping the waistband of Barty's trousers, pulling him closer.

It didn't take long for them to spread their clothes all over the floor. Barty's fingers dug into the soft flesh of his arse, making Reg groan into his mouth. "Are you always this desperate?", he teased, voice heavy with need. "Only after I haven't been properly fucked for over a month." "Poor you, living in abstinence." "Says the guy that's never even been laid before." "Bastard."

He let himself fall back, pulling Barty over him, hips almost meeting in the middle. "Princess." "Whore." "Oh, absolutely. I'm gonna be your personal slut once you know how to handle me" Reg raised an eyebrow but found he didn't mind the image. "So is this all? Insulting each other until you come?" Barty laughed roughly. "I think it's good foreplay. But I can show you more if you think you can take it." He kissed him again, but soon let his mouth travel downward towards the swollen, flushed dick.

"You ready?", he made sure. Regulus immediately nodded, making his boyfriend smile widely before wrapping his lips around him.

Barty's tongue quickly became his new favourite thing in the world. The way he used it drove him close to madness. He had suspected as much, imagined it during long showers, but in reality it felt so much better than he'd ever thought. Barty had him dripping and moaning in no time, clutching his hair, cursing under his breath. And Bary loved it. He drank in every sound that escaped Regulus' pretty throat, nearly lost it when he started moaning his name.

Before he could finish Barty drew back, enjoying the sounds of protest. "Don't worry, princess, you'll get enough chances to come in my mouth, but not this time." 

With a simple tip of his wand, he prepared Regulus, who actually squeaked in surprise. "What the fuck was that?" "Shit, sorry. I was just making sure you're wet enough so it doesn't hurt." Barty blushed a little, softly kissing his hand. "I think I got a bit overexcited." "It's alright. I'm fine. Just maybe a warning next time." He nodded instantly, gently pressing their lips together.

"Do you want me to keep going?", Barty asked after a moment and Reg nodded assuringly. "If you stop now I'll have to find someone else. I doubt either of us wants that", he smirked before kissing along his shoulder. That was all he needed. "I'll start with my fingers so that it's easier for you to adjust." Regulus understood, spreading his legs a little wider as Barty pushed his index-, then a few minutes later, his middle finger into him.

He loved seeing Regulus like this, drowning in pleasure, audibly enjoying everything Barty did. After a while, he tried praising him. "You're doing so good for me", "I can't wait to be in your pretty hole.", "You're so wonderfully tight."... Regulus only started moaning and gasping louder, moving himself on his fingers, while Barty watched.

"P-please." "Fuck, you're pathetic. Tell me what you want. I like to hear things said out loud." A shiver ran down Regulus' spine. He'd never been this turned on in his entire life. "I want your dick. I want you to fuck me, to make me come" Barty was basically purring, by the time he pulled his finger out of him. "You're so good at this. Are you sure, this is your first time?", he smirked while positioning himself in front of his entrance.

Regulus grinned innocently. "You know I like to read..." Barty was stunned for a second before grinning widely. "You're so fucking hot", he laughed softly before gently pushing in.

They both moaned in unison, Regulus gripping onto his arm, eyes wide. "Feels... so good." That was enough to get him to start moving. He forced himself to keep it slow, to stay in control of himself, but the way the other boy's back bent when he tried to move closer was too beautiful, too pure and- fuck, he would never get tired of his little gasps.

"There are so many things I wanna do with you", Barty groaned, burying his face in Regulus' neck. The other boy whined softly, making Barty grind deeper and deeper into him.

He could tell Regulus was holding back in so many ways. "It's adorable how you think you can hide from me, princess. But I want to hear those sweet noises you make. And I want you to come whenever you need to. Don't hold back, baby", he whispered, softly kissing and biting along his shoulder

Beneath him, Reg was a whining mess. And soon those whines turned into loud, unrestricted moans. Barty knew he would come when his legs started shaking, so he drew back to look at the gorgeous piece of art in front of him, brows furrowed, lips parted, head tilted slightly back.

"Fuck, Barty I'm gonna- I'll-" and with two more thrusts, he spilled all over Barty's stomach, fingers clutching the covers. The image drove him over the edge only seconds later.

Breathing heavily he dropped next to Regulus on the bed. "You okay?", he murmured after a moment. Reg nodded weakly.

"I can't believe I missed out on this for three weeks, just because I was too much of a coward to talk to you", he laughed.

[wannaeatramyeon]

uhm could you possibly do jealous lookism character headcanons? (._.)

Thanks for the ask anon! This has been a wild 2 weeks of hyperfixating for me and I'm starting to dry up so this has come as a good time (altho I've got lots of drafts sitting around lol)

This has been super interesting. Some characters obv have a jealous personality, but I've never thought about those who don't. This will def become a multi-parter!

Most jealous here!

Lookism jealous headcanons: least jealous

Let's start with these guys first (Jake, Vasco, Gun, Daniel, Eli): hc for being jealous themselves, and hc for you trying to make them jealous

Jake Kim

To be with Mr. Butt, you would have developed a pretty good relationship anyway to move into the romantic terrority. He knows you are loyal and trusts you implicitly.

Any naturally occuring feelings of jealousy are for him to deal with on his own. Will take a bit of poking and prodding before he talks to you about it.

But if you're trying to provoke him? Why are you even trying to make him jealous? Two can play at this game if you're trying to be a pain in the ass. He'll try and talk things through with you first, to see if he's pissed you off. But if you carry on? Expect him in full silly mode: kneeling down before you, shouting his apologies, announcing his feelings, literally begging you to stop flirting with this ugly nobody.

Vasco Tabasco

Rarely, if ever, gets jealous. He's just so happy to be with you. It's one thing if you're in trouble, but if he notices someone is being overly friendly but you're nonplussed? He just looks at you with heart eyes: "Ahhh look at Y/N. They're so cute and pretty! I can't believe they're with me!!"

If you're provoking Vasco then good luck. He wouldn't really understand your actions but will be upset about how he is feeling. "Do you like them more than me, Y/N? :(((" The sad face is enough to guilt you into stopping. Really, it's like kicking a puppy. Why would you do that.

Gun Park

Feeling jealous of his own accord? Guess being with you proves he is human afterall. He's arrogant, confident but aware of his own limitations. Jealousy isn't an emotion he's well acquaintained with. Will result in him brooding or being extra cold until he can put his finger on it and figure out the next steps.

Lucky for you, Gun is pretty forthright. He'll tell you what has been making him jealous so you can both work through it.

Trying to make him jealous? Also good luck. Gun will see right through your attempts. Depends what mood he is in. At times he's amused but generally he will ignore you and your childishness.

Daniel Park

Yes, he's had a glow up in his first body and yes, he gets lots of attention in his second but that doesn't erase years and years of bullying and hating himself. The feelings of inadequacy will overwhelm and cause him to shrink back into himself.

He'll need a lot of reassurance that you love him for him. It's better if you don't focus too much on his appearance. "What happens if one day I put on weight again? or when I get old? Will you still like me then? :("

Provoking him? Please don't be so mean to Daniel. Especially if you know about his insecurities. This is more of a reflection on you and your issues if you're purposely making him jealous. Shame on you.

Eli Jang

Tends to get jealous if he thinks someone else is a better provider for you: physically, romantically, mentally, financially etc. Being the Big Daddy for Eli means he should be able to do it all, and then some. He will get in his head if he thinks someone else is better suited to you.

For Eli, actions speak louder than words - show him how much you love him and he has nothing to worry about.

Cannot imagine him being with a partner that would try and make him jealous. There's enough on his hands with Hostel and Yenna. He wants a mature and stable presence in their lives, he doesn't want nor have the time to play these games.

[autistic-crypt1d]

X-Files Live Blogging:

Season 2

Season 1 was amazing and left on a huge cliffhanger, I'm so excited for season 2 let's gooooo

I feel the need to say this after watching a lot of this season. Episodes 10 - 14 have some very triggering content (SA and rape). Please be aware of this if you decide to watch and if you want to watch the show but can't or don't want to see that, please feel free to DM me and I'll tell you what I can about the episodes!

S1

Updates:

- Little Green Men

- Space!!!!

- Scully getting existential in the autopsy room

- Scully's longing look at Mulder 😭 why are you ignoring herrrrr

- oh my god, Scully trying to keep Mulder from losing his belief is so AHHHH

- THE HEAD RUB OMFG

- how could he go without her!!!

- Jorge noooooooo

- Mulder should know better than to go after stuff without Scully, she's just gonna find him anyway

- nice work Scullyyyyy

- "before I could only trust myself. Now I can only trust you, and they've taken you away from me." BRO

- OH FUCK

- RECORD IT MULDER

- DAMN IT DUDE THAT WAS YOUR CHANCE

- talk about an event to restore his belief damn

- she found him!!!!

- THE SHOULDER GRAB

- take all the paper and go!!!!!!

- just grab em!!

- Mulder putting his hand on Scully while the shooting is happening oh my godddddd

- let's go get away driver Mulder god damn!

- oh shiy Caldwell (I can't remember the character's actual name) sticking up for Mulder??

