#hopefully I’ll render it later this weekend

[mauswyx]

quick tommy sketch :p

[ninevehgames]

I was considering this the entire way through production, and going back and forth on it, and even now there is definitely a large chunk of me that agrees with you. This reply isn’t going to be me defending me choices because I don’t think you’re wrong!

We have to go all the way back to the first thing I was doing in preproduction phase where I was first getting my bearings and figuring out if I could even do it. My absolutely naïve brain thought that if I cut out all the interstitials I’d have an audio file about a half hour long, and that would be only six times longer than the longest animation I’d done. “If I pace myself this time and chop away at it, I’ll have enough energy to tackle this without completely burning myself out.” I chop up all the audio into the different vignettes because I’m planning to have a different setup file for every different section so I can tackle each section as its own project, and I do not check the final runtime they add up to.

The “if I pace myself” thing? No. I built the lego assets, did some render tests on how many corners I could cut to speed those renders up without sacrificing too much quality, and then I had the intro segment done within 3 days of starting. It became clear to me very fast that I am very bad at not hyperfocusing. I posted a preview in the fan discord to make myself too accountable to turn back, and then finished the Pickman section in two additional days.

Then I spent a week prepping to go see some friends abroad for a week, and after I saw those friends I had an extremely bad experience flying home. So there were three weeks there where I just did not touch the project at all. I was thinking about it a lot but I was not touching it.

One constant thought that I am having through all of this is “Hey, you don’t actually have permission from the Friends to be doing this, you’re going to be posting this on Youtube, you’re about to post a half hour long video of content from people who make their living off of this without permission, the intro videos were fine but like, you could be doing ALL of this just to get a polite email to take it down that you’re going to have to comply with because you try not to be an asshole.”

So I do Lyke’s segment in 3 days, and Duvall’s in a day (Lyke was a lot more improvised, I had a firm plan for Duvall), and then I say to myself “okay, you’re too far into this project not to just block off the rest in Davinci to see what your actual run time is” and that’s when I realized I wasn’t making a half hour video, I was making a 47 minute video. I’m already banging this out at a good pace though, 6 hours after work each night, 11 hour weekend days, I’m going to be fine. But I’ll refer you back to the “no permission anxiety” thing, and that’s what’s making me go bad in the brain.

I make this compromise with my anxiety to make it shut up. I’m just going to post in-character audio only. To me, the non-in-character stuff is just as important to this whole thing, I love it, and if I cut that out, if I am not making listening to the episode redundant, I can at least like, I’m probably going to be fine? 80-90% odds. And my anxiety went from palpable to manageable.

A week and a half later I am at the end of the project. I just need to make the credits, polish up some of the scenes a little more, and I have this thought, “You could chop up some of the post-games to have that play over the credits and you’ll probably be fine.” But I was really tired at this point, I could feel the burn-out creeping into every bone, and I knew not everyone was going to like the whole thing, but everyone could find one or two favorite bits, and that was good enough to me.

I am truly sorry for this wall of text! I am really glad you liked it! And I agree with you there are definitely places it could have some better execution. And hopefully my brain will let me execute better next time I tackle a big project.

https://youtu.be/oNyf5t4soCQ

Friends at the Table: Sangfielle 21 - "At The Gates of Sapodilla"

so this guy animated basically an entire episode of Friends at the Table, and it's basically standalone so someone who hasn't listened to a second of this season could enjoy it.

for context, they're playing inhuman conditions in character, which is a game based off the voight-kampf test from blade runner.

[rocorambles]

Mission: Seduce Kuroo Tetsurou

Pair: Kuroo x Reader

Genre: NSFW, Slight Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Warnings: Degradation, Master/Pet Dynamics, Sex Toys, Overstimulation, Cum Play, Nipple Play

Prompt: "Guess I'll just have to cum inside you."

Summary: You really should have just spoken to Kuroo about your insecurities instead of letting everything spiral out of control. But that’s okay, your husband is more than happy to thoroughly remind you that you’re the only woman he’ll ever want.  

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt. (Masterlist goes live Monday 31st August 11:30pm U.K. time!) 

You stretch your arms over your head as a big yawn rumbles throughout your entire body. It’s too early for any sane person to be up, even the sun is barely creeping in through the windows of your apartment, but your husband has hardly been sane recently with the crazy amount of hours he’s been pouring into work. You’re lucky that you even woke up before he left and you smile as you hear your overgrown house cat rustle around your bathroom and bedroom, getting ready for the day. 

“Tetsurou, hurry up so you have time to eat at least a little breakfast before you head out! You’ve been skipping it too much recently. You wouldn’t want me to leave you for one of those pro-athletes you work so closely with when you become just stick and bones, would you?” 

You bite back a laugh when your husband’s messy bed hair peeks out from around the corner and hazel eyes narrow at you, but you’re not laughing when he finally saunters over to you in his suit and traps you against the kitchen counter between his long arms, leaning in so close your noses are brushing and just when you relax and close your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you, you rapidly blink your eyes open as he gives you a quick light peck before ambling off to pour himself a cup of the green tea you’d brewed. With a pout, you warm up the rice balls you’d bought last night and place them on the dining table, wrinkling your nose in displeasure at the smirk on Kuroo’s face, but it’s all forgotten as the two of you lightly chat over breakfast, Kuroo’s long legs spreading into your space across the table, your calves gently rubbing against each other as you laugh and eat. But all too soon it’s time for him to go and he gives you another loving peck before racing out the door and with a sigh, you wash the dishes before getting ready to leave for work yourself.

You love Kuroo with all your heart. Your feelings for him have only gotten stronger over the years and even after tying the knot with him, you can’t help the way your heart flutters and warmth fills your chest whenever the two of you lock eyes. But when your mind replays the teasing scene from this morning, your thighs clench and you bite your lips. Kuroo’s always been a tease and you love it as much as you hate it. No one knows how to rile you up like he does and he uses that to his advantage, rendering you a desperate, needy mess before finally making good on all his dirty promises. But lately, he hasn’t been following through. You can’t even remember the last time you’d done anything more than heatedly make out. 

At first, you had tried to be patient. You know far too well exactly why he hasn’t been in the mood recently. It’s so obvious to you. It’s obvious in the ever growing and darkening circles underneath his eyes. It’s obvious in the way he can barely stay awake when you do manage to spend some time together when he comes back home from work. It’s obvious in the way he immediately passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow. Hell, even his messy bed hair that usually defies gravity seems to slump more and more with every passing day. He’s exhausted. You’ve always loved how dedicated and hardworking Kuroo is. It’s one of the many reasons you’d fallen for him and you know how important his job is to him, but you wonder if it’s time to intervene as you watch your husband walk around your shared apartment like a zombie. Also, more selfishly, you have needs and it’s been months since you’ve been stuffed full by him and really, this is all Kuroo’s fault for training your body to constantly yearn for him after all the years he spent pleasuring you over and over again. With a determined glint in your eyes, you begin to scheme. Let Mission Seduce Kuroo Tetsurou begin.

You scan yourself in the mirror pleased with how you look in a strappy lingerie set you know drives Kuroo crazy. It’s a delicate and intricate creation of lace and ribbons that barely covers you, only accentuating the curves of your figure, but you know it’s the one strip of ribbon that travels in a single bold line between your breasts and leads up to a delicate lacy red collar wrapped around your neck that will specifically catch Kuroo’s eyes. Checking the time, you excitedly perch yourself on the bed, positioning yourself seductively, candles flickering and enhancing the mood as you wait for him, but a hour passes and you unwillingly succumb to sleep, ignorant of the way your phone buzzes with an apologetic text from Kuroo, letting you know he’d be home even later than usual. Blearily you open your eyes and wince as daylight sears your vision. Wait...daylight? You scramble to sit up and check your surroundings and your shoulders sag in frustration when you find yourself still in your lingerie set, but carefully tucked into bed, blankets wrapped around your body, Kuroo’s side of the bed empty and cold. You reach over to look at your phone, getting up to get dressed for work, when you see a new text from your husband. 

Sorry, kitten. You must have been waiting a long time for me last night. You looked absolutely beautiful. Look! I even took some pictures so I could remember. But maybe next time try not to fall asleep while the candles are still lit ^.^  

Your face heats up at the lewd pictures he’d taken of you while you were fast asleep and your heart warms at his compliment, but you stubbornly shake your head. There’s no time to be distracted. You’re still a woman on a mission. 

Attempt two takes place that weekend and you watch your husband from the shadows, lurking behind him before finally pouncing on him as he sits at his desk, answering a work phone call. You saucily wink at him as you saunter into his view and you smirk at the way he clears his throat and gulps at the sight of you dressed in nothing but his old Nekoma jersey and black thigh highs. And when you sink to your knees and arch your back just so, you almost snicker at the way he hisses when his jersey rides up and your bare ass is displayed. But he collects himself enough to firmly, but gently shove you away from him as you try to pull his boxers down and despite a few more attempts on your end, you instantly stop when he puts his phone on mute and sternly says your full name. 

But Kuroo’s always been weak against your puppy dog eyes and with a slight roll of his eyes, he beckons you to sit on his bare thigh and as he calmly and professionally continues his call, you heavily pant with your tongue lolling out, drool dripping from your mouth as you grind against his strong muscles like a bitch in heat, smearing your arousal everywhere until you’re almost sliding back and forth against the taut surface. And as he clenches his muscles and digs his leg further up into you, your body convulses and he barely has time to end the call before you loudly moan as you ride out your orgasm. He whispers filthy praises into your ear about what a good slut you are, what a desperate pet you are, what a mess you’ve made all over master’s leg, but when you finally exhaustedly slump onto his chest, he peppers butterfly kisses all over your face and holds you for a few minutes before carrying you to the bathroom and washing both of you off despite your protests that you still want to play more. 

He at least has the decency to apologetically kiss you for ending things so abruptly as he throws on slacks and a button-up before rushing off to work to take care of the emergency he had just been on a call about despite the fact that it’s a weekend, but you can’t help the growing insecurity that begins to eat at you as you spend the rest of that Saturday alone. Were you not as attractive as you used to be? Was Kuroo getting tired of you? Why does it feel like you’re trying so hard to get his attention? Does touching you feel like just a husbandly duty for him now? Thought after crippling thought sears through you and you have to hold back the tears that threaten to spill when Kuroo returns late that night and, thinking you’re already asleep, turns on his side with his back facing towards you and instantly falls asleep.        

You muster what little resolve you have left with the last few scraps of your self-confidence for a final attempt. Raking through your mind for memories of what would hopefully bring some passion back between the two of you, you perk up as your eyes scan a black box crammed underneath the bed. Kuroo hates it when you masturbate, when you touch yourself, when you make yourself cum without him being physically present or at least on a call with you to hear all the pretty sounds you make. Surely this would be enough to finally have him fuck you senseless like he always used to. But when you purposefully time everything so that Kuroo enters your bedroom and finds you stuffed full with your favorite dildo, a wand vibrator pressed against your clit, and your back arched as broken cries fill the room, he just gives you a tired smile and sits on the edge of the bed before helping you by thrusting the dildo in and out of your gushing cunt. And it feels so good, but when you see how dull and lifeless Kuroo’s sleep deprived eyes look despite the fact that you’re laid out in an erotic display of lust, you can’t stop the sobs you let out as you climax. 