- you can tell by his face he did noooot approve the wire tap on his phone

- I don't understand why they didn't just gran all the papers

- "I still have my work. I still have you." AHHHHH

- The Host

- he's so dead

- oh yeah, that is horrifying

- god I hate water monsters, this is gonna suck so bad isn't it

- ahhhh he's stayed for Scully AHHHHH

- YUCK

- NOPE

- Skinner!! The guy who is also Caldwell is called Skinner here

- YEESH that wound is nastyyyyyyy

- starts bleeding from the mouth, GETS IN THE SHOWER INSTEAD OF GETTING CHECKED OUT

- BRUH EEW

- oh boy that is a big worm

- OK NOT A WORM WHAT THE FUCK

- where tf was it?!?!

- NOPE NOPE NOPE

- ok yep he's just goin down into the sewer in a suit no hesitation

- oh he's so gonna fall in isn't he

- YUP

- YEAH STAND THERE AND TALK ABOUT YOUR LOST GLASSES INSTEAD OF GETTING OUT OF THE WATER KNOWN TO HAVE A KILLER CREATURE IN THERE

- MULDER NO WHAT THE FUCK

- OH

- boy howdy that's gross, but nice job Fox

- THEY DIDN'T REMOVE THE BODY?!?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!

- Blood

- title makes me nervous

- do not listen to that man, please listen to your gut and run away

- Mulder you better not have actually given that creep Scully's number

- wow, they never figure out who was doing it????

- Sleepless

- killer nightmares?

- new guy, Krycek looks familiar

- BRUH, the way Mulder is leaning towards her in this scene is WILD

- apparently the actor has been in a couple things I've seen, Supernatural, Once Upon a Time, and Burn Notice

- Preacher I also recognize, been in a couple crime shows I've seen

- I'm excited about the new guy it's fun, he better not try to replace Scully as his partner though

- Mulder's new friend in the FBI has a super familiar voice, it's making me think of the guy who played Brian (I think), the guy who also played Walter on Eureka, but he's already been in this show

- oh shoot, ok well definitely not that guy, but I recognize the actual dude

- damn those are some big ass flashlights

- damn it new guy I liked you!!!

- Duane Berry

- man this is quite an episode for Mulder

- oh shit

- y'all this episode is really cool

- A TWO PARTER OH SHIT

- Ascension

- Duane Berry has made a big mistake

- I recognize the cop that pulled him over

- OOP

- Krycek you better not get Scully hurt istg

- YEESH THIS SHIT IS INTENSE

- MULDER YOU'RE GIVING ME ANXIETY

- KRYCEK I SWEAR TO GOD

- oh hell

- KRYCEK. KRYCEK WHEN I CATCH YOU KRYCEK.

- LET'S GO MULDER!!!

- the government guys used Duane to get Scully away from Mulder didn't they

- WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THAT, STOP THAT, DON'T TOUCH SCULLY

- Krycek totally murdered him right?

- oh shit did Mulder figure Krycek out???

- YESSS

- I kinda love Skinner now

- SHE STILL ISN'T FOUND WTF

- -3

- vampires?

- Dana becoming an X-File makes me wanna cry

- VAMPIRESSSSSS

- did they being back Maybourne?!?! They did!! Ugh is he gonna be an asshole this time

- OH

- thank god you have SOME sense Mulder

- when is Scully coming back, I miss her :(

- damn ok they ready got a new third

- ugh I hate the way she talks about blood, and the way she talks like she's trying to be sexy. I hate that in characters in general. Characters are either sexy or they aren't, characters that are played to be by trying to be is so hard to watch

- Mulder is wearing Scully's necklace oh my god 😭

- please do not hook up

- STOOOOOOP I HATE ITTTT, ESPECIALLY WEARING HER NECKLACE

- BRO STOOOOOP

- god damn it y'all

- I'm honestly so upset with Mulder right now. His partner, the only person who not only believes in him, but follows him anywhere putting herself on the line again and again for him, is missing and he's hooking up with some random person?!?!

- One Breath

- DANA

- SHE'S NOT DEAD DON'T YOU DARE PUT THAT UP AND MULDER DON'T YOU DARE STOP LOOKING FOR HER

- DANA?!?!?!?!

- I recognize Melissa from something, Eureka I think?

- WAIT NO THAT'S DIANE FROM NCIS

- YEESH

- tall chainsmoking mf, you suck

- PFFFFFT CANCER MAN

- Hammond!!

- who is this nurse??

- damn dude I really love Skinner

- oh hell

- go see her Mulder, tell her you need her!!!

- YESSSS

- y'all this season is nothing but pain so far wtf

- wake up Dana!!!!!

- YES DANA LET'S GO!!!!

- AHHHHHHH

- I'm so happy she's back

- Firewalker

- oh hey it's the scientist from the Eureka episode with the meteors!!

- man this show really loves utilizing the "rectangle of light that only illuminates the eyes even though it makes no sense and where tf is that light even coming from" thing

- oh my god the slight little step behind Mulder Scully did

- bro really should not have gone out alone, he's gonna die isn't he

- I missed the duo so much I'm so happy!!

- oh yeah, he dead

- uh oh

- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT

- a mushroom?!?!?! NAH

- THE SHOULDER TOUCH AHHHH

- throat mushroom is so gross I hate itttt

- OOP

- I really hope they don't just gloss over Scully's abduction. I hope that the way it affects her will get brought up again at some point

- HANDCUFFS?! SERIOUSLY JESSE?!?!?!

- god damn Scully is strong!!

- RUN MULDER!!

- THE FACE TOUCH

- that was a very deliberate patch showing, does that mean something?

- Red Museum

- wow! Gross!

- where the hell is that dude hiding wtf

- poor kid :(

- oh lovely, a cult

- bro, wiping the corner of her mouth?? These two have so much comfort in physical contact with each other from like day one

- Cadet Haley?!

- OH

- OH SHIT HE WAS IN THE WALL

- disgusting man

- aaaaand Mulder is rushing into danger alone again

- saved by Scully once again

- Excelsis Dei

- Janet!!!!!

- hey now you leave Janet alone!!

- tw: rape

- Mudler you better work this case well or istg

- I despise old men, they say the most vile, intrusive shit, and behave like they're fucking kings

- ah yes, feed the residents mushrooms 👍

- KICK IT!! SOMETHING!!

- ah so Stan was indeed the problem

- Aubrey

- did he just send her there to die??

- wtf??

- not dead???

- huh????

- was that really a necessary thing for Mulder to say? (Spoiler alert, No)

- this poor woman geez

- wtfffff

- y'all this episode is depressing af and so was the last one wtfff

- Irresistible

- sir you are immensely creepy

- WHAT THE FUCK STOP THAT SHIT

- WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT

- AHHHH YUCK DUDE

- GIRL RUN WHAT THE FUCK

- what is going on with Scully this episode? I feel like it has to be more than squeamishness with how they're emphasizing it

- y'all what is with these episodes, I hate them so much

- DAMN RIGHT, PUNCH THAT MF!!

- YOU DIRECT THOSE MF CREEPY PEEPERS AWAY FROM SCULLY YOU BASTARD

- she better shoot him, this episode can only be redeemed by that dude dying horribly

- damn that therapy scene was good

- dude you better back the fuck off

- she should've been allowed to kill him this is bullshit

- I'm really glad they revisited and acknowledged Scully's trauma as much as this episode sucked for me personally

- Die hand Die Verletzt

- interesting title

- wtf

- dude what is with all the sexual assault and rape in this fucking season

- Mulder trying to shield Scully with his body 😭

- Scully insinuating the guy was being controlled?? Oh??

- wtf

- Fresh Bones

- YEESH

- was that Lt Conner from Stargate SG-1??

- fuck Wharton y'all

- WHAT THE FUCK

- serves you right Wharton

- Colony

- Mulder?!?!?!

- GERARD?? FROM 911??

- please don't tell me you're buying this Mulder

- that's the actress who plays the young version of Leneya in Stargate!!

- way to go Scullyyyy

- oh fug

- End Game

- Major Davis!!!!

- get your hands off her you shapeshifting fuck!!!

- it was really her? Oh man :(

- ow ow ow

- ok it wasn't really her thank god that would've been super disappointing

- what about the scene from the beginning of Colony???

- LET'S GO SKINNER

- ok here we go

- why is he still hiding out in the sub??

- oh ok I guess he's leaving now

- YOU TELL HIM DANA

- Fearful Symmetry

- invisible elephant???

- no longer invisible elephant???

- so aliens have been taking the babies?

- :(

- Død Kalm

- what the fuuuuuuck

- what the FUUUUUCK

- BRUH WHAT

- this episode is stressing me outttt

- screw the captain guy

- Karma

- Humbug

- what the hell is wrong with this dude crashing a funeral like that??!?!

- way to go Sherriff!

- tabernacle of terror XD

- boy howdy that’s gross

- DR. BLOCKHEAD

- AHHHHHH NOOOOOO

- GOD DAMN

- Ahhhhhhh don’t touch people you don’t knooooow

- AHHHH DARK CLOSED OFF ROOM. ALONE. NO THANK YOU

- oh

- PFFFT MULDER

- bro you better leave that dog alone!

- SCULLY’S FACE

- her little shrug XD I love that she’s gotten to the point of enjoying the supernatural shit

- PFFFT THE YANK

- I love the sheriff please don’t die

- what the fuuuuuck

- MULDER ON THE FLOOR

- the way she steps over him help.XD

- oop

- oh my fucking god did he eat it?!?!?!?!

- PFFFFFFT MULDER'S POSE

- Calusari

- BUCKLES THE BABY TO THE SINK

- BRO THATS WHAT YOU GET, FUCKIN LEAVE THE KID WITH HIS DAD OR TAKE HIM IN THE STALL WTF

- oof, killed his baby brother for a balloon

- was that a swastika????

- oh shit it wasn't the kid

- it is the boy but it isn't?

- OH

- YEESH this is intense!!!

- oh hell

- ok there is no way Dana can explain that away

- F. Emasculata

- oh gross

- oh! gross!

- I hate ittttttt

- I'm gonna hate this episode so much

- thank god he's finally in isolation, him being so close to Scully was making me nervousssss

- putting a kid on a long journey bus alone????

- IT'S SO GROSS I CANNOT LOOK AT IT

- thank fuck that shit is over oml

- Soft Light

- ok so his shadow like, absorbs people??

- funkyyyyyy

- dude you're gonna get yourself and the others killed

- yup

- great work.

- aw man :(

- Our Town

- eew chicken factory

- oh god that is so gross

- Mulder at least take that big ass coat off if you're going in the water

- oh darn that's a lot of bones

- I do NOT like the sheriff

- oh what the FUCK

- WHAT THE FUCK

- HURRY MULDER

- YEAHHHHH

- freaky

- Anasazi

- OH

- why is he throwing hands with Skinner??

- wtf

- OH SHIT

- WHAT

- 😭

- oh my god the way he collapses into her arms 😭

- someone did something to him right? Like he didn't know why he attacked skinner and he's been sweating and confused

- oh yeah he's been poisoned hasn't he

- OH SHIT

- AHHHH WHAT THE HELL

- he looks like he's finally sobering up

- Sully should be here for this :(

- "you black lunged son of a bitch" PFFFT

- damn it I hate this guy!

- my question is how to the dude got the body out of there on a dirt bike

- WHAT IS HAPPENING

- way to go kid!!

- uh oh

Season 3

[sirtaehyunsalot]

Tazzy Chris

Chris x reader

(I know it's not a tazzy chris gif but I like it so shhhhh)

Cw: sexual jokes and implied NSFW

AN: I deleted my OG blog but before I did I saved my first (and only) fanfic and pasted it here

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

You and the rest of your friends in the Wild Kratts crew were tagging tasmanian devils so you could find a way to stop them from going extinct. Well technically, the bros were doing all the grunt work, you and Aviva were just helping Koki track the animals. You were only half paying attention so you flinched when you got an alert on the computer.

A blonde kid appeared on the screen and introduced himself as Kenny from Tasmania. He explained that he and his friends weren't seeing as many t-devils around as he used to, while a video of the devils eating a dead animal played on the screen.

"Ick, gross! Rotten meat!", Koki gagged as you both turned away from the screen. Kenny laughed, "Yeah they're pretty scrappy!"

"I think it's cool", Jimmy shrugged. "And I think I'm gonna be sick," Koki replied. "Well look at this Kenny, I finished building the tracking system programming. Each of these icons is a tagged t-devil moving around in real-time."

"Very cool Koki!" Aviva said. "Our system will pick up every t-devil that Chris and Martin tag. We'll be able to track them no matter where they go!"

"Ah wow thanks, I'm really glad you guys are here to help! I'd be sad if they disappeared," Kenny stated.

"No worries! That isn't gonna happen our watch," Aviva reassured him. Kenny thanked all you and said to call him if you needed any help.

"I haven't seen you two so grossed out since you watched me down 4 peanut butter cheese burgers topped with brussel sprouts and whipped cream," Jimmy pointed out to you and Koki

"Did you really have to remind me..?" you grimaced as you and Koki walked away.

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

About half an hour had passed and you were curious to know how the bros were coming along with the t-devil tagging. You decided to call Martin but before you picked up the creature pod, Martin was already calling you. You answered it.

"Y/N help!" Martin screamed. "There's something wrong with Chris's suit!"

You looked behind Martin to see Chris standing there looking totally fine.

"But Chris looks fine to me," you said with confusion laced in your voice.

"Never been better babe," Chris replied with a smirk. He's flirty like that.

"But he was just craving carcass meat!" Martin replied frantically.

"I'm fine bro! Cmon we've got t-devils to tag," your boyfriend said while walking away.

"Maybe you're the one who's malfunctioning Martin," you teased. "But don't worry we're on our way!" you said before hanging up.

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

You saw Koki pacing around the tortuga while you were getting some water. "Hey uh, aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on those t-devils?" you asked.

"Well I can't get any work done because rotten meat and carcasses gross me out!" she answered.

"Yeah trust me, I can relate.. but as part of the Wild Kratts crew we're gonna meet all types of animals, both alive and dead. We might as well get on with it so that it doesn't matter as much to us in the future," you advised her.

"Yeah but animals that eat rotten stuff? Yuck!" Koki exclaimed.

"Ey somebody's gotta eat all that maggotty meat. At least it's the t-devils and not us," Jimmy stated. And at that Koki ran out of the room to throw up while Aviva laughed and you facepalmed.

The moment was quickly interrupted by Martin calling the main computer asking for Koki.

"Oops," she said while running to the screen. "I'll be right there Martin! ...Oh no!" Koki shouted.

"What happened?" Aviva questioned.

"10 t-devils are quickly moving west together, which is unnatural. And then their tracking lights go out.. And they're gone!"

"Is tag number 9, T-bone, one of the disappearing t-devils?" Martin asked on the screen.

"Yeah," Koki replied.

"And number 8, his mom.." Aviva lamented

You all immediately knew that you had a big, big problem on your hands.

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

Chris and Martin had followed the GPS trackers to Zach's plane, sitting in the middle of the forest. Chris finally caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of Zach's shiny plane.

"Woah, is that really me-?" Chris asked

Martin threw his arms up in the air. "That's what I've been tryna tell ya bro!"

Chris admired himself, "Hey I'm pretty wild looking! And I've got great night vision, black and white but sharp as a tack"

Chris hopped onto a window ledge to see what Zach was up to. He saw that Zach was using the devils for his security robots and immediately jumped back down to tell Martin.

"He's using our t-devil buddies for evil!" —he growls— "...Did I just growl-?"

"Umm, it was more like, ROOOAAAEER"

"Cool! 😎"

Martin rolled his eyes at his younger brother. "Koki, Zach's got the t-devils."

"I'm so sorry Martin! Rotten meat grosses me out so I wasn't keeping track of the Tasmanian devils and I didn't notice when they started disappearing!" Koki spoke quickly, as if she had been holding her breath.

"Woah slow down Koki! Oh no, Zach's leaving!" Martin responded.

The black plane rose off of the ground while Zach jeered and mocked them for not paying closer attention to their creature friends.

Koki had guilt written all over her face, "And because of me, he's getting away with all the t-devils.."

"Don't worry Koki, we'll get 'em back! Can you pick us up?" Martin assured her.

"On our way!"

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

"Ok, the t-devil tags are sending signals from inside Zach's jet. 42 degrees north and 147 degrees east," you told Jimmy.

"Got it"

"You've gotta deactivate him Aviva, he's been drivin' me NUTS! I had to do all the tagging and he wouldn't stop drooling on me!" you heard Martin complaining to Aviva.

You went over to where they were only to see Chris, in all his tazzy glory, chewing on some of the scrap metal from the teams most recent project.

"Chris drop that!" you freaked out. "Just because you can chew through metal doesn't mean you should actually eat it!"

"What" he smirked at you. "You jealous that the metal's getting bitten instead of you?"

Martin groaned loudly, "Oh for the love of everything holy, please save that stuff for the bedroom..!" all three of you laughed at him while Aviva picked up her screwdriver to deactivate Chris.

"Wait! Don't deactivate me yet! I've got t-devil power! We're misunderstood creatures, but now I understand why. I could have the key to getting the others back," —he growls–

"Don't bite me!" Aviva screamed.

"Come on, I'd never hurt you!"

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

The team finally made it to Zach's place, and just in time too! There were 2 kids, a boy and a girl, being surrounded by Zach's tazzy bots.

"Don't be scared of the t-devils, they won't hurt you!" Martin announced to them.

"Oh it's the Wild Kratts! Help were being attacked by Tasmanian devil robots!"

You, Chris and Martin made your way down to the ground, the kids faces shifting from fear to confusion in a few seconds.

"Is that... Chris-?" the girl asked.

"Yeah-" —you ran your fingers through your hair— "He's a t-devil, it's a long story-"

"I've got a plan!" Chris lit up. "If you find any rotten food, throw it in front of you, since they like to eat dead and rotting things."

You and the kids went around looking for rotten food for the t-devils. You dumpster diving for food wasn't your proudest moment but you figured you had to do it for the creature rescue. You managed to find a gas station sushi container with a piece of rotting fish in it. Perfect. You ran back to place your fish alongside the moldy sandwich and putrid pizza that the kids found.