Thinking you’re just crying from the overwhelming pleasure and too tired to dig further into it, Kuroo absentmindedly tosses the toys to the side and cradles you in his arms as he falls asleep, finding comfort in your familiar scent and figure, ignorant of the way your body continues to tremble as you cry yourself to sleep. And as you try to keep your sobs and sniffles as quiet as possible, you decide to abort this mission, deeming it a complete and utter failure and you struggle to fall asleep that night as self-deprecating thoughts claw at your insides. Of course Kuroo didn’t find you sexy anymore. Your body has changed a lot since your younger days. You should be grateful that you still have a loving husband, a husband who works tirelessly to help provide for the two of you, a husband who always takes care of you, a loyal and devoted husband. And despite the longing pang for something more, something primal, for your base desires to be filled, you tentatively turn in Kuroo’s arms until you're face to face and you nuzzle into his toned chest and finally find peace in the rhythmic rise and fall of his sleeping figure. 

Life goes on normally after that. At least for Kuroo. He's too distracted and exhausted to notice the way your smiles are a little more forced, the way you're more hesitant about touching him, the way you wear more clothes to cover your body as self-consciousness plagues your mind. So it's just business as usual for him to excitedly tell you about the Japan Volleyball Association's annual summer beach party, but he blinks in confusion when you don't return his enthusiasm, mumbling a feeble excuse about not having a swimsuit for the occasion. Brows furrowed, he digs through the drawers of your wardrobe and triumphantly holds up a black bikini set you still have, waving aside your worries that it won't fit and that it won't look good on you anymore and that's how you find yourself a few weeks later, exiting Kuroo's car and walking side by side with him in said bikini, feeling like an ugly troll next to your stunning husband whose lean and toned muscles are on full display with him just sporting a red pair of swim trunks. 

But your insecurities are pushed aside as a loud "hey, hey, hey" echoes even over the sound of the waves crashing on the beach and you can't help but grin as Bokuto runs over slapping Kuroo hard enough on the back to leave a red mark before picking you up and spinning you around as he hugs you. "Alright, that's enough, stop manhandling my wife, you big dumb owl!" Kuroo pretends to grumble at the two of you, but you can tell by the amused glint in his eyes as Bokuto finally lets you go and the reassuring hand he places on your lower back as the three of you mingle with everyone else that he doesn't really mind. But as soon as you reach the thickest part of the crowd, Kuroo quickly kisses your forehead before running off to network with some players and coworkers, leaving you alone with Bokuto. 

The two of you have fun. Bokuto has always been the life of the party and you laugh the hardest you've laughed in a long time. But many drinks later and unable to keep up with his crazy stamina, you excuse yourself and find a quiet corner, drinking a glass of cold water to cool down and sober up a bit. It's been hours and you still haven't seen Kuroo since he separated from you and you're so focused scanning the venue for him that you don't notice the person drawing near you until you feel movement right next to you. Surprised you turn around and are met with a vaguely familiar face. Blond dyed hair. An ever present smirk. You don't realize how long you've been staring, trying to remember where you recognize him from, until he snorts and waves a hand in your face. "I know I'm good looking, but don't you think it's a little rude to just stare at me silently?" 

You try to stutter out an apology as you finally come back to your senses, but he laughs it off and introduces himself. Atsumu. Yes, now you recognize him. Bokuto's teammate. You've seen tons of pictures of him on Bokuto's social media accounts. He's a little rough around the edges and you can feel your face heat up as he blatantly looks you up and down, eyes lingering a bit too long on the swell of your breasts, but you can feel your confidence growing, feeling truly desired for the first time in months. What's the harm in a little flirting? 

The two of you banter back and forth and maybe it's the heat of the sun mixed with the alcohol still running through your veins, but you don't notice the way Atsumu inches closer to you until your thighs are pressed tightly against each other or the way he rests one arm behind you, slyly pressing it against your upper back. And you definitely don't notice how he suddenly swoops in to crash his lips against yours and you move to shove him away from you only to be interrupted by a flurry of motions and you stare in shock at Atsumu sprawled out on the ground and your husband furiously glaring down at him, fists clenched so hard his knuckles are turning white. 

You react just in time to lunge at Kuroo and you tightly wrap your arms around his tense figure as he takes a step towards the blonde setter, holding him still as realization finally dawns on Atsumu when he spots your matching wedding bands and he scampers off with a rushed apology. But even when he’s long gone and nowhere in sight, you still clutch your husband, not letting go until you feel his muscles relax. You let him shake you off as he turns around to tower over you and you whimper at the fire burning in his eyes, hazel eyes almost glowing as they pin you down. You’re thankful for the loud music and lively atmosphere, ensuring no one’s paying any attention to the two of you as he tightly grips your chin and forces you to maintain eye contact. 

“Someone’s been a naughty kitten. I leave you alone for a few hours and you let some other man just place their dirty paws all over you? Let them taste your pretty little mouth? If I hadn’t stopped him, would you have let him fuck your tight cunt too? Mark you up inside and out?” 

You hate the way you grow wet at his words, trembling when Kuroo notices your growing arousal and narrows his eyes in disdain. But it’s the brief flicker of hurt in his eyes that finally has you digging your hands into his waist as denial and reassurances come pouring out of your mouth. 

“Tetsurou, I had no idea he was going to kiss me. It happened so fast. I’m so sorry. Of course I would have stopped him if you hadn’t stepped in! I love you. I only want you.” 

You stare intently into his eyes, trying to portray all your love for him through your gaze and you sigh in relief when his eyes soften at your words, but your breath catches in your throat when his eyes sharpen into a familiar gleam and a dark smirk curves onto his lips. He finally releases your chin and leans down until his hair brushes against the side of your face as he purrs into your ear. 

“Prove it to me.” 

Kuroo has a reputation to uphold and, not wanting to risk anyone seeing what’s about to happen, he grabs your hand and guides you through the dancing crowd, laughing and greeting a few tipsy faces he recognizes in passing, but not once does he stop leading you towards the exit and you’re quivering in anticipation by the time the two of you reach the parking lot and he roughly shoves you into the back of his car. The door has barely closed before he pulls your bottoms down, not even bothering to fully remove them as he also hastily shoves his boxers down just enough for his cock to swing out. And you almost moan at just the sight of what you’ve been lusting for all these months, a small part of you taking pride in the fact that he’s not as unaffected as he makes himself seem behind his angry facade as you unconsciously lick your lips at the sight of his already fully hard length. 

You attempt to sit up and move towards him, desperate for a taste of the pre-cum leaking out of his tip, but you yelp when you’re shoved back down by a hand on your chest and you whine, only for that to quickly turn into a wail as Kuroo slams two of his fingers inside of your throbbing cunt. He growls as he rapidly pistons his digits in and out of you and you should be embarrassed by the way your cries of ecstasy and the sound of your squelching wet pussy fill the car, but you can’t bring yourself to feel any shame as you lose yourself to the delirious pleasure of your husband’s long fingers filling you, stretching you, always sure to rub against that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. But when your hand instinctively reaches down to rub your clit, you’re startled back to reality when it’s slapped away and his fingers are yanked out of you. 

He sneers down at you, a wicked smile twisting his face as he shoves his drenched fingers into your mouth and you obediently suck, making sure to clean every remaining drop of yourself that coats his skin. Satisfied, he finally removes his hand from your mouth and he quirks an eyebrow in amusement as you beg and plead for him to fuck you.

“Tetsurou, please. I need your cock inside of me. Please, I want it so badly. Please fuck me. Please please please. I miss it so much.” 

He mockingly coos down at you as desperate tears well in the corner of your eyes. “Aww is my little kitten crying for my cock? You’re such a fucking whore. You want my big fat cock inside of you so badly that you’d cry and beg for it like a desperate slut? You sure it’s my cock that you miss? I think you’d be happy with any cock fucking you. You’d let anyone stuff you full and moan like a whore, wouldn’t you?” 

And the tears finally fall as you sob and shake your head rapidly. “Only you, Tetsurou. Always only you. Please please please.” You’re still crying and incoherently babbling as he slams his entire shaft inside of you in one swift motion and Kuroo darkly smiles at the way your crying instantly turns to wanton moans at the sudden intrusion. But it’s been far too long since either of you have done this and both of you are so worked up that he knows he doesn’t have much time before you both reach your ends. And sure enough after just a few strokes he can feel your body begin to tighten and he grits his teeth at the sight of your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your head shaking back and forth, and your mouth wide open. But even as dazed as you are, when you feel the way your husband’s thrusts become uneven, you try to voice as much reason as you possibly can, fully aware of your husband’s tendency to paint your body with his fluids. 

“Tetsu-Tetsurou AH- Feels so good. Hngh D-don’t cum on me. Don’t have anything to- AHHH clean it up with and- OH we need to go back to the party.”

Kuroo grunts in displeasure at your words, but he knows you’re right and as much as he loves to see you covered in thick spurts of white, the thought of anyone else seeing that incites rage in him. You get ready for him to pull out and cum down your throat like you always do when you mess around in similarly inconvenient places, ready to swallow down any evidence of your sinful deeds, but you scream when his thrusts get even harder and faster. 

"Guess I'll just have to cum inside you."

And those words are the final shove you need to fall over the peak and Kuroo follows shortly after you as your pussy walls clench and milk his cock. He stays buried inside of you for a few more moments, wanting your tight walls to soak up as much of him as possible, but when he slides out of you, he quickly pulls your bottoms up, not letting a single drop escape, and you whimper as he purposefully tugs them up just a tad too tightly, teasingly wedging the fabric between your folds before finally having some mercy and letting you rearrange them. He opens the car door and steps out first, offering a hand down towards you and you grab it, gingerly standing up only to be pulled swiftly towards him and you stumble into his chest. But before you can fully find your balance, a large hand tugs your hair until you’re forced to stare up into cat-like eyes. 

“I want you to keep my cum inside of you for the rest of the party. I’m not anywhere near done with your punishment. I’ll be checking at home tonight to see if your pretty little pussy is still painted white.”       

The rest of the party is torturous. Kuroo doesn't let you step even a foot away from him as he continues mingling with the crowd and in any other scenario you'd love the attention he showers you with as he affectionately introduces you to countless faces, but not today. Not with your pussy desperately clenching in order not to spill a single drop of the white liquid coating your insides. Not with your touch starved body only yearning for more after getting a taste of what you've wanted all these months. And Kuroo only makes things worse with his subtle teasing. 

You know better than to think any of his touches are accidental or innocent and your body is so in tune with his that it reacts to every single bit of contact he dishes out. His arm grazes over your nipples as he reaches over to grab a drink. He leads you with a hand that just happens to slip from your lower back and land squarely on your ass. He wipes your mouth for you, claiming you have a piece of food on the corner of your mouth, but that doesn't really explain why his fingers briefly slip past your lips. But all hell breaks loose when he reapplies your sunscreen for you and his hands blatantly slip under your bikini set, teasingly close to where you want him most, but always just missing your clit and nipples and when he reaches your neck, a moan escapes you at the feeling of his hand subtly wrapping and tightening around your throat. 