Chris smiled with satisfaction and growled, "Oh they won't be able to resist that!"

"Animals are no match for technology!" Zach interrupted.

"Wanna test that theory?" you smirked.

The t-devils began to break through the robot bodies and one by one the clashing and bashing of metal could be heard as each t-devil jumped out to get their share of the meal. Zach immediately started to throw a conniption fit and promptly slipped on a banana peel, causing him to slip and fall directly on his ass. You simply couldn't hold in your laughter as the 5 of you watched Zach scurry back into his house with a bruised ego, and an equally bruised behind.

"Yummy! Last week's moldy pizza! It's disgusting, but I just can't help i-" you kissed your tazzy boyfriend to get him to forget about that pizza as Aviva hurried down to deactivate him.

Chris pulled away after a few seconds, "Phew, thanks for saving me from eating that, sweetheart," he wrapped an arm around your waist as you walked back into the turtle ship.

"You can thank me in bed," you winked

"Who am I to say no to that?," he replied as he picked you up and ran into your shared bedroom.

[ozzy-boy]

Volks' love languages

(his deluxe date made me start thinking about this... I'm definitely going to make more of these for the other guys <3)

-Volks isn't a touchy feely guy. He just isn't. Sure, he opens up a lot more around you than he does around other people, but that doesn't mean he isn't awkward and cagey about it.

-Won't initiate physical touch. Practically refuses to. You have to be the one to initiate everything.

-It isn't even that he doesn't want to touch you- no, he's just too stubborn to ask. Because (clearly) asking your significant other for a hug is embarrassing (obviously). He always has to bring it up in a round-about way, like "If you tripped and fell on me-" or "If you wanted to-".

-He eventually gets more and more used to it the longer you're dating.

-Just don't call attention to it when it finally happens. If you make a big deal out of him hugging or deciding to kiss you first, he'll get embarrassed and stop. It's like getting the trust of a wild animal- he's skittish. (lmao)

-In general though, physical touch just isn't really his thing. He doesn't hate it (even if he pretends he does), but it's not usually his first thought either. Hates PDA don't even try it with him cause he'll refuse.

-Isn't the biggest fan of gifts, either... He just isn't very materialistic. He could take or leave most presents, unless they were particularly thoughtful or really to his taste.

-The best gift you can give him is an activity to do together, or something for him to cook. If you ever want to get Volks downright giddy, get him the expensive wagyu. Seriously, he'll be like a kid on Christmas.

-Which leads into one love language Volks is very much a fan of: Acts of service.

-It stems from his childhood. His mother was an ER nurse- and he did everything he could to make her life less difficult.

-He got good grades, kept his room clean, didn't get in fights... He was kind of the definition of a 'good kid'. Started doing his own laundry and making his own meals a lot younger than a lot of kids typically would. He never really minded it, either. Usually, when the house was already clean and dinner was already cooked, it meant that him and his mom could spend more time together since she didn't have anything extra to do after work.

-This bleeds into his romantic relationships too, even if he doesn't realize it. The biggest way Volks shows he loves you is by doing things for you. This trait comes out x100 if you live together.

-You are NOT going to work without a packed lunch. If you bug him about it enough he might even leave you cute little notes. Usually just stupid little doodles of wolves and stuff but he doesn't understand why you love them so much.

-Cooks most of the meals and does most of the chores. (malewife fr)

-You try to insist that you should split the chores 50/50... but he just ignores it. He wants to make your life less difficult.

-"So what if I did the laundry already? We don't need to take turns doing it... C'mon, don't look at me like that."

-"Don't worry about the dishes, I'll do them myself later... Seriously, there are better ways to spend our time together."

-He's secretly such a sweetheart, although he struggles with words of affirmation.

-Sometimes, Volks will say something so incredibly sweet that it makes you swoon but it's never on purpose.

-If he's TRYING to use his words, he can't come up with anything. He's plagued with awkwardness and an emotionally stunted personality, words are hard for him. He struggles to string words together that really explain how much he likes you...

-When he says something really sweet, it's probably because he's just being honest and not putting any thought into it.

-Which... Volks kind of has a problem with sometimes. It's difficult for him to really talk about his emotions and feelings and that's why he always pushes this cares about nothing/nonchalant attitude- you can't be disappointed if nothing ever bothers you.

-So, he actually really appreciates having someone that speaks their mind and means it. You manage to fluster him so much just by being nice and honest with him.

-Hearing you say how much you like him, how attractive you think he is, how much you appreciate what he does for you... Really makes him swoon.

-He's never really put much faith into people's words- actions are what speaks loudest- but it's different when it's you. He loves your words.

-Just... tone down the flirting and compliments in public, okay? He thinks he looks like a dork when he blushes like crazy in public and he'll pout about it.

-Volks' other main love language is quality time.

-Just wants to spend time with you. He doesn't really care what you're doing, or where, or for how long.

-Whether it's for a couple of minutes between your busy schedule, or for hours at a time. Any time he spends with you is good time spent.

-Volks is a homebody and an introvert at heart. His personal time and space are not something he gives up lightly. Just the fact that he allows you in his apartment when you start dating is a high honor, because it's a privilege only few are afforded. (few = you and his mom)

-You don't even have to be doing anything when you're together. Volks is the type that's perfectly content to just exist in the same room. It gives him a good opportunity to stare at you without you noticing.

-Speaking of staring, it's practically a love language in it of itself for him. He loves to just look at you, and he doesn't really care if it's 'weird'. So what if he's staring? You're hot. It'd be a shame not to stare.

-He'll also love it if you engage in his hobbies, especially if you agree to go camping with him. Just be careful, his idea of camping is closer to straight up survival. But he'll be happy, so you figure it's worth giving up your comfortable bed and learning to spear fish in the wilderness.

[ananxiousgenz]

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: PART 9 (?)

i've lost track by now ngl. we're at over 9,000 words so i get a pass. this part is. ouchie central. so i am expecting a lot of people yelling at me in the comments and tags. this is fun for me.

LETS GO TPP CREW, ROUNDING THE CORNER WITH MY TPP CREW: @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini (@the-private-eye i'm tagging you too bc i can :))

The silence was what finally woke him.

Juno had been solidly asleep, dreaming about things he couldn’t quite remember but that made his stomach twist. When he finally opened his eyes, the room was abnormally quiet. No rain, barely any wind, and… he rolled over to check. Nureyev wasn’t next to him in bed. That was not entirely out of the ordinary, as his insomnia often took him on long walks through the woods as he tried to find sleep, but this morning it set his teeth on edge. Something about it felt…  wrong. Like he had walked out of the door for the last time, and would never come back. 

Juno shook the thought away. It was a ridiculous notion. He loved him too much to let that happen. If Nureyev was having trouble, or looking to leave, he would have told him. Juno trusted him.

He dressed and washed his face and walked downstairs to grab some breakfast before starting to get the bar together for opening. Hopefully, the rest of the day would pass without incident, and he could chalk this nauseous, nervous feeling up to a nightmare that he couldn’t quite remember.

It was what he saw at the bar while half-way down the stairs that really made him feel sick to his stomach.

Buddy was leaned over a half-empty bottle of whisky, rubbing the bridge of her nose, tear tracks shiny on her face. That bottle had been full when he had replaced it on the shelf last night. She never drank this early in the morning, and never that much. Always said it made her unfit to serve the public or interact with any decent human being. Jet, the man she had employed as a bar bouncer when times were better, was standing next to her, a large hand on her shoulder. He was crying too. Buddy only called him when things were drastic, like when their latest whiskey shipment had been stolen by pirates on its way to the bar.

And then there was Rita.

Rita, who wore her heart and its many thoughts on her sleeve like a badge of honor for her humanity, was nearly silent. She was snot-nosed and puffy-eyed, like she had been crying for hours, and said absolutely nothing outside of the occasional sniffle and a quiet request for Jet to grab her a glass of milk from the kitchen.

Juno thought he might hurl right there on the stairs. A silent Rita was new. Juno had known her for years, and she had never stopped talking once.

What the hell had happened?

He cautiously came down the rest of the stairs and approached the bar. Buddy looked up at his approach and tried to wipe some of the tears from her face just as Jet returned from the kitchen with the milk for Rita. “Good morning, Juno.”

“Hey, big guy,” Juno responded, nodding in Jet’s direction before looking at each one of the weeping figures in turn. “What happened? You guys look like hell. Did we get another snowstorm in the middle of the night or something?”

The three of them exchanged a look that Juno couldn’t quite decipher before Buddy answered.

“I think Rita can answer that question better than Jet or I can,” she croaked before downing another swig of whisky.

Juno turned to Rita and reached out to wipe a stray hair out of her face. “Hey, Rita, what happened? It’s okay, it can’t be that bad, right?”

At that, Rita burst into tears again. “It is, it really is that bad, Mista Steel! You don’t get it! It’s the worst thing! It’s about Mista Nureyev!”

Juno’s heart dropped through the floor the second she said his name. “Rita. Rita, look at me. Rita. DAMMIT, I need you to tell me what happened to him.”

Rita looked at him then, with such a look of despair and heartbreak on her face that Juno’s heart ached for her. And then he realized. He knew that expression. It was nearly second nature to him. He had seen it every morning on his own face in the mirror after Benten had-

And then he knew.

He breathed in, breathed out. Took a step back. The floor was spinning. He dropped to his knees. “No. No it can’t- no, no, no, no, this can’t be right, Nureyev can’t be…”

Rita nodded, tears still flowing steadily down her face as she clambered off the bar stool to hug Juno. “He came back after dark last night, and I thought he was actin’ real sketchy, so I watched him for a while, and then when the sun started comin’ up, he packed up some stuff and left, but I followed him, only he didn’t know, ‘cause I acted real sneaky-like, and he went to a train station that I’m pretty sure wasn’t there before, and he met these big, creepy guys, and they gave him paypawork to sign, ‘cause I think they were makin’ some kinda deal, and once Mista Nureyev signed it, he fell down and started coughin’, and then one of the big guys said somethin’ about not havin’ enough time to wait for him to die, and then the otha one pulled out a huuuuuge knife, and then he- then he-”

She burst into sobs again on Juno’s shoulder. His ears were ringing and he knew his face was deathly pale. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Buddy looked at him hollowly from the bar. “Rita said he called your name. It was the last thing he did before he… before they loaded his body up onto a train and left.”

‘He called your name. It was the last thing he did before he died.’ And Juno didn’t even hear him. He hadn’t been paying attention. How long had he been calling? How long had Juno been ignoring him? Why was he only now hearing his echo instead of his voice? How pathetic was he, that he prioritized a fucking song over his husband? What was wrong with him? But of course, as soon as he realized his problem, it was already too late to solve it. 

He never got to say goodbye.

Dimly, Juno realized he was shivering and tears were flowing down his face and Rita was apologizing profusely that she didn’t do anything to try and save him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so horrible about himself. 

Now, it was all over. He’d lost him forever, and it was all his fault.

He would never get to see Peter Nureyev again.

He sat there, curled up on the floor for a moment longer before a different wave of feeling crept over him.

No.

No.

This was not the end. He wouldn’t let it be the end.

He was going to get his husband back if it was the last thing he ever did.

He sat up, wiped the tears from his face, and grabbed Rita by the shoulders, lightly shaking her out of her self-deprecating ramble.

“Rita. Rita, look at me. I need you to tell me everything you know about the Underworld. It’s important. Really important.”

“Well,” Rita sniffled, wiping her face on the sleeves of her sky blue sweater, “I heard a while back about there bein’ a back door. A way to get in without havin’ to actually, ya know, die or somethin’.”

Jet nodded sagely. “This is true. I walked that road with a friend of mine years ago, trying to save people from unwise decisions.”

“It’s not easy though, Mista Steel. The road is reeeeeaaaaally long and difficult, and with the weatha bein’ the way is it, you could get caught in a storm and get hurt, and I don’t want you to get hurt, Mista Steel!!”

Buddy looked at Juno again, an odd kind of hollow despair marking her face, like she saw something in Juno’s set jaw and bright eyes that made her want to disappear. “I know what you’re thinking, Juno, and it won’t work. I’ve tried. Believe me.”

“I’m not going to give up on him this easily.” There was a defiant flame rising in him now, melting the shards of his broken heart back into a semblance of hope. “I can get him back. I know I can.”

Jet walked over from his perch next to Buddy and crouched on the floor next to Juno. “Rita is right, Juno. The road to Hadestown is not an easy one to take, which is why I must ask you: how far are you willing to go for your husband?”

The flame grew into a wildfire. 

“To the ends of the fucking earth.”

There was silence as Jet examined him for a moment longer, face expressionless, before letting out a small sigh and standing up again. “Very well then. Pack your things. I will take you to where the road to Hadestown begins. If you are going to make stupid choices, I will at least make sure you can begin making them safely.”

Buddy started shaking her head vehemently. “No, no, no. You can’t let him go, Jet darling, he’s just going to get himself killed too. It’s not safe.”

“And yet you took the same course of action all those years ago, Buddy. What does that say about you?”

A muscle in Buddy’s jaw twitched as she took another long swig of whiskey. Juno slowly stood up, like a prey animal caught between two predators trying to remain ignored. He desperately wanted to know what had happened between the two of them, but somehow got the impression that any requests to know would be soundly ignored. 

Buddy glared at Jet with one sharp eye, but said nothing.

Jet sighed again and put a large hand on Juno’s shoulder. “Go grab your things. We will leave in two hours.”

“Wait for me, Mista Steel! I’m comin’ too! I gotta go get my stuff and then I’ll go with ya! Lil old Rita isn’t as fast as she used to be! Wait up!”

Juno sprinted up the stairs, Rita’s voice carrying after him. And in spite of the loss he had just suffered, he was grinning.

Hang on, Nureyev. Just a little longer.

He was going to get his husband back. At any cost.

[batchilla]

When I saw that you had posted Chapter 2 for YKIKR, something lit up inside of me. You absolutely deserve the praise you received for Chapter 1. It was delectable! And I knew that this would be just as delicious to take in. Dick Grayson is back in the building (aka my brain), and he's a welcome presence. Fun fact, but Saturdays are always blue to me, so this being posted on a Saturday feels so fitting because that's his color. (Also, I'm in awe that my ask about Chapter 1 is something you think about daily. But it makes me glad that I send these asks to writers.)

I love how we just see the Reader (who I'm dubbing DR, for Detective Reader, from now on) absolutely want to kill Dick for this. Because y'know what, I'd want to kill him too! He drops by DR's apartment late at night as Nightwing, all but confirming the theory he and Dick Grayson are the same, and yet this man is somehow awake, functioning, and presentable. That's evil to me. (Not in the normal evil way, but I mean, how can you be all three before nine in the morning. I'm only ever functioning and presentable before nine in the morning, I'm never truly awake until eleven.)

Sincerely, I would kick him and find a way to frame it as an accident. Just to frumple him up somehow, if that were possible.

Also, can we talk about this paragraph you wrote in Dick's perspective, the one where he thinks how, "It wasn’t that he objected to her as a partner - short of his family, she was possibly the best he’d ever met. Frankly, if she was transferred to Gotham, the bat signal would be turned on far less frequently."

LIKE HELLO?? I see that as an absolute win!! That is a wild comparison to make (at least to me, with what I know about the Batfamily), that's amazing! If DR were in Gotham, she'd be run ragged, but he's right. The bat signal would probably be turned on less frequently. And I love how he just....god, he feels so bright here. He's always been bright to me in a way that makes you want to be enveloped by the brightness. And that's what I read him as here, and that younger version of me is sitting right next to me, reading and feeling the same way. I know I said it last time, but you really have portrayed him so well. I may be older, but god does it feel like time had stopped and only now resumed.

Anyway, can we also discuss these sentences where you wrote about how Dick feels about DR's smile?? Because that floored me and made me kick my feet. That man is smitten, and I am **here** for it!! (Pretend that here was bolded, I'm drafting this ask in my notes app, lol)

But seriously, boo to McElroy. Awful man, I will not give you the time of day. (But as someone who has dealt with sexual harrassment, I think you wrote DR's perspective about him being back very tastefully, and it was realistic to me with how she would be feeling. Also Dick is gonna fuck him up at some point, I feel it in every fiber of my being. Even if he doesn't do so in the manner we, the readers, would expect. Because, the claws may not have receded, but they have relaxed. You've got something going on here.)

I love that Dick trusts her. He's only gotten an introduction from McIdiot (that's his name now, to me), but he trusts DR's gut. He saw her reaction to the guy. The venom he held back will intermingle with the words in his throat at some point (I'm typing this as I read), and they will make for a dangerous pair.

Moving on, I do want to say I laughed out loud when this line popped up: "Was it deceptive? Well, no more than anything else he did as Nightwing… well, maybe a little more. "

Because honestly, yeah, anything he does as Nightwing is technically deceptive. But the framing of this line......okay, it reminded me of a literary technique we learned the actual name of in one of my lit classes (I'm an English major; I didn't know the formal name for the term, but I knew what it was): free indirect discourse. Obviously, this is fanfiction, and yada yada yada yah, but like. It's so funny, idk. I love it. (It is not my favorite/the best bit ((imo)), though!! That's at the end :) )

For a few seconds, I forgot this series had so much going on besides the romance aspects, lol. And I really enjoy when that happens, because it makes my reading experience better all the more. Like, they're mutually crushing on one another, and one of them is a superhero, and oh yeah, they're tracking a serial killer. I love the intermingling of ideas.

Also, he really did commit the cheesiest move known to history. Pebbles at the window.....Dick Grayson/Nightwing would. (I think both personas would, personally.)

Your style is so hilarious to read. I love the way your thoughts blend into the story, the way you weave funny little bits in. Your articulation, your word choice are both awesome (think of it in the way you'd see the word used before our time, like how it was used in the early 1900s). I love seeing you bleed into the story, even if it's just a little bit.

The fact that Dick still thinks DR doesn't know he's Nightwing is the best thing, to me. It's a great situation because he's misreading his own last name to keep a cover he's already lost. What a ham. I mean, he blew it when he asked abkut himself first, and now he's finding out how he's given away details of who he could be during his non-superhero time. And that's the second best part of this chapter to me, that he gets to see that if you paid close enough attention (like DR!!), anyone with a good head on their shoulders could piece together that he is (at the very least) a superhero.