"Tetsurou, stop teasing me! Can we go home? Please take me home. I need you inside of me again. I want you to ruin me." 

Kuroo's the one who's turned you into a needy slutty mess, but it's his turn to feel flushed at the sight of you lewdly begging him to do whatever he wants to you in broad daylight, in front of hundreds of people and finally losing his self-control, he brusquely grabs your hand and once again the two of you are leaving, but this time for good. The car ride is silent, the atmosphere thick and tense between the two of you as you clench your thighs together and Kuroo tries to ignore the growing bulge in his shorts. It's silent as both of you enter your apartment and Kuroo seats himself on your couch. But you break once you close and lock the front door and Kuroo impassively stares at you as you drop to your knees in front of him and beg him to fuck you again. You know you're barely making any sense, fueled only by your cock hungry thoughts, but you pause when Kuroo raises a hand to silence you. 

"Let's see if you were able to follow the one rule I gave you today, kitten." 

Eagerly you nod your head and you raise yourself on your knees, spreading your thighs apart before pulling your bikini bottom to the side and you think you could cum right there and then just from the way Kuroo unabashedly stares at the white trail dripping down your inner thigh as he pushes down his shorts enough to languidly stroke his cock. 

"Good girl. Did you like being my little cum bucket today? Did you like being filled by me? Bet if it were possible, you'd always want your little cunny to be drenched in my cum, right? Come sit on master's lap." 

Kuroo chuckles at the way you clumsily stumble in your haste to reach him as you blather affirmation after affirmation in response to his questions and he lowers his head to affectionately kiss you, lightly nipping your lower lip before he pulls back. He moves one hand to his cock to angle it as his other hand grabs your waist and urges you to move, but you hardly need any encouragement and you both groan as you sink down on his length until you're completely bottomed out and sitting in his lap once again. Immediately you try to bounce, but you whine when strong hands hold you still and you can feel tears of frustration forming as you pout at your husband's smirk. But any annoyance is forgotten when his hands fondle and pinch your nipples through the fabric of your top. 

"Look at you. I've barely done anything and you're already so worked up. Stop moving! Just sit there and take what I give you." You yelp when he roughly pinches your nipples and you cease your attempts to ride him, but you can't help the way your hips roll and grind as he continues. 

"Your nipples are already so hard, kitten. Look how obvious they are even beneath your swimsuit. Were they like this all day? Is that why Atsumu couldn't take his eyes off you? You think every player there saw how slutty your nipples are? Realized what a horny desperate whore you are? I bet they all wanted to get a taste." 

You wail when Kuroo shoves the fabric aside and latches a mouth onto one of your sensitive nubs, while experly flicking and rolling the other between his fingers. He alternates between the two sides and your frazzled mind can barely keep up with his actions as he switches up the motions of his fingers and mouth. He pulls off briefly and sharply tugs at your nipples. "Think you can cum just from your nipples?" You try to deny it, pleading for him to at least rub your clit, but your protests are ignored and you gasp when he dives back down and harshly sucks at one of your puffy nubs. Kuroo knows your body even better than you do and he continues to stimulate your nipples even when you topple over into an orgasm that takes you by surprise and you tightly clench around his cock as your back arches and only when you weakly paw at him to stop does he release your nipple with a lewd pop. 

You playfully smack him when he teases you about what a slut you must be to be able to get off from just your nipples and you hide your face in his neck as he shamelessly thinks out loud about all the nipple clamps, suctions, and vibrators he can use on you to train you even more. But you raise your head in alarm when you feel yourself being repositioned, Kuroo's erect cock still inside of you as he lays you on your back and hovers over you. 

"Tetsurou, st-stop NGH TOO SOON!"

"What did you say, kitten? Sorry, it's hard to understand you when you're moaning like a whore. Weren't you begging for this all day? Shouldn't you be thanking me?"

Kuroo thrusts sharply into you with every word and you can't think of anything other than how well he fills you, how perfectly he fits inside the cunt he's molded and shaped for himself after years of using it, how amazing the drag of his cock against your insides is. You babble thank you, thank you, thank you mindlessly over and over again, incapable of doing anything else as your breasts bounce and your body writhes underneath him. And when his hips finally stutter and he furiously rubs your clit as he adds to the mess inside of you, you break apart once again, your mind going blank as you feel the warmth of his cum sloshing inside of you.

But exhaustion slams into you as you come down from your climax, exhaustion from your third orgasm, exhaustion from being teased all day and all the barriers you’d put up finally come crashing down and Kuroo stares in horror as you sob, nothing like the pleasure filled sobs he usually wrings out of you. No, these are heartbreaking anguished cries for help and he immediately answers the call by tightly clutching you to his chest, your lower bodies still connected as he murmurs words of praise and love into your ear. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart? I love you. You know that, right? I love you more than anything or anyone else in this entire world. I’m so lucky to be your husband. You’re so good to me, so loving, so supportive, so loyal, so beautiful.” 

The last word catches your attention and with a sniffle you hesitantly remove your head from his torso and look at him through watery lashes. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” 

Kuroo flounders for a second, disbelief choking the words in his throat, unable to understand how you could think otherwise. But when he sees the insecurity and doubt flooding your eyes he gently cradles your face in his calloused hands. 

“Of course I do. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, inside and out.” 

Your heart flutters at the sincerity you see in his eyes and that’s all it takes for you to break down in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tuck your head under his chin, and he silently listens as you reveal all the internal suffering you’d put yourself through over the past months as you let your anxiety and worry mix with your doubts and insecurities, letting them fester and ferment into a self-destructive time bomb. A slow-moving process he’d been too daft to notice, that you’d been too scared to talk to him about for his sake, not wanting to be a bother or another item he needed to check off his to-do list. And while you continue shyly speaking, tears stream down Kuroo’s face and his heart clenches at the thought of how long you’d quietly suffered, putting on a happy facade for him, taking care of his every want and need during the few hours of the week he was home and awake. 

Surprised to feel liquid drops plop down on your face, you quirk your head upwards and panic when you see your husband’s teary eyes and the two of you become a blubbering mess as you both try to wipe each other’s tears and soothe each other. It’s so silly to see two adults trying to out comfort each other that you accidentally snort at the strange image the two of you must make and there’s a slight pause, but then your laughter is joined by Kuroo’s trademark cackle and before you know it, the two of you are wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling the rumble of each other’s laughter through your connected bodies. 

Yes, there’ll be serious conversations later about being more open and transparent with each other when something’s troubling either one of you and discussions on how you can both work on your communication. You’ll jokingly complain that Kuroo is hovering over you too much for weeks after this breakdown as he practically scrutinizes you with those perceptive eyes of his, always making sure you’re really fine. And he’ll never give you any more opportunities to doubt how much he loves every part of you when you’re screaming his name on every surface of your home. But for now, feeling infinitely lighter with all your burdens finally shoved off your shoulders with the help of your husband, you’re content to close your eyes and relish in the warmth of the lean body pressed against you.     

[yslkook]

TiO (8)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook is a man of mystery and you take him on a date.

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, a shitty relationship, unprotected sex (pls use protection, these two are being foolish) , some choking, grinding, making out, oral

word count: ~6.3k

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts. a big thank you to @cutechim for creating the texts for me lmao<33

***

Jungkook remains tight-lipped about what it was he had done over the weekend, when he had gone with Jin and Mina to a tattoo convention a few hours away. They had ended up staying the night there, and while Jungkook wanted to ask you to come with him, he wondered if it was too soon to ask. After all, you were both still enjoying each other’s company at your own sweet pace.

Eventually his little secret gets put on the back burner for the rest of the week. You were supposed to get bubble tea with him on Tuesday, but unfortunately a last minute work issue with your client and your application came up. You’d ended up working late, your eyes screaming in fatigue and went straight to bed that evening. He had understood, of course he did.

On Thursday, he was supposed to grab lunch with you at a cafe that he thought you might like, but this time it was him who had a conflict. His older sister had showed up to the tattoo parlor without any prior notice. She does this every so often, when things aren’t going well with her on again, off again shitty “boyfriend”.

Jungkook had sighed, cancelling on lunch with you to spend time with Jooyeon and comfort her with fried chicken and ice cream. You had sent an understanding thumbs up and a promise to call him later and end up having lunch with your work wife, Kira instead.

Kira who doesn’t fail to point out the glow in your cheeks and your general aura, even though it’s been nearly a week and a half since you saw Jungkook last. You roll your eyes and ignore the flames in your cheeks (and her laughter), and change the subject to your work projects. She tells you about some of the coding issues and compliance issues she’s been having with her software, and you tell her about the hours you’ve been pouring into your application for your client.

It doesn’t bother you that Jungkook hadn’t asked if you wanted to meet his sister. After all, he’d told you bits and pieces about her and her relationship. And in the last few weeks, your relationship has blossomed so beautifully. There was no reason to rush, you think. You’ll meet her hopefully under better circumstances for her.

Jungkook spends most of the evening with Jooyeon, letting her cry herself to sleep in his bed. His sister hardly ever cries like this, with sobs full of pain and hurt because of another man. But it’s been happening too much lately, too many fights and too much of Joo losing herself. It makes Jungkook see red more often than not. He knows what you’d say- that she needs him more than anything else and to not be so impulsive.

He makes sure Joo eats a warm meal before she falls asleep and he shoots you a text:

Jungkook: baby

You: hi

You: everything ok?

Jungkook: no, joo’s bf is a fkin asshole

Jungkook: she’s sleeping

Jungkook: miss u

You: im sorry baby :( can i call you?

He jumps at the chance, the sound of your voice and sight of your pretty face on video call instantly calming him. Jungkook is sure to wear a beanie to hide his surprise for you (but you don’t question it. After all, you’ve seen him in beanies plenty of times before and it’s dim in the apartment.) He moves to the couch, asking softly for you to tell him about your day. You recount every single detail from memory, shifting under your covers to tell him about how you had nearly stumbled down the stairs in front of your manager’s manager because you had missed a step.

It pulls a soft laugh from him.

“Jungkook,” You say quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Jungkook sighs, “She’s just… Byung-woo and her have had this on and off thing for years now. He won’t commit to her and she just refuses to see him for what he is. Like, when it’s good, it’s really good. But when it’s bad, it’s awful. I wish she’d fucking see it for herself. I don’t know what to do anymore, baby.”

“Oh, baby,” You murmur, wishing you could hug him, “All you can do is be there for her but be honest with her. She’ll come around soon, hopefully. It’s hard to see past a shitty person sometimes, when all you want is for them to love you.”

“I hope so, too,” Jungkook says, “She’d love you, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Don’t get a big head,” Jungkook chuckles, “Maybe you can meet her someday. Under better circumstances, I mean.”

“Really? You want me to meet your older sister?” You ask softly, feeling a little flustered, “That’s serious.”

“I told you, baby,” Jungkook soothes, “I’m serious about you.”

“Yeah. Seriously crazy about me,” You giggle to yourself. You know if Jungkook was with you, he’d flick your forehead.