DR seeing Dick as a corrupt cop (whether or not to make it so he doesn't catch on to her knowing his double identity) is a great detail. Because now there's this risk for him. He has to shut down that idea for her, but he can't make it obvious, he can't interfere too much as Nightwing. That's like giving an affidavit, confessing Dick Grayson was the first Robin, and now is Nightwing.

Did I want to howl in pain from the idea you placed in front of me that Dick Grayson would never get to tell DR how wonderful she is, that he'll never get to confess to her? Yes. But that's the beauty of this duel identity. Although, I'd like to point out that you wrote that, "he’d never feel that warmth of 10,000 stars directed at the real him", with the key phrase here being the real him.

AND DON'T THINK I MISSED THAT PRINCESS BRIDE REFERENCE WITH THE "As You Wish" THING. (Unless I'm reading too much into this, and it is not a reference, lol. In that case, pretend you did not see this.) That does so much here, and I know you know what you did with this. But know that I know what you did with this, and it makes me insane.

If I could, I'd reach through my phone screen and shake you right now. Oh my goddddddddddddd!!!!!!! Okay, onto my favorite/the best part (imo) before I go balls to the walls insane.

The best part of this chapter, to me, was when you wrote how Dick knew what it felt like to fly. And that DR made him feel that way, if not better. To have (as you wrote) "gravity become an afterthought" because of a person must be an exhilerating and fantastic experience. For that to be how Dick feels about her. After everything he's gone through - everything he's experienced - it's amazing. It does something to me, gives me this unknown feeling that rides my train of thought. I love it.

Anywho, I love this. Thanks again for writing and for being you. Have a great night!! Sorry for the length of this. (I know last time you said not to apologize, but I wrote so much, and I never know if people are in the mood to read this much about a reader's thoughts. Also!! The formatting of this worked!!)

Im going to freak out about this later. Because I’m ✨with people✨ and can’t take ten minutes to write the reply this deserves. So see you in an hour or so.

Please don’t apologise because responses like this are my main motivation for writing, and they mean the absolute world to me.

Im at a shopping centre with my child sibling and im trying not to cry because then I’ll have to tell this kid that I write about fictional men I wanna smooch.

[tolietpaperdreams]

HYSTERIA CHAPTER 3

You’ll be happy to know that I'm a liar 🫶🏻

Got a little carried away, and Hysteria is now going to be four parts! How exciting, hope everyone likes angst cause this chapter is FULL of it.

Thank you for reading as always love ya 💕

New couples always seemed to have the habit of not being able to keep their hands off of each other. Bret and Shawn were no exception to that. Bret specifically, found a libido that he thought he’d lost.

He was enamored with Shawn’s body, every reaction and noise the blonde made to his touches drove him wild. If he wasn’t thinking about work, he was thinking about the next position he could put Shawn in.

At first, no one else seemed to notice or care that Bret and Shawn would sneak off to the supply closet or how neither of them wanted to go out and party after a show, instead rushing back to the hotel room to celebrate by themselves.

Everything was fine until Scott came into the locker room one day pissed about how he couldn't sleep the night before.

“I swear to god man, all I could hear was ‘Ohhh don't stop Bret!! Your dick is so big!! Keep fucking me oohhhh my gooood!!’” Scott mocked Shawn’s voice as high-pitched and girlie, but he got the point across.

Bret wasn't as comfortable talking about his sex life in front of the others as Shawn was. He didn't seem to care at all if he was getting made fun of by his friends, but maybe that was just how comfortable they all were with each other. Just sitting there listening to Scott describe in detail everything he heard made Bret’s face feel hot.

He hadn't even told Owen, Jim, or Davey what had been going on yet. It was obvious that Owen had his suspicions, his little brother knew him better than most and could tell there was a reason that Bret didn't seem as miserable. Jim and Davey on the other hand were sort of bitter that Bret hadn't been hanging around as much, only showing up when they were working or traveling. It had only been a few weeks, but he still felt bad about the distance.

“I’ve walked into the showers and Bret’s tongue has been all the way down Shawn’s asshole, and you're complaining about some moaning?” Kevin retorted, shivering at the memory.

Bret felt the color drain from his face. That was not something he had planned on reliving anytime soon. It was an accident. Sort of.

After a particularly fun house show one night, Bret was feeling a little adventurous. He'd never tried it before and Shawn wasn't going to say no to something that felt good. Kevin just walked into the showers at a horrible time.

The act itself was fantastic, it was just Kevin’s screams of horror that made Bret’s skin crawl at the memory. He still took Shawn back to the hotel that night and finished the job.

“Okay okay,” Shawn said chuckling and waving his hands in surrender, “That's enough about my asshole.”

Bret let out a sigh of relief.

“But it’s such a hot topic around here lately,” Hunter added conveniently as he walked into the locker room.

“You’d know wouldn't you?” Kid nodded in Hunter’s direction.

Bret really hoped that was a joke because the last thing he needed was to suddenly start acting jealous around Shawn’s friends. He liked Hunter and thought he was a good guy with a level head on his shoulders, but Bret didn't share very well.

Shawn must have sensed the quick shift in Bret’s demeanor so he reached over and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, “They’re stupid.”

Squeezing back, Bret returned the smile. He trusted Shawn and his friends weren't bad, maybe a little immature for his taste, but they had each other’s backs.

“No, but I would know what your mom’s looks like,” Hunter jabbed back, earning a punch on his shoulder from Kid.

Hunter laughed and rubbed his shoulder before continuing, “Anyways, the boss wants to see you two,” he pointed in Bret and Shawn’s direction.

Kevin broke the long silence that followed, “That can't be good.”

***

The time had come. Bret knew it was coming eventually, but he’d spent so much time shoving it into the back of his brain with everything else going on that it hadn't been a major factor up until now.

Bret would drop the belt to Shawn.

It wasn't because he had done anything wrong; he'd been the champion for months. It was Shawn’s turn to be at the top, it was as simple as that. Bret had put other performers over plenty of times, he wasn't a sore loser, but for some reason, hearing it out loud from the boss made his gut drop.

They walked out of Vince’s office in silence. Shawn didn't seem to have a reaction; maybe he was too scared to show Bret how he was feeling about it.

“I think I should um…” Bret stopped, he didn't know what the next move was, “I think I need to talk to Owen.”

“Good idea,” Shawn kept his tone neutral, but his face was dejected.

Bret didn't have the guts to meet his eyes, “I’ll see you tonight.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that lasted far too long. Bret should say something, he should congratulate Shawn on this, but his own feelings about dropping the belt swelled up. He leaned in and gave Shawn a quick kiss before walking away, leaving the blonde standing in the hall.

It was a horrible thing to do, leaving Shawn standing there, but he wasn't sure what else to do. He owed him an apology, but first, he had to see Owen and fill his brother in on the situation. There was no one else he could talk to.

When Bret found Owen back at the hotel, he didn’t hesitate to spill everything he had been holding back. He told Owen about Shawn, their newly budding romance, dropping the belt, his mixed feelings about it, and feeling terrible about being distant. It was like he word-vomited trying to get his point across, not letting Owen get a word in.

“I don't know if I can do this,” Bret was sitting on the couch in Owen’s room as he raved about his predicament.

He could hardly believe he was coming to his youngest brother for a problem like this, but Owen had a family. In a way, his brother was more emotionally mature than him.

“So you’re fucking Shawn?” Owen asked, ignoring every other part of Bret’s tirade.

Exhaling through his nose, Bret gave his brother a look, “Yes, Owen.”

“Davey owes me twenty bucks.”

“You guys bet on this?” Bret scoffed.

“Jim did too, but he was on my side,” Owen said nonchalantly.

“Owen!”

“Sorry,” His brother shrugged, “Are you using protection?”

“Jesus Christ dude, I can't knock him up,” He regretted his decision to talk already.

“I know but- y’know,” Owen raised a brow.

Bret was quick to defend, “I don't like what you're implying.”

“I’m not implying anything!” Owen held his hands up in surrender, “I don't know how guys do ‘stuff.’”

Bret could feel his head begin to throb, “Owen, I didn't come here to tell you about my sex life.”

“I mean you kinda did.”

He was starting to think that he deserved this torment from his little brother.

“Whatever, that's not what I meant,” Bret exhaled again, wanting to start the conversation over, “The belt. What should I do?”

The answer was right there. Drop the belt. Shawn deserved it, he worked his ass off to prove himself in the company so what was the problem? Was he just selfish? He’d run off from Shawn in the hallway like he was diseased; he couldn’t imagine what the blonde was even thinking right now.

“Drop the belt,” Owen said without hesitation.

“It’s not that simple,” Bret shook his head, eyes locked on the floor.

“You said it wasn’t that simple about having feelings for Shawn too but it literally was. So now is the first test of the relationship, are you willing to give up the title for him?”

“That’s the problem,” Bret sighed and moved his gaze to his little brother, “I don’t know if I am.”

Owen didn’t say anything for a moment; like he was considering his words very carefully.

“Then maybe you’re not ready to be with him.”

It was a gut punch. It hurt more than it should have, which is how Bret knew it might be the truth. He didn’t want to break up with Shawn, they were still in the process of getting to know each other in the romantic sense. It was still the beginning, and for the first time in his life, Bret didn’t feel so alone.

He had thought he was ready for a relationship the moment they kissed, but was it all in his head? They moved so fast that Bret had mentally left the belt in the dust. It was the thing that he had worked tirelessly for, for decades. And in the end, the excitement of the new relationship would fade, wouldn’t it? Shawn would probably get bored and move on, but just the thought of that made Bret sick to his stomach.

Shawn was undoubtedly one of the greatest things to happen to him, but was it too good to be true?

***

That night at the hotel, Bret was still distant and stand-offish. Shawn offered him a spot to go to dinner with the guys but he declined, he told the blonde to go enjoy himself and that he deserved it. It was the closest thing he’d given Shawn to a ‘congratulations.’

He thought about going to make amends with Jim and Davey, but Owen told him he would pass word to them after their talk.

So that left Bret to sit and stare at the ceiling. He could go work out, but his head wasn’t in it. He missed Shawn and wanted to hold him and apologize for being weird about this, but he saw the look on Shawn’s face when he told him he didn’t feel like eating out.

He noticed the way that Shawn clenched his jaw and the sadness in his eyes. God, he was such a jerk. A selfish jerk. Shawn was the type, despite his good looks and cocky attitude, that needed some reassurance now and then. Bret had a lot to think about, but he shouldn’t tear Shawn down in the process.

An idea popped into his head after a while. He would go down the street to a little corner store and get Shawn some flowers. Or a card. Anything to show the blonde that he was happy for him and sorry for acting funny.

Half an hour later, he did exactly that. Bret had no idea what he was doing as he stood around and stared at all the different options. Roses were too corny, but Lilies didn’t scream ‘Shawn’ to him. He was the opposite of a kid in a candy store, whatever that would be.

“Can I help you?” A tiny old woman asked from behind the counter.

That social awkwardness that always caused Bret’s throat to close up when he talked to new people reared its ugly head, “Uh, I don’t- I’m not sure- “ He took a second and cleared his throat, “Yes, I need some help.”

“Well, what’s the occasion?” She moved from behind the counter over to Bret.

The old lady was over a foot shorter than him but for some reason, he was the one that lacked confidence. He was very out of his element.

“I need to apologize to my- to someone,” Bret gave the lady an unsure look.

“Not very good with words, are you, sweetheart?” The lady gave him a gentle pat on the arm.

He shook his head in response, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Well that's quite alright, you’re in the right place,” She grabbed a small bouquet of some flowers he didn’t recognize.

“Orchids, dear,” She looked them over for impurities, “They symbolize strength and unity, a very resilient flower.”

That’s exactly what he needed.

“How much?”

***

Back at the hotel, Bret paced back and forth as he waited for Shawn to come back. The old lady at the shop gave him a deal on the flowers and told him that everything would be alright. It was like she read his body language to a tee.

He wasn’t one for trusting strangers much, but she seemed nice enough. Hopefully, Orchids would do the trick.

Yelling down the hallway snapped Bret out of his thoughts. He could recognize that voice in a heartbeat; Shawn was always loud with his friends and he didn’t much care whenever someone filed a noise complaint in a hotel or somewhere else.

Holding the flowers behind his back, Bret waited for the door to unlock and to greet Shawn with a much better attitude. But the door never unlocked, instead, he was met with loud banging on the door and a much different voice.

“Bret! Get out here!”

Hunter’s voice. Of course, it was Hunter, it was always him. Bret quickly shoved the flowers into a nightstand drawer and moved to answer the door.

As soon as he opened it, he was met with a very pissed-off Hunter, but no Shawn.

He raised a brow, immediately confused, “Did you lose him or something? I thought I just heard his voice.”

“No, he went to my room,” Hunter said with no amusement.

A spike of jealousy ran down his spine, but she shoved it down.

“Why?” Bret knew this was leading nowhere good.

“Because,” Hunter continued, “Shawn spent the entire dinner ‘boohooing’ about how you started to give him the cold shoulder after you met with Vince today.”

Bret tried, but was interrupted, “I can explain-“

“You don’t need to. The moment it came time for you to put someone else above yourself, you flaked,” Hunter was not open to hearing Bret out.

It was personal now; because it wasn’t that Hunter was irritated about Bret being too dumb to see the signals that Shawn was sending, but now it was about how Bret hard hurt Shawn. It clearly didn’t sit well with the younger man.

“Just let me talk to him,” Bret did his best to keep his cool, this could all be explained. He would tell Shawn that he was sorry and that he was stupid to even second-guess anything.

Hunter huffed, ”You guys are adults, you can talk to him all you want, but I doubt he’ll listen.”

“Why are you even here?” Bret scoffed, the ability to stay calm was suddenly fleeting.

Shawn had run off to another man’s bedroom, and Bret was the one getting a lecture. It was almost comical.

”Because I was trying to give you a heads up, dickhead. Shawn’s not exactly-“

Before Hunter could finish, there was a loud crash from down the hall. A glass bottle shattered outside the door of Hunter’s room.

“Hitman!” Shawn yelled, emerging into the hallway. He was angry and intoxicated.

Bret’s gut dropped, there was no dealing with Shawn when he was like this. It wasn’t the Shawn he’d gotten to know behind closed doors; the one that loved to watch the TV on low volume because he secretly craved the quiet or the one that woke Bret up with sweet kisses all over his face just because he wanted to. No, this was the Heartbreak Kid. The showboat and antagonist.

He couldn't think of anything to do; he hadn't dealt with Shawn when he was like this. This was the first time it was his problem, at least. Bret gave Hunter a pleading look, but he knew that ultimately, Shawn was his to handle now.

“Shawn, you should keep it down,” Bret suggested.

It wasn’t a command; he just didn’t want to deal with a noise complaint while also managing to get Shawn to calm down.

”Oh, so now you can tell me what to do?” Shawn slurred as he made his way over to them, “I don’t think so, champ. Or should I say soon-to-be ‘former’ champ?”

The jab hit its mark. Bret knew he couldn’t take anything that Shawn said at the moment seriously, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.

”Just come inside so we can go to bed,” he urged, putting a hand on Shawn’s shoulder.

”Don’t touch me,” The blonde mumbled and half-assedly jerked away, “You hate me.”

”I don’t hate you, Shawn. We can talk about this in the morning,” Bret moved more into the hallway so he could steer Shawn in the right direction.

He jerked away again from Bret’s touch, this time weakly swatting his arm, “He hates me,” he said again towards Hunter.

”Shawn you need to go to bed,” Was all Hunter added.

”Fine,” Shawn grumpily pointed at Bret, “But I’m not going with you.”

Bret shook his head. That was not acceptable. Shawn was drunk and needed to be taken care of, and it was Bret’s job to do so. Maybe there were some ground rules they needed to set because Bret was not comfortable with Shawn sleeping in another man’s room. Even if it was just to sleep.

“Honey-” Bret tried, but Shawn butt in.

“Don’t ‘honey’ me, you jerk,” Shawn drunkenly shoved a finger into Bret’s chest, “I just said you don't get to tell me what to do.”

“It’ll shut him up if you just let him come with me,” Hunter added.

It wasn't that Bret didn’t trust Hunter, but this situation was just not ideal. He was failing at being a good partner; he couldn't even get Shawn to sleep in the same room with him.

“No, I'm sleeping out here,” Shawn crossed his arms, like an angry child.

“You're not sleeping in the hallway!” Both Bret and Hunter said at the same time.

Bret didn’t see another option at this point, he needed to set his feelings aside. At last, he relented.

”Okay fine, take him to yours,” He sighed and gave Hunter a look, both of them knowing that just taking Shawn to Hunter’s room till he passed out was probably the easiest option, “Just get some water into him if you can.”

“Not my first time,” Hunter shrugged as he turned a pouty Shawn away and led him to his room.

Once they were gone, Bret went back inside and sat on the bed. He pulled the Orchids out from the drawer and stroked a purple petal with his thumb. Everything had gone so much worse than he thought.

***

Bret left the hotel door unlocked in case Shawn decided to come wandering back into their room in the night, but he hadn’t shown.

The Orchids were now moved into a makeshift vase made out of the paper coffee cups that the hotel had lying around.

Hopefully, after the catastrophe that was last night, Shawn would hear him out. Bret knew he was wrong in his initial reaction to dropping the belt, but he was doing his best to fix it. Owen’s words rang through his head. Maybe you’re not ready to be with him. That couldn’t be right. Owen didn’t know what he was talking about.

That morning, Bret saw that Shawn’s stuff was still in the room, so there was hope. He got up and got dressed for the gym. They had to hit the road at noon, but there was still plenty of time. He would hit the hotel gym and hope that Shawn was in the room when he came back. He left the orchids out as a peace offering.

The sight of Shawn sitting on the bed when came back from his workout startled him. Evidently, the blonde was a little worse for wear. His long hair was unkempt and he looked exhausted, but that's what alcohol did.

“Hey,” Bret offered gently, entering the room and tossing his gym bag on the nearby couch.