“It’s true,” He murmurs, “Maybe I can see you this weekend?”

“Yeah, you still have to show me what you did over the weekend! Take care of Jooyeon first,” You reply, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll drop stuff off, just tell me.”

“I will,” Jungkook promises, “Sleep well, I miss you.”

“Sleep well. I miss you.”

***

Jooyeon ends up leaving on Saturday morning after a lecture from Jungkook and with determined resolve in her eyes. You jump at the chance to take him out tonight, knowing how stressed he’s been the last few days.

You: be ready at 6:30 tn, im taking u out. and dress slutty

Jungkook doesn’t know how to interpret your text when he reads it. He considers asking Mina and Mei what this means, but ultimately leaves it alone. Replying to your message with a quick thumbs up, he busies himself with getting ready to see you (and surprising you, finally after a full week of wanting to show you what he had done.)

Once you parallel park your car (which takes far too long than you’d like to admit), you grab the small bouquet of purple roses that you had gotten for Jungkook and text him saying that you’ll be up in a few minutes.

Taehyung had caught you struggling to parallel park, and had told Jungkook with a snicker. Which earned him a punch to the arm.

There wasn’t a particular reason that you had chosen to get purple roses for him, other than the fact that they reminded you of him. You hope he likes them.

Jungkook hears a soft knock at the door, and can already envision you behind it. He hopes you like his surprise, the one he’s been teasing you for a week about. You had given no hints of what you would be wearing- you had only sent him one selfie that didn’t give much of a hint into your outfit. He has no doubt that you’ll look gorgeous, but still.

Maybe Jungkook’s nerves shouldn’t be this intense, but he can’t help it. He swings the front door open, only to be greeted by you swaying on your feet with your hands held behind your back. His heart throbs when you pull your hands apart and present him with a beautiful bouquet of purple roses.

How ironic.

“Hello,” You say with a small smile, suddenly feeling a little shy and gasping when your eyes land on his hair, “Wow. You weren’t kidding…”

His hair is tied back into a ponytail, but it’s unmistakably elegant and so violet. Two neat pieces of his newly dyed hair fall into his face effortlessly, but then your gaze reaches the piercing on his left eyebrow. Your lips remain parted in surprise and without thinking, you reach up to touch his hair. It’s still soft, as it always is.

“Come in, baby,” Jungkook says, taking the roses from you, “You must really like me, huh? Got me flowers and everything?”

“Shut up,” You mutter, cheeks heating up, “Don’t get a big head.”

Jungkook only grins wolfishly at you and winks at you, eyes unashamedly glued to your ass. You roll your eyes, and swat his shoulder as you watch him put the rose in a vase and place it in the center of the dining table.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been in his shared apartment (that he lives with Taehyung and Jimin in) but you somehow feel shy in his presence again, as if it was the first time. The first time you had been here with him had been the first time you had spent the night at his apartment several weeks ago, after a night out with your friends.

You let your gaze wander, curious eyes settling on the subtle matching of the furniture and the cleanliness of the apartment. There’s not a stray speck of dust in sight, but maybe you’re distracting yourself from addressing the pretty purple of his hair. Your mouth is dry, and you’re probably drooling a little. You wonder if Jungkook prepared for this, the same way you did (in that you had washed your car, cleaned every inch of it and gotten a new car freshener).

A faint scent of fresh laundry and lavender sits in the spaces of his home. It calms you and gives you the boost to turn your eyes to him.

“Thanks for the roses, baby,” Jungkook says, giving you a smile and starry eyes. He pulls you into his arms, your back against the counter. “Surprise. Do you like it?”

“Uh,” You mumble, brain deciding to short-circuit with the way he looks at you. His smile turns into a smirk, deciding to further render you speechless by pressing himself closer to you and cradling your neck. He’s careful not to touch your face. He doesn’t want to mess your makeup up terribly, at least not yet.

“I know you like my hair. Your face says it all, baby,” Jungkook continues and ducks his head for a quick kiss, “You’re pretty.” He does quite like this dress, light blue and dotted in small flowers with thin straps. His eyes are instantly drawn to the drawstring at the center of your chest and he quells the urge to pull at it.

Jungkook’s mouth waters when he sees the side split of the dress but you want more from him immediately, but he pulls away to your chagrin. Even with the simple kiss, the burgundy color of your lipstick stains his plump bottom lip.

You shiver. It appears that he tried to take your words via text to heart- to dress slutty. He’s wearing a loose animal print button up, with the top three buttons undone. It gives you a delectable view of his pecs, his collarbones and a hint of the tattoo on his right side. As if you weren’t already weak in the knees for him as it was, he wears a black coat and tight, leather pants.

Jungkook pulls it off, like he pulls everything off and the purple hair blends seamlessly with his look. Tonight, he’d opted for two silver hoops in each ear and a thin silver necklace to match.

Your knees are weak, they’ve been weak since you had seen him in this offensive outfit and his hair, his new piercing that was clearly an attack on your entire existence.

The purple hair. The piercing. He’ll be the death of you tonight, you know it. Your legs are wobbly, panties already probably a little wet just from seeing him and from a few of his kisses. But you can’t help it. Without thinking, you press your lips to his, drawing your tongue into his mouth eagerly. You are so hungry, so eager to devour him and drink up anything that he offers you. Jungkook tugs you closer to him lightly by your waist but-

“Seriously? Right in front of my dinner?” Comes an amused voice from behind Jungkook and you nearly screech at the familiar sound of Jimin’s voice.

“I- I didn’t-You-” You stammer, feeling your face heat up to a degree that it’s definitely never heated up to before. You hide behind Jungkook to fix your surely wrecked lipstick. You’re certain his own lips are probably comically smudged with your lipstick as well. “Sorry Jimin, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know, we’ll leave-”

Jungkook only rolls his eyes at Jimin’s wide smirk and knowing eyes. He hears you scolding Jungkook for not telling him that anyone was home, to which he promptly responds “well, you didn’t ask!”

Despite the very natural and easy flow of conversation between you and Jungkook in your car, you still feel overheated and jumpy, your fingers incessantly tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not Jungkook, it’s you and your own nerves. It’s not the first time you’ve gone out to dinner with him and it’s certainly not the first time you’ve had him in your car. If Jungkook notices, he says nothing.

“Where are we going, baby?” Jungkook asks, looking at you. You don’t meet his eyes, choosing instead to focus on the road despite being at a red light.

“Umm, that place you mentioned the other day. The one we talked about trying together,” You say softly. Jungkook can only wonder why you’re a little quiet, but he thinks he knows. You slip into your head so easily and he doesn’t mind gently tugging you out of your thought cloud and into reality with him.

“Can you help me park,” You mumble sheepishly, “I get nervous parking in such tight spaces.”

“Yeah, pull over here before it’s impossible to,” Jungkook murmurs. You nod and do so, hopping out of the driver’s seat to switch places with him. But before you can get in the passenger’s seat, Jungkook grips your wrist loosely. You look at him curiously, with wide eyes and he drops a kiss to your lips, swallowing your surprise.

“You’re so pretty,” Jungkook murmurs, “So fucking pretty, baby. I love this dress on you.” You preen at his praise, leaning forward for another kiss with a shy smile. He subtly squeezes your left tit before letting his hand travel downward.

“You look really good, Jungkook,” You murmur before he kisses you, “I-I really, really like it. A lot.”

He gently caresses your thigh from under your dress, the heat of his hand shooting straight up your core. Jungkook slips his tongue into your mouth quickly, coaxing your endearing nervousness away. As if you both aren’t pulled over to the side of the street where cars are passing you by (and surely wondering why you both were making out like this in public).

“Are we gonna be those people who have a roadside quickie,” You laugh, gently pushing his shoulder when you pull away.

“Roadside quickie? Get your mind out of the gutter,” Jungkook says but his lips twist into a wicked smirk, “But hey, if you wanna give me road head, I’m not going to complain about it-”

“Ha, you would be so lucky,” You scoff, feeling your nerves beginning to ease out of you, “C’mon, our reservation is soon. And then we can talk about road head.”

Dinner goes perfectly and after a glass of wine you feel those inexplicable nerves wash away. What did you have to be nervous for anyway? It was Jungkook- Jungkook who you’ve known for years. Your friend before any of this. He asks you about work, how your application is going-

“Your client sounds pretty demanding,” Jungkook muses, “You keeping up with it okay?”

“Yeah, but I’m not even an application engineer so I’m just learning as I go. My true roots are data and data science but I get to see all of it. Which is cool. But also time consuming, like the other evening, I had to read up on the compliance regulations. But my favorite thing is creating modeling and programs for this app, it’s really cool because it’s healthcare specific. So I’m learning about that sector as well, it’s mostly python but we’ve been doing testing with different healthcare providers in the area and they’re all responding really well to it-” You’re rambling, you know it, but your passion for your career knows no bounds and Jungkook makes no move to stop you. He only smiles at you, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching, gesturing for you to continue.

It’s funny. Not even a few months ago, you would have cut yourself off from your own rambling. In an attempt to convince yourself that the other person didn’t need to hear about it. Maybe that was Sora’s subconscious influence on you. Today, you don’t think twice about it, glowing and shimmering under the dim, blue lights of the restaurant as you tell Jungkook more about your job.

He makes your heart race and he’s sitting right in front of you. Your chin is in your hands as you listen to the pretty words slipping out of his lips. He’s so dreamy, and you struggle to not let your gaze stray from his eyes and linger on his exposed tattoos and chest. You don’t even know where to look, deciding to settle on the way his newly purple locks fall to his forehead just perfectly.

“What do you wanna eat for dessert?” You murmur, looking at the menu and cautiously allowing your foot to brush against his.

In hindsight, you should’ve seen it coming-

“You,” Jungkook says easily, as if he’s talking about the weather.

“Corny,” You roll your eyes, but nudge his foot again. You end up deciding on sharing a slice of decadent, chocolate mousse cake. Which Jungkook ends up finishing off when you satisfy your sweet tooth after a few big bites.

He leans over without a second thought, thumbing away stray cream from the corner of your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick the tip of his thumb and he looks at you with wide eyes before grinning roguishly.

“Wanna get outta here, baby?”

“Should I take you home, Jungkook?” You ask, finding the courage somewhere in the remnants of the glass of wine currently evaporating from your system to take his hand in your lap once you’re both settled in your car.

“Do you want to take me home?” Jungkook asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“I have some wine I think you’d like at my place. I just got it,” You say a little breathlessly, “And I have to inspect something, I might need your help.” Jungkook laughs, a little derisively and you pout.

“You don’t have to bribe me with wine, baby. You know I would’ve been down regardless,” Jungkook says, squeezing your hand, “What do you need to inspect? Do you have a leak or something?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a leak alright,” You say under your breath, thinking about the growing wetness in your panties, “My man just showed up here with purple hair and an eyebrow piercing, looking like a damn model after one whole week. I have to inspect him.”

“Oh, is that so? In that case, I would love to be your lab rat. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen the inside of your bedroom before-”

“Who said you’d get that far?”

“I already did, baby. Did you forget?” Jungkook’s smirk widens, eyes sparkling with mischief. He gently cups your face, thumb on your chin and hovers just over your lips. You think he’s about to kiss you, so you close your eyes in anticipation of his lips on yours.

But it never comes. Instead, his breath fans over your cheeks and he lets out a low laugh. “I sure didn’t forget, and I know you didn’t either.”

You roll your eyes and swat his hand away, ignoring (but letting out a smile) when he chuckles. You decide to hold his hand for as much of the drive back home you can.

Jungkook’s hands are on your hips even as you’re fumbling with the keys to your front door. He’s a distraction, his warm heat plastered against your back and the simple act of opening your damn door feels like too much of a chore. When Jungkook’s lips glaze over the back of your neck, his fingers roaming your waist, it’s difficult for you to focus.

So Jungkook scoffs and turns the key for you. “Can’t open the door, baby?” Jungkook taunts and you level him with a glare.

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself in front of my door!”

“You like it,” Jungkook says, shutting the door behind him and hugging you as you try to walk away from him to wash up. You escape his grip with a giggle and lock yourself in your bathroom, while Jungkook waits with a disgruntled pout.

When you come out, you head into the kitchen to pour out two glasses of wine and bring some snacks out. You’re not particularly hungry, though you wouldn’t mind eating and you’re sure Jungkook wouldn’t mind either.

Your train of thought is of course interrupted by the man himself and he wraps his arms around you from behind, pushing you into the counter. One might say that Jungkook is being clingy, but you know this is how he shows his affections. Through physical touch more than anything else. And you quite like it, you like the reassurance of his body close to yours. It’s what you’ve always wanted and never known that you needed.

“Missed you,” He breathes into your hair. Even if he’s been with you for the last few hours… You understand him. It feels like you’re both making up for lost time. For time that you could’ve spent together, rather than apart.

“Me too,” You murmur, “Can you take this to the couch, honey? I’ll bring the glasses and the wine.”

Jungkook hums and kisses your temple, squeezing your ass before heeding your soft demand. You sit next to him, thighs touching, and pour out a glass for both of you to enjoy. You lean against his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his bicep and turn the television on. But neither of you are really paying attention.

“Hey,” Jungkook murmurs, “I had a good time tonight, baby.”

“Don’t I know it,” You say smugly, “It’s not everyday a pretty girl takes you out for din-” He cuts your words off by pulling you into his lap, somehow not spilling even a single drop of wine in the movement. You would’ve killed him if even a hint of a wine stain appeared on your velvet couch.

You press your hand into his shoulder, the hint of his tattoo and the glint of his piercing catching your eye. You swirl your glass of wine with your other hand. “What a precarious position to be in,” You say dryly, even grinding your hips into his playfully. He gives you a look, and stills your movements with one hand on your waist. Jungkook sets his glass on the coffee table behind you and cradles your neck, pulling you down for a sharp kiss. It’s almost desperate and needy, nothing like his kisses from before.

You slip your tongue into his honeyed mouth, tasting seeds of his desperation with your tongue. But then, you remember your wine glass and pull away from his lips with a lewd smack to reach behind you and place it on the coffee table as well.

“So pretty,” Jungkook moans, pushing the straps of your dress to the side and dotting your shoulders in wine-stained kisses, “Pretty girl, my pretty baby-”

You tilt his cheek towards you for a kiss, whining into his mouth at his praise. It shoots down your spine in a delicious hum and his hands roaming the expanse of your back makes you feel warm and powerful.

The way your hips move in time with his, the way you fit into the crevices of his thighs and his chest- he just wants to give you everything. He wants to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Jungkook will give you everything, if you let him.

“And what about you?” You rasp with swollen lips and wild eyes when you finally pull away. You press your fingers into the exposed, inky part of his chest, where his shirt is unbuttoned for your eyes. “You look so fucking good all the time, but-but I told you to dress slutty and you did this for me, huh? You did this for me, bunny?”

Jungkook’s cock jumps in his tight pants and his throat goes dry. Your eyes are devious, filled with mischief and sin and he gives himself to you fully and wholly.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods eagerly, “Yeah, I wanted to look nice for you, baby.”

“A-and your hair,” You mumble, feeling a little lovesick, “I love it, I love it, I love it-I just wanna- wanna make you feel good. Can I do that, bunny? Make you feel good?”

Jungkook nods with wide, doe eyes, wondering how the tables were turned so quickly.

“Take me to my bedroom,” You demand softly. The glasses of wine and snacks on the tray are left forgotten as Jungkook easily scoops you up in his arms. Even with your lips soft and slow against his neck, he somehow makes it to your bed.

It’s definitely not the first time you’ve had Jungkook in your bed (or that you’ve been in his bed). It’s not the first time you’ve peeled his shirt off meticulously and licked your way down his chest, to unbutton his tight pants. It’s not the first time he’s seen you on your knees on your bed (to alleviate the strain on your knees if you were on the floor).

By now, the shock of your impatience has worn off. Jungkook frequently reminds you to slow down, that you both have nowhere to be except with each other.

It looks like his pants are glued to his legs, and while you can appreciate the visual, you want to appreciate the real thing. You groan in frustration and Jungkook does the work for you, pushing the offending fabric away and breathing a sigh of relief. You crawl closer to him, nails featherlight against his taut thighs.

He’s golden, his body taut and spilling with swirls of color in the divots of his muscles. Your mouth waters.

But Jungkook moves your hands away when you start inching closer, wanting to palm his cock. He joins you on the bed, pushing your back to the bed and hiking the skirt of your dress up to your hips. His hands are tight and warm and welcome on your hips, a flare of desire shooting down your spine and straight to your pussy. You buck your hips up towards him with a pout but he only squeezes.

“What did I tell you,” Jungkook murmurs, swatting your thigh lightly.

“You’ll have to remind me,” You breathe.

“Told you to slow down, baby,” Jungkook says, letting his fingers trail up your thighs and slip under your panties. His hand is warm in contrast to the rings on his fingers. They do little to cool your skin, though. “Impatient girl.”

“You say that like a bad thing-”

“And you talk so fucking much,” Jungkook drawls, hovering over you and dropping his weight on top of you, nudging your cheek to kiss you. You reach upwards to thread your hands through his hair but he’s quick, so much quicker than you. Jungkook pins your wrists with just one hand, and the mere action, the mere display of strength has you sighing and your pussy fluttering.

“Lift your hips,” Jungkook says thickly, and you do so immediately. It’s easy for him to pull your black lace panties off to the side. But before he does so he gives you a small smile of approval, knowing that you wore them specifically for him to see.

“I really do love this dress, baby,” He says, “Makes your tits and your ass look amazing.”

“Take it off, then. And see the goods up close,” You say, wiggling against his grip.

“I will,” Jungkook says lazily, “Don’t you worry your pretty head about it.” Without a single warning, he lifts you up easily into his lap. Your bare pussy brushes against his bare cock deliciously, your hips moving of their own accord. He stills you again, and carefully unzips your dress and pulls it off of you. His fingers on you are soft but firm, leaving your head spinning and hazy.

You haven’t even had his cock yet, and you’re about ready to combust. Jungkook pushes you on the bed, your tits bouncing with the force of your back hitting the mattress and hovers over you. You pull at his hair a little impatiently and he groans, the sound reverberating across the walls only to ring in your head. You want to hear it again, and again and again.

“Jungkook,” You whine, “Please, bunny, do something. Look at me, look at my pussy, come clean me up-”

“So needy,” Jungkook murmurs and ignores you in favor of kissing your tits, rubbing your nipples with his fingers, “‘M needy for you too, baby.”

“You’re so hard, so big,” You babble, “Please, want your cock, baby.”

Impatient. Jungkook kisses your chest, your belly, your hips and makes you cum on his tongue twice (while you tear up and cry a little bit, gripping his purple locks fiercely and holding onto his shoulder) before letting you stroke his cock. You’re about to push him on his back to blow him with determined eyes, but he stops you.

It appears he’s impatient too, and he wants to see you cream his cock before cumming all over your tits (which has become his favorite place to).

“Jungkook,” You breathe sharply, “There, baby, right there-” You cut yourself off with a groan, stilling your hips and pushing his face into your chest. Jungkook’s groans are muffled against your tits, but you feel the wetness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue over your nipples.

“Shit,” You mumble, “Feels so good-”

“So pretty, baby,” Jungkook coos, pulling away from your tits to look up at you with lust in his eyes, “I’m yours, all yours-”

You groan, bouncing on his cock even harder as a flare of possessiveness flashes across your belly. “Move back,” You say softly, “Lay down. I’m gonna ride you so good, baby.”

Jungkook barely has a chance to catch his breath before your nails are on his chest, trying to hold yourself steady as you push yourself down onto his cock, pulling a deep moan of your name from his lips. His hands are tight on your hips, watching with wide eyes- he doesn’t know where to look, what to do.

He squeezes when one of your hands drifts over his and rests on top of his hand.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Jungkook mumbles, “Whatever you want baby, I’m yours-”

“You talk so much,” You say hoarsely, with a wicked smile, “It’s cute.” Your free hand floats upward, resting loosely at the base of his neck. His chain is cold against his heated skin but all he can focus on is the glide of your hand over his neck.

His cock twitches inside you and your smile widens. “Is this okay?” You whisper, “This okay, bunny?”

“Harder,” Jungkook groans, “Fuck, harder, baby.”

“Like this?” You ask innocently, closing your hand around the sensitive spots of his neck. His pretty eyes flutter as he nods, a quiet moan slipping out into the air.

“You’re pretty like this,” You say softly, “Shit, you’re pretty like this…”

He lets out a choked laugh at that. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his hastily. Jungkook thrusts upward, hips meeting your ass but your hand doesn’t leave his neck. Not just yet. You breathe into his mouth, allowing him to swallow your soft whimpers.

You wet your lips with a loud smack and cradle his cheek gently. Jungkook is mesmerized by the heat in your eyes, smoldering and burning through his skin. You let your fingers glide over your clit, gathering wetness and before Jungkook can ask what you're doing-

“Open,” You mumble hoarsely, “Open, bunny.”

Pushing a finger past his chapped lips, you gasp at the sight of him below you with your fingers in his mouth.

You could cum just from watching him. His tongue swirls over your finger before sucking lightly with a pretty flush covering his cheeks. Your eyes widen, another gasp brushing over his cheeks.

“Fuck,” You mumble dreamily, “You’re so good, bunny.”

Your body is burning, jaw slack and the feeling of Jungkook’s bare cock inside of you almost too much to handle. It was wildly irresponsible- he wasn’t wearing a condom and you weren’t on birth control, and it was a conversation for later. But you can’t think, not when it feels this good, not when you’ve had a taste of his cock in this way. Besides, he always pulls out just in time. But still, you both should know better.

“Oh, Jungkook,” You whine, “‘m close, I’m so fucking close, make me cum, bunny-”

“Baby,” Jungkook rasps, “My pretty baby looks so good on my cock like this. My smart, kind, b-beautiful girl, my angel-”

Tears prick your eyes- it’s easy for you to become overwhelmed like this. You tug your hands away and thread your fingers through his, dipping your head for a kiss.

“You like that, angel? You like being mine?” Jungkook murmurs, slowing your hips so he can take over. But he knows you’re close.

“Only yours,” You mumble. Jungkook pulls you into his chest swiftly and flips you so that you’re on your back. He places your legs over his shoulders and brackets your head with his forearms, his necklace just above your nose and his hair tickling your face. But you're mesmerized by the determination and adoration in his eyes.

“Jungkook,” You murmur brokenly, “O-oh, y-yeah, baby, there, mmmf-” You squeeze his biceps with a gasp, watching his face closely. Pushing his hair behind his ears, you cradle his cheek and pull him down for a sweet, long kiss.

His fingers dance across your thighs and rub your clit in slow circles and murmuring soft words of praise in your ear. You’re vaguely aware that your body erupts in a tidal wave of flames, warming you from inside out. You don’t hear anything except for your cries of his name, you don’t see anything but him through your blurry eyes.

“Baby,” Jungkook says through clenched teeth, “O-open your mouth, baby. Fuck, baby, this pussy- I’m gonna cum, baby, fuck-”

You open your mouth with hooded eyes and your tongue lolling out and Jungkook pulls out of you abruptly with a series of curses. He’s not fast enough to get all of his cum in your mouth, some of it landing on your cheek. You swallow his cum with a dopey smile and open your arms for him to bury his face in your tits.

“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook says breathlessly, rolling off of you and pulling you into his side, “This pussy’s gonna be the death of me. Where’d you learn to ride dick like that, huh?”

“I’ll never tell,” You mumble, “Gimme a kiss.”

And so he does, tasting himself on your lips. He kisses you nice and slow, just how you both like after a night like this. Eventually he cleans you up and you do the same for him.

Under the covers with only the shared warmth between your sheets to keep you company, you rest your head on Jungkook’s bicep and look up at him. Your fingers continue tracing patterns on his chest, tracing the swirls and curves of ink as they appear.

Jungkook dips his head to nudge your nose and you softly laugh as his hair falls into your face. “What are you thinking about, baby?” He murmurs, lazily draping an arm over you. By now, you’ve realized that Jungkook is possibly the most vulnerable with you in moments like this. When you’re both bare and basking in a post-sex haze.

That’s not to say that he’s not vulnerable at other times. But it’s just different like this.

You take his hand and thread your fingers through his. His fingers are bare, as you had taken his rings off and they’re currently sitting in your jewelry dish on your dresser.

“We just,” You murmur, “We spent so long being apart. When we should’ve been together. All because I…”

“Stop,” Jungkook says firmly but gently, “Don’t do that. You’re where you’re supposed to be. We’re where we’re supposed to be.”

“But we wasted so much time not being together because of me,” You mumble forlornly, feeling your throat getting a little dry, “Because I listened to Sora and didn’t-”

“Oh, baby,” Jungkook says, pulling you in for a hug and a forehead kiss, “That’s not true at all. We’re together now, and we both had some growing to do. That’s what matters.”

“Okay,” You reply in a strained voice. You don’t quite sound like you believe him, and Jungkook makes a mental note of that. “Do you feel like… we have lost time to make up for?”

“Do you feel like that?” Jungkook counters, making your heart skip a beat, “Because I don’t. I know it’s hard, baby, but you can’t beat yourself up for that. It’s in the past, baby. Forgive yourself. There’s nothing to race against, it’s just me and you.”

“I’ll try,” You say a little meekly. Jungkook nods and pulls you in for a soft kiss, one that has your toes curling and your belly flipping. He shifts so that you’re tucked into his side, surrounded by him and his hands on your skin. He kisses you until your previous thoughts don’t feel so loud in your head, he whispers to you and pulls sweet laughs from your throat until you can detach from the strange cloud that had suddenly appeared.

He’s your safe place.

*********

MoM TAGS: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505 @dreadity @mysugarkoo @ULTRAANONYMOUSEY @moonchild1 @fan-ati--c

TAGS: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

[river-bottom-nightmare]

You Don’t Have To

Happy Birthday @screennamealreadyused !! Your birthday gift is a damijon ficlet. I get the feeling you like overdramatic, soap-opera-y fics based on the kinda stuff you come up with in the server, so hopefully that came across. 

What Jon didn’t think other people realized was that Damian, if comfortable enough, enjoyed talking. Of course, the subjects he was interested in were a tad limited, and he mentioned decapitation too often for Jon’s liking, but he enjoyed it. Barring Nightwing, Jon doubted anyone had ever taken the time to sit and listen to what Damian had to say, but Nightwing was his own adult superhero with his own adult life. And despite the fact that Damian was prickly and rude, his holier-than-thou attitude absolutely infuriating, his tendency to just drag Jon wherever he wanted despite the fact that Jon could technically crush him with one foot, despite all of that, Jon decided he wanted to be Damian’s friend. He was interesting, loud and abrasive in a way Smallville never boasted. 

Today it was cows. Ma Kent had let Damian milk some of the cows, and now, sitting on the roof of the barn, licking melting ice cream drops off their hands, Damian was telling Jon the story of a couple bulls Ra’s had bought.

“You ever think about going to go visit them?” Jon asked.

“Jon,” Damian said dryly. “Grandfather killed the bulls a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

“Also,” Damian’s voice had dropped, going quiet in a purposefully shy way that Jon had never heard before, “I’m not even sure I would be welcomed back.”

“What?” Jon said, almost on instinct. “That’s nuts! I mean, I know your Grandad is a crazy assassin or something, but your mom...she loves you right?”

“She does,” Damian said, then added, “sort of.”

“You can’t only sort of love someone,” Jon said, because Mom was sharp and pointy, her lips turned up in a smirk as she chased down a story, her fingernails tapping on a paper pad. But she tried to make Jon cookies even though she always burnt them and called Kon over so they could do their nails together and told Jon bedtime stories and she loved him.

Damian hesitated, as if trying to find the right words. “My mother wanted a perfect son. One she could use to reclaim her supposed place by Father’s side, one that would take over Batman title.”

“But...” Jon urged on.

“But I don’t think Batman was ever meant to be a legacy, not the way Robin or Batgirl were. And,” Damian paused, growing so quiet Jon had to use his superhearing to make out what Damian mumbled. “I don’t really want to be Batman.”

Damian cringed, as if expecting Jon to say something cutting, something admonishing. Jon just said the first thing that came into his head.

“You don’t have to.”

Startled, Damian looked up. “What?”

“You don’t have to,” Jon repeated. “You don’t have to be Batman if you don’t want to. You can be some other hero, or even make your own name.”

“I can’t just do that!”

“Sure you can,” Jon said. “What’s stopping you?”

“My mother, I think. Also, I suppose it’s just expected of me.”

“Nah,” Jon said, finishing off the last of his ice cream. “No one’s expecting you are forcing you to do anything. If you don’t want to be Batman, you don’t have to be Batman.”

Damian eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Maybe not,” Jon shrugged. “But I’ll back you up.”

“She wants me to come back,” Damian whispered, his voice drowned out by the chirping of crickets outside, the sunset approaching. 

“What?” Jon asked, scrambling to sit up. His limbs move awkwardly on the bed, moving with the exact opposite of grace, the way most teenagers were known for. But as Damian pulled himself into a seated position, curling up his legs, Jon saw nothing but control and elegance. “Who wants you to come back?”

“My mother.”

“Woah, your mother?,” Jon bounced over to sit next to Damian. “And she wants you to come back to...what? The League of Assassins.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jon poured every ounce of incredulity he could muster into his voice. “You’re a hero. You’re not an assassin anymore.” 

Damian shrugged, limbs taught and face stony.

“Hold on. Damian. You’re not actually thinking of going with her, right?”

“She’s my mother,” Damian said helplessly. “And though she hasn’t always been the best one, she seemed sincere the last time she asked.”

“Let’s go back to the part where you said she hasn’t always been the best mother, because she hasn’t, at all.”

“What do you want me to say, Kent?” Damian demanded. “By blood, she is my mother. By blood, I am an al Ghul!”

“You don’t have to be.”

“It’s not about being, Jonathan. You cannot change what you are.”

“No,” Jon said thoughtfully. “You can’t change Talia being your mom. But you don’t have to be an al Ghul.” 

“That’s what her being my mother means, moron.”

“Well by that logic, Dick’s not your brother,” Jon pointed out.

“What!?”

“He’s a Grayson. He was never adopted by Bruce, and he never changed his name either. By blood, he’s a Grayson, and he can’t change who he is.” 

Damian was silent, and Jon felt a little surge of pride at being able to render Damian speechless. But there was a time for gloating, and this wasn’t it. “See? Just because you were born an al Ghul doesn’t mean you have to be one of them. You can be a Wayne, with your dad! Or a Grayson. Or maybe even a Pennyworth!”

“Being a Pennyworth does seem like rather intriguing idea,” Damian said, and he was agreeing with Jon, but drawing closer into himself, huddling up into a little ball. So Jon scooted a little closer and, projecting his movements, wrapped his arms around Damian. Damian didn’t relax into it, but made no move to stop Jon or shift away, so Jon kept holding on.

“Just stick with being Damian for now,” Jon said. “You can figure everything else out later.”

Damian hummed in acknowledgement and slowly, oh so slowly, leaned into Jon’s hug. Privately, Jon didn’t know what he’d do if Damian ever decided to leave and become an assassin. You’d think someone like him would have tons of friends, but Jon’s terrible attempts at secrecy and the way he tried to distance himself in order to keep his powers in check turned most people away. That and being miles ahead of everyone else in class due to Damian’s tutoring (I will not stand to have an associate who is of such low intellectual level) led to Damian being the best of his few friends. He would not handle Damian leaving very well at all.

But he knew that was the last thing Damian wanted to hear. So Jon simply hugged him for a little while, until Mom called them down to dinner.

Jon tried and failed to track Damian’s movements, eyes latching onto his best friend. Exercising to work off anger was apparently a saying Damian took to heart, because Damian had shown up at his house in the middle of the day and, after avoiding Jon’s questions, had paced around the living room, somehow angrily done a backflip and scoffed, saying how he was just as capable of acrobatics to a very confused Jon, and was now doing push-ups.

And the view was—the view was really nice if Jon was being honest with himself, but he was sick of Damian ignoring him. So, he sighed and walked over to Damian, plopping down on his back and folding his legs.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” Jon said.

Damian had been startled into pausing when Jon first made his way over, but soon restarted his reps, and snarled, “I don’t need your help, Kent.”

“Well clearly you do, since you showed up at my house on a weekend seething mad.”

“I’m not seething mad.”

“You’re doing anger push-ups.”

“I am not doing anger push-ups. Those aren’t even a thing.”

“Then what exactly are you doing right now?”

Damian was silent.

Jon made an exasperated noise. He’d sworn to break through Damian’s emotional constipation a long time back, but it clearly wasn’t working. “Damian,” Jon said, stressing each syllable. “Tell me why you’re mad.”

For a minute, Jon thought Damian was going to ignore him entirely. Then, all at once, Damian burst out, “She wants Robin!”

“Who?” Jon asked, though there could only be one candidate.

It was like a dam broke. “Mar’i. She wants Robin. It’s not like she hasn’t been training for it, and I was someone who helped with her training.”

“But you’re not ready to give it up.”

“No,” Damian said quietly. “I didn’t realize how much I relied on the role. I have to be Robin.”

“You don’t. You don’t have to be Robin.”

“Yeah,” Damian sighed. “And I want to give it to her, I really do. I want to pass down Robin so Mar’i looks up to me like right now, instead of ending up with a relationship between their replacements like my brothers. And I don’t even want to imagine how Grayson will feel about it if there’s a fight.”

“You don’t need it, Damian. You’re just scared.”

“Robin was the thing that gave me purpose outside my old life. It’s what made me a hero instead of a villain.”

“Giving it up won’t turn you into a villain either,” Jon hopped off Damian’s back. Holding a hand out, Jon said, “Come on. I think an early patrol will help the both of us. You don’t have to be Robin, and I’m gonna show you that you can still be a hero without it.”

Jon wasn’t exactly sure when the title of “Official Damian Wayne Translator” switched from Dick to him. Granted, the two of them spent a lot of time together, and he knew Damian better than himself.

Then again, that was the problem, wasn’t it. 

A bunch of random heroes will just show up in Jon’s dorm room and demand Jon talk some sense into Damian, or work through his problems, or do something to make him less unbearable. And usually, Jon did it.

He listened to Damian’s complaints without hesitation, talked through his struggles and worries attentively. And he never once asked for anything in return.

He knew how hopelessly gone he was. Damian was his best friend, Damian trusted him like no one else. It made Jon feel special, though it really shouldn’t. Because Damian sure didn’t think he was special.

Some small, spiteful part of himself wanted to say something the next time Damian came over with a set of problems for Jon to solve. To say sorry, he had an important assignment due and he had to finish. To say he really didn’t have the time, maybe Damian could come back later. To say he was sick and tired of Damian taking him for granted, for believing Jon would always be there to support him no matter what.

But one look at those eyes filled to the brim with trust and Jon’s resolve crumbed. There were very few people in the world Damian trusted, and Jon would do anything to make sure he never fell off that list.

So he sucked it up, stayed quiet, stayed kind, stayed helpful.

Until Damian came to him one day asking him how to ask a guy out.

“Stop,” Jon whispered, feeling something inside him crack. “Just stop.”

“I—what?”

“You have no right being so cruel.”

Damian stared at him, a hint of apprehensiveness in his face. “What are you talking about?”

“As if you don’t know, Damian. Your family is full of detectives, there’s no way you don’t know.” Oh no, Jon’s voice was starting to waver, but he couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t control it, couldn’t pull himself together long enough to tell Damian this one thing. “And I was okay with it, because you didn’t really like anyone. But apparently that’s not true. You just don’t like me.”

Jon looked up at Damian and saw nothing but shock in those green eyes.

“But you need to stop,” Jon continued. “Stop always assuming I’ll be there for you, stop treating me like your personal therapist or whatever, stop taking me for granted.”

“I don’t—” Damian tried to whisper, but Jon cut him off.

“Because I don’t think I can take it anymore,” Jon said, and his voice was entirely too raw for his comfort, so he took a breath to gain some semblance of control. “I’m sorry. I really can’t help you with that. But I can still be your friend.”

There was silence, a thick, heavy silence. Jon opted to stare at the floor, watching his feet fidget nervously. 

Then, “You don’t have to.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to. Be just my friend, I mean,” Damian clarified.

“You...you really—what?”

“I didn’t know, Jon,” Damian said, sounding almost ashamed. “I swear I didn’t. If I had, well,” Damian trailed off, stepping closer and looking up at Jon, his face filled with pain. 

He tugged Jon down into a kiss, and Jon could barely process what was happening, but Damian was kissing him, so he responded mindlessly. When Damian pulled back, though, he realized the other boy was saying something, over and over and over.

“I’m sorry,” Damian breathed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

It was like a slap to the face. Damian never said sorry. He fixed the problem, sometimes avoided it outright, or gave a halfhearted, forced excuse. All those years with the Bats had done little to his pride. But here he was, gripping Jon’s arms and apologizing, asking for Jon’s forgiveness like he meant it.

“I never meant to make you feel like that,” Damian “I would never, I swear. You’re my best friend, and I thought that meant being able to talk to you about anything.”

“You can, you always can,” Jon was quick to reassure him.

Damian shook his head. “But I never offered you the same in return. And that was awful of me and I’m sorry. I’ll,” Damian’s voice faltered. “I’ll apologize as many times as I need if it means I still have you.”

“You don’t have to,” Jon assured him. “It’s okay, you mean it, I can tell.” Then, he leaned down to kiss Damian once more, and mumbled against his lips, “You’ll always have me.”

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @elles-shitposts-personified @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg @iconbicon

[citizen-l]

02. Window

Chanyeol never thought he'd be under someone's flat throwing tiny rocks at their window. Never in a million years did he imagine himself to be in this position. Sure he did some crazy things in life, but never something as cringe-inducing as this. In broad daylight too. Jesus. 

"Hey!" someone called him and Chanyeol looked back to find Officer Joey looking at him with narrow eyes and creased brows. "You're the kid from last night, aren't you?"

"Hi, yeah," Chanyeol said awkwardly. 

"Why are you throwing stones?"

"No one's answering the buzzer?"

"Ever heard of calling?"

Yeah well, Joey, I would, but I have their phone with me. And while we're talking, Joey, fuck you. God, Chanyeol wanted to scream at the ridiculousness of it. 

Chanyeol never would have forgotten to return Baekhyun's phone that he pocketed in case of an emergency just that morning before taking him to get stitches. Never would have under normal circumstances. But getting a too sweet goodbye strawberry kiss was not a normal circumstance. Chanyeol could feel his ears getting warm and red, and Joey was still there staring at him. 

"I have something that I desperately need to give Baekhyun," Chanyeol said. Judging by the familiar way Baekhyun had talked to Joey before, maybe Joey would leave him alone if he realized Chanyeol wasn't a threat to Baekhyun. "Calling didn't help, and I'm pretty sure Baekhyun really needs this. So, yeah…"

Honestly, Chanyeol would have just found Sehun and given the phone to him and been done with it. But Sehun was MIA with Junmyeon. And Chanyeol hadn't had a chance until this late in the afternoon to come by and hand over the phone. But he'd be lying if he said he kinda maybe didn't want to check if Baekhyun was alright. Oh God, what if he's lying unconscious on the floor again? 

"At this hour, he's probably at some rehearsal, hop in," Joey gestured towards the passenger side. 

Chanyeol was having a hard time digesting what was happening. How did he end up riding shotgun in a police vehicle? How did Joey know so much about Baekhyun's schedule when even Sehun was of no help? What the hell was going on with Chanyeol's life, good lord?

Joey dropped at one of the smaller auditoriums east side of the campus. Chanyeol had never ventured this way, never had any cause to. 

"Tell him I said hi," Joey smirked before leaving Chanyeol there. He probably got off on how shook Chanyeol was. 

The huge double doors opened up to a lobby. The signs said dressing rooms were to the left, and to the right were the rows of identical doors leading to the actual auditorium. For audiences. Chanyeol decided it was best to check there first since he could hear voices and music coming from one of the half opened doors. 

The only auditorium Chanyeol had ever been to on campus was on the north end, the one where the big seminars are usually held. This one was different, definitely not for academic or corporate lectures. The lights, the stage, even the seating was different. This was made for performing musicals like the one a dozen or so people were rehearsing. 

"Oh woe, to be trapped in this age…" a woman wailed dramatically while lying flat on the stage. 

"Oh, what is this I see! Some faerie-like creature come for me?"

Someone sang, another voice joined with a deep baritone that sounded somewhat like Baekhyun, but Chanyeol had never heard him sing before. 

"Hello hello, fair man," someone said. 

"Ah! My prince has come to save me, joy be!" shouted a guy as large as Chanyeol but lankier.

That was when he realized they were all talking about him. A bunch of theatre kids finding a new person interrupting their rehearsal, of course they would be dramatic about it. What did Chanyeol expect? 

"How can I help you, sir?" a brunette girl asked with a fake British accent. 

Someone started singing about waiting for him all her life as he went down the stairs towards the stage where he could spot a guy with a bandaged hand and hoped it was Baekhyun. He was wearing a hat so Chanyeol couldn't clearly see the cotton candy fluff on his head. 

A guy in suspenders and lipstick stopped him by starting to dance suggestively and singing a Burlesque song. God this bunch was loud. Two others came around him, the brunette and another woman with red and white streaks in her black hair and the three started a whole number with impressive impromptu harmonies and suggestive body rolls. 

"Chanyeol?" he heard Baekhyun's surprised voice from the stage. 

There he was, hat in hand, pink hair almost glowing under the harsh light of the stage, eyes squinting to see Chanyeol awkwardly standing as three people sang some jazz song and moved their pelvis in a way that Chanyeol would rather not witness at the moment. 

"Hey, hi," he used Baekhyun's interruption as his getaway card and moved around the dancing trio. "Sorry for barging in like this, just wanted to return this."

Baekhyun jumped straight down from the stage seeing his phone. Chanyeol was momentarily shocked, and the worry he felt in that instant thinking something bad might happen to Baekhyun jumping down from so high nearly rendered him speechless. 

"Oh my God, thank you! I've been looking everywhere for it. I really thought I lost it during my steakout yesterday."

Stakeout?

"Nah I took it with me when I took you to the pharmacy, forgot about it afterwards."

"Well, thank you for bringing it back all the way here."

And then Baekhyun was hugging him, arms around Chanyeol's shoulders, hot breath on the side of his neck, Baekhyun stood on tiptoes and Chanyeol didn't know what to do with his own hands. 

"Why can't I get a man like that?" a girl sighed from one side. 

"Wait, is that the guy? He really carried Baek… I mean I can see he's got…"

"Holy shit, he's real?!"

"Of course he's real, Minseok," Baekhyun said and he let go of Chanyeol. 

"Uh, I should go…" Chanyeol said awkwardly. 

"What? Wait, I haven't done anything to thank you," Baekhyun said. 

But you did, Chanyeol thought. You kissed me. That was a thank you, no? What was the kiss about? Why the fuck did Baekhyun kiss him? God, Chanyeol was going out of his mind trying to figure it out. 

"That's okay, you don't have to…"

"Nonsense, let me just get changed and then I'll treat you to something delicious."

"Hopefully not something too delicious," someone said. 

"Don't forget about the party tonight," someone else said. 

But Chanyeol couldn't focus on all the things everyone was saying. He was finally focused on Baekhyun's outfit. Suspenders, a dirty-white pirate shirt tucked haphazardly into leather pants.

"Be a little more discreet ogling his ass, will you?" The guy with pretty eyes, Minseok whispered near and Chanyeol nearly choked on his spit. 

"Oh leave him be," Another guy, the one who was singing with Baekhyun said, he had a cat-like smile. "He's too whipped anyway, let him enjoy."

Jesus. Chanyeol wanted out of here. It wasn't that these guys were half bad. Quite the opposite, Chanyeol found them sort of endearing with the way they passionately rehearsed their lines, danced and sang even without an instructor guiding them, on a Saturday. But taking jabs at Chanyeol and laughing at his "whipped" nature was unsettling him. He was not whipped for Baekhyun, he was just still stuck on a stupid kiss. 

Chanyeol sighed, he couldn't blame anyone. Not these guys, they were just having fun. If anyone, Chanyeol should blame Sehun. Now that guy was whipped, for Junmyeon. A little too much. If it wasn't for Sehun, Chanyeol wouldn't have been temporarily homeless and had to spend the night at Baekhyun's. 

"Stop teasing him, people. See you later," Baekhyun sang as he came back dressed in a baggy sweater and loose camo pants tucked into his boots. He tugged Chanyeol's shirt sleeve to follow him out. 

"Don't forget to bring dessert," someone shouted. 

"Bring Prince Charming as well, while you're at it!"

"Sorry about that, they tend to be a little rowdy during the weekend," Baekhyun said. 

They sat facing each other in a booth at a quaint little café/bakery just outside of their main campus. Chanyeol had never even noticed it, but Baekhyun said they have the best baked goods he ever had. 

"You don't hate sweets, do you?" Baekhyun asked, a little alarmed. 

Chanyeol looked at him like he was crazy, thinking back on how he was seconds away from sucking the taste of freaking strawberry milk from Baekhyun's tongue. Chanyeol coughed and shook his head. He was fine with sweets. Their coffee and chocolate covered donuts came soon after. Chanyeol had to admit they were good, had the potential to ruin his body and all his hard work, but he could indulge on occasion. 

"How did you find me anyway?" Baekhyun asked while licking chocolate off his fingers. 

"Joey," Chanyeol said and tried not to stare. "I was actually at your apartment, he found me and said you'd be at rehearsal. He even gave me a ride. He said hi."

"Ah, makes sense."

"How are you so close to the officer, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh he used to date my mom, didn't work out though. But I like him, we occasionally meet up because he has two dogs and I'm desperately trying to convince him to let me adopt them."

The way he said it made Chanyeol laugh. And that was surprising because Chanyeol doesn't usually feel this comfortable with people so quickly. Well, maybe it had something to do with last night's fiasco. And the kiss. Fuck.

Chanyeol wanted to ask about it, so bad. But it felt weird. And awkward. And Chanyeol wasn't sure he could ask with a straight face. It bothered him. Not in a negative way. More like, he couldn't figure it out and it was irritating. It was like not knowing what that sound was at the back of a well-produced song and obsessing over it for days and even weeks until finally it was clear. 

"What are you doing tonight?" Baekhyun asked. 

"Uh, nothing much, I guess," Chanyeol sipped his coffee. 

"How do you feel about a social gathering? Dinner will be on me."

"The party your friends were talking about?"

"It's not much of a party, really. Just some friends hanging out together."

"Well, I don't think I'd fit in, and I don't wanna be a bother among friends," Chanyeol said. 

"Well, as humble as that sounds, I insist. And you heard Jongin, they want you there. They wouldn't have asked so directly in front of you if they didn't."

Was it worth it? Should Chanyeol give up another night at his apartment to spend time with Baekhyun and his eccentric friends? 

"Wear something white," Baekhyun said. 

"Wait, I haven't decided whether I'd go."

"I've decided for you, it'll be fun. I'll pick you up at 8."

"How's your hand?" Chanyeol decided to change the topic. Maybe he can get away with the party thing later with a better excuse. 

"Hurts a little, but good otherwise. Nearly got plastered under a ladder while rehearsing, but narrowly escaped."

"Does that often happen?" Chanyeol was more alarmed than he probably should have been. 

"Nah, I just got distracted. But anyway, I gotta go make a cake. Oh hey, I should have your number."

Half an hour later, Chanyeol was shifting through his wardrobe looking for white clothes. He had none. He regretted ever agreeing to go to the party, which, by the way, he never explicitly agreed to. 

His phone buzzed with a text from "Kyoong", Baekhyun had insisted, with an impromptu photo of his doing a finger heart, that that be his nickname on Chanyeol's phone. God knows why Chanyeol agreed. 

"Be there in ten." The text read. Great. No way to back out now. 

"I kind of have an issue." Chanyeol texted back. It felt like a weak excuse to get out of going to the party, even though this was a genuine issue. 

And then Baekhyun was calling him and Chanyeol nearly dropped his phone. He finally saw the pout Baekhyun sneakily did which wasn't noticeable with the small icon. Jesus. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, sorry, started driving so I couldn't text back. Don't worry, Bluetooth, and I'm almost at your place. What's the issue?"

"I'm going to hang up and we can talk when you get here."

"Wai-" 

Chanyeol did as he said and waited until Baekhyun was knocking at his door. 

"Okay, glad that you're concerned about me dying on the road but never hang up on me, bothers the hell out of me. So, now, what's the issue?"

"I don't have anything white," Chanyeol said.

"Your roommate? Borrow something of his."

"I don't know if you met Junmyeon or not, but we're sort of not the same size."

"Well, I don't think Sehun owns anything remotely classy either."

That's when Chanyeol finally registered what Baekhyun was wearing. A high collared Victorian shirt with ruffles on the sleeves and neck, a few streaks of shimmering thread on his chest and shoulders. A corset. Loose breeches tucked into knee-high boots. All white. 

"You look beautiful," Chanyeol said before he could stop himself. 

"Why, thank you, dear sir. I spent hours trying to fit this just right. Et voila."

"You made this?"

"Tweaked. I'm no seamstress. But I can use a needle."

Right. Of course. Chanyeol should stop staring at Baekhyun's shiny cheeks that matched the color of his cotton candy pink hair. Get a grip. 

"You said classy outfit, right? I have all-black fits, recital clothes."

"Ah, that would create quite the buzz, but I like the idea. Show me," Baekhyun said. And then he neatly sat down on Chanyeol's bed and crossed his legs, waiting for Chanyeol to appear in his black attire. 

Right. Well, Chanyeol wasn't ready to strip in front of this Victorian ghost boy yet. Yet? Jesus Christ, his mind was well on its way to the gutter. 

"I'll be right back," Chanyeol took the shirt and pants from his drawers and went to the bathroom to change. 

He came back to soft music playing on his speakers. His music. 

"Sorry, I was snooping around and found your disks. You really composed these?"

"Uh, yeah, last term."

"I need to get this on my phone. Later. Well, you look pretty."

Chanyeol felt his ears go red. 

"Are you wearing contacts?"

"Yeah."

"You weren't wearing them last night, you wore your glasses. That's why I couldn't recognize you right away. Well. Mind switching now? It'll fit better."

It was ridiculous how Chanyeol just switched from contacts to glasses without protests. 

"And I love this collar," Baekhyun walked up to him and undid the first two buttons from his half-collar. "Hmm, better. You have any accessories?"

"Uh…"

"My friends are very serious about weekend parties, you'll be surprised by the amount of effort they put in. They'll appreciate it if you showed you cared too. But no pressure, I mean, don't make yourself uncomfortable or anything. You already look really good so I don't think you need to worry, plus I'm sure everyone would just appreciate you being there…"

Baekhyun was babbling and it was so adorable, Chanyeol was shamelessly just staring without being the least bit discreet about it. 

He ended up wearing the silver necklace his sister got him last year on his birthday. Half a heart, the other half was on Yuna's wrist. 

They arrived at Chen's apartment in town. It was… not what Chanyeol expected, at all. Chen, the one with the catlike smile, wore a Peter Pan outfit, all white, with white antlers on his head instead of the hat. He padded barefoot as he welcomed Baekhyun and Chanyeol inside. Some of the others were familiar faces Chanyeol had seen earlier at the auditorium. A Medusa with white dreadlocks and a white snakeskin-like dress contrasting her brilliant ebony skin. A Lucifer in a white suit and tarred feet. Two Victorian ghosts much like Baekhyun but very differently dressed. A guy dressed as honest-to-God Edgar Allan Poe with a fake moustache, looking ready to attend his own wedding in a three piece embroidered suit. The woman on his side dressed as a bride, probably the cousin. And then there was Minseok serving wine wearing a white fur coat and the crown of a king. 

Well. This was. Something. 

"I should kick you out for not wearing even a thread of white," Minseok said. "But you look good, and you're carrying the cake, so I'll overlook this time."

"Don't mind him, you look perfect," Chen laughed with genuine delight. Everyone else agreed. 

"Help me with the cake," Baekhyun gestured towards the kitchen with his head and Chanyeol followed. 

Baekhyun had made two cakes but decorating them and bringing them over would have been a disaster. So he put everything in containers, the cakes, the fondant, buttercream, chocolate and other decorations, and strapped them to the back seat of his car. This party was no joke. 

Chanyeol set down the containers on the kitchen counter, which was already full of dishes being prepared and ready to be set on the table. 

"I feel like I should have brought something," Chanyeol said to Baekhyun. 

"Well, at least you brought your wits," the tall lanky actor dressed like the ghost of Monte Christo said as he handed a glass of white wine to Chanyeol. 

"You having flashbacks of your initiation, Jongin?" Chen laughed as he stirred some kind of soup in a pot. 

"Jesus, don't remind me," Jongin shuddered and went back to sit with the others. 

Baekhyun layered and put cream on the cake. Then fondant. Then carefully crafted cream flowers, roses and white chocolate feathers. Chanyeol stood there in awe, occasionally handing over whatever Baekhyun asked for and watched the cakes turn into works of art. How? One man. How? 

One man who can sing and act and probably dance too, can bake and decorate cakes, sew and fit his own medieval style clothes, and kiss. 

This party was a bad idea. Chanyeol was glad he didn't miss it. Getting to know Baekhyun's friends and how Baekhyun acted around them was a serious thing. Chanyeol paid attention to every conversation and voiceless interaction. He really should be a bit more careful. He couldn't help looking at Baekhyun every chance he got. 

The internal conflict Chanyeol was having was driving him crazy. 

What was happening? 

[kellanved-ammanas]

Late

It was finally October, Halloween month as some thought of it, which meant Merasmus should come around any day to mess with them and change up their battles with magic and stuff. But… it was two weeks in and he hadn’t even so much as shown up yet. He’d been late a few times before but never that late.

The rest of the team either seemed pleased by this or didn’t show any signs of caring. Pyro however did care. Merasmus made things fun and Pyro had always liked him. And the magic he always brought with him was the best; fireballs and everyone getting a chance to turn invisible, the cute little skeletons dudes and everything else never failed be awesome. So… where was he and why hadn’t he shown up yet?

“I don’t know,” Soldier said with a shrug when Pyro brought that question to him. As Merasmus’ former roommate he’d been the most obvious person to ask first. “Maybe he took the coward’s way out and gave up.” Hopefully not, Halloween was bound to be less fun without him.

The next most obvious person to ask was Spy because he tended to know a lot about everyone, it was his job after all. But… “Nope, I’ve no clue where he is,” was his answer as he swirled his wine in one hand, not even deigning to look up from his book. “Nor do I care to know because that would mean he came back to bother us. I’ve