Shawn looked up from where his chin was resting on his hands, “Hey.”

“You feeling okay?” He wanted to approach the blonde but was hesitant.

“Yeah I'm- I'm fine,” Shawn answered softly, remorse in his voice.

They sat in silence for a moment before Bret finally made a move. He walked over to Shawn and grabbed his hand, urging him to stand. Neither said anything as Bret pulled Shawn into a hug. The blonde melted in his arms, burying his face into Bret’s neck.

This was the Shawn he knew. The one that was secretly needy and wanted comfort. They did have to talk about everything but for the moment, Bret was content to stand there and hold Shawn till he was ready to talk. It was a hiccup. Relationships had hiccups, didn't they?

Bret pressed a kiss into Shawn’s hair and gave a reassuring squeeze around his waist. They stayed like that for a while longer before Shawn broke the silence.

“Was that our first fight?” His voice was slightly muffled from where he dug his face into the crook of Bret’s neck.

He let out a small laugh in response, “No way.”

“Our first one as a…” Shawn stood up straight and pointed a finger back and forth between them, “Whatever we’re calling this.”

“Well,” Bret still held onto Shawn’s hand as they both sat down on the edge of the bed, “What do you want to call it?”

He wasn't expecting the bombshell that Shawn hit him with.

“I know what I want to call this, but I don't think you do,” Shawn said, remorsefully.

Bret didn't fully understand what Shawn was getting at. There was a lot they had to discuss, but he thought they were eventually going to get the hang of this.

“What do you mean?” Bret asked, thumb stroking over Shawn’s knuckles, much like he did with the flower petal the night prior.

“I know what I want, Bret,” Shawn said directly.

“Well, I’m willing to give you whatever you want,” Bret added.

Shawn shook his head and sighed, “You’re not listening.”

“What?”

“You’re not hearing what I'm saying,” Shawn squeezed Bret’s hand for emphasis, “What do you want?”

“What I want doesn't matter-”

“Are we just going to sit here and pretend that yesterday didn't happen? That the moment we found out about the title change you didn’t become a different person?” Shawn explained as he took his hand away from Bret’s.

“You wouldn't even talk to me, let alone tell me how you were feeling,” Shawn continued, “You want the easy answer, the quickest fix, and that's not going to work.”

The remnants of Shawn’s touch almost stung. Bret wanted it back, wanted all the fighting to stop. Maybe he did only want the easy way out.

“I got overwhelmed and I'm sorry,” Bret reached for the blonde’s hand again but was met with him pulling away, “It was just a lot to take in at the time, I'm fine now. I wouldn't want to drop the belt to anyone else.”

Maybe you're not ready to be with him. Those stupid words haunted Bret’s thoughts again. Putting doubts into every little thing he said.

“It’s not about the belt, Bret,” He could see the frustration rise on Shawn’s face, “It’s about the fact that I feel like I don't even know you.”

Bret stood, suddenly irritated, “You spent the last three months trying to piss me off every chance you got, but I have to take a little time to think about a giant career change, and all the sudden ‘you don't know me?’”

“You don't think I deserve it,” Shawn stood and got in his face, “You just want to give me what I want so I’ll shut up.”

“Don’t tell me what I think,” Bret’s tone darkened, “And don’t act like you're totally innocent in this.”

“What are you talking about?” Shawn huffed.

“I’m starting to wonder if I need to be concerned about Hunter,” Bret accused as he met Shawn’s glare.

The shock on Shawn’s face was apparent, “Excuse me?”

“You slept in his room last night, why don't you tell me all about your sleepover with your ‘best friend?’ Bret knew he was reaching, but he was looking for any sort of ground to stand on.

Shawn’s tone softened, hurt by Bret’s accusation, “Don’t talk about Hunter that way.”

“Oh, so I do need to be concerned?” Bret was losing his senses; he was never good at losing an argument.

“You don’t know shit about the things Hunter and I have been through together,” The blonde shook his head, “To even think…”

Bret quickly realized he had gone too far, “Shawn, you're right, I shouldn't have-”

“Call me when you're ‘ready to be with me,’” Shawn said dismissively and turned to grab his things.

“Who did- how-” Bret wanted to claw his own skin off.

“You think I wasn't gonna talk to your brother after you disappeared all day?” Shawn tossed his bag over his shoulder and walked past Bret.

“Shawn wait- that's not-” Bret turned to plead with the other man.

Shawn stopped by the table where the Orchids sat in their poor excuse for a vase.

He gently touched a petal and sighed, “I’m sorry about last night, but I can't handle the thought of being with someone who's unsure about being with me.”

***

Bret drove the five hours to the next show alone. It gave him a lot of time to think, but of course, the only person on his mind was Shawn. How in that last moment before Shawn left the room, he saw the blonde reach for the Orchids but left them sitting there in the end. The sudden spike of hope shot down.

There was no anger at Shawn; only sadness. Bret had let him down. And he didn't know how or when, but he’d have to fix it. For real this time.

It was late afternoon when he arrived at the arena for the next house show. He thought about looking for Shawn or the guys but he knew that if he showed his face around Hunter, Scott, Kevin, or even Kid it was no use. They were Shawn’s friends first.

Which left Bret to find Owen, Davey, and Jim backstage. Sudden anger boiled in his gut once he laid eyes on his little brother. He felt betrayed.

“Fucking asshole,” He dropped his bag and charged after Owen, pushing him into the wall, “Do you have any fucking idea what you've done?”

“What’s your problem?” Owen pushed back, but Bret had a grip on his t-shirt.

Jim and Davey moved in to separate the two, but Bret held tight.

“You had to tell him everything, didn't you?” Bret was seething.

“I was being honest, dickhead. Get off of me!” Owen gripped onto Bret’s wrists, trying to push him back.

Bret wouldn't hit his brother. He knew he wouldn't, but that didn't mean he wouldn't teach Owen a lesson.

The force of Jim, Davey, and Owen together finally forced Bret to let go and he was pushed back, hard.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jim looked between the brothers, shocked at what he was seeing.

“You just wanted me to lie to him?” Owen questioned, ignoring what Jim was saying.

“You piece of shit, you told him I wasn't ready,” Bret’s voice cracked, anger and sadness all mixing together to create something much worse.

Davey and Jim were obviously confused but didn't interject.

“All I did was tell him what I got out of the conversation,” Owen snapped back, “Sorry for trying to save feelings.”

“You didn't save any feelings, Owen!” Bret didn't realize there were tears in his eyes until it was too late, “He left.”

“Who left, what’s going on?” Davey interjected.

“This is on you, Bret. I did what anyone else would have done,” Owen spat unapologetically.

It was too late, Bret was too overwhelmed. The frustrated tears fell down his face and he couldn't stop them. He was embarrassed and desperate to blame someone even though he knew Owen was right. The tears weren't there if he didn't acknowledge them, but Davey and Jim were already giving him sympathetic looks.

The belt, Shawn, how he’d been treating his friends and brother lately, it was all too much. He was made to handle the pressure; he was built to take hit after hit, but this time it all came crashing down.

Bret broke down and cried.

In such a short amount of time, he’d gained everything he’d ever wanted and still managed to mess it all up. His career was important to him but the belt would come and go, that’s how the beast operated.

In his few hours of doubt, Bret had managed to make Shawn feel like their relationship was one-sided. That all Bret cared about was some stupid belt, and not supporting or caring for his partner. God, he was such an idiot.

“What have I done?” Bret shoved the palms of his hands into his eyes, desperate to stop the tears. He couldn't be seen like this, his friends couldn’t see him lose control. He didn’t cry, he’d never cry.

“Hey man, it’s alright,” Jim put a hand on his shoulder, “Whatever it is, it’s gonna be okay.”

Bret continued to viciously wipe at the tears but they just kept coming. He couldn’t stop them. Even Owen didn’t seem angry anymore as he came over to comfort him.

Bret shook his head, “You guys shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Oh shut up,” Davey rolled his eyes, but there was a tenderness in his voice, “Yes we do.”

Where would he even begin to explain what was going on? Owen knew, but he didn’t know the events of last night or this morning. How both he and Shawn had said regrettable things, but Bret was the one who had done the most damage.

Owen made Bret look at him; he knew his eyes were red and puffy but his brother kept his gaze.

“Bret, Shawn never said anything about wanting to leave you,” Owen said as gently as he could, “He just wants you to be sure.”

“This is about Shawn?” Jim asked, still frustrated at being left out of the loop.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Bret forced out, still doing everything could to try to push his emotions down, to no avail.

“Shawn told me everything, Bret. He doesn’t care about the belt, he’s hurt because he wants the real deal with you and he thinks you don't,” Owen explained.

Why wouldn’t Shawn just tell him that himself? He stewed on it for a moment, but then remembered how good he was at expressing his feelings and knew he had no standing. Wouldn't Hunter have said something? But then again, maybe he was just trying to protect his friend.

“I’m sorry for everything,” Bret’s voice sounded weak and he hated it, but the thought of Shawn wanting nothing to do with him was so much worse.

Owen pulled him into a hug, “You don't have to be perfect to deserve love, Bret.”

Such a simple statement, but he didn't know if he could believe it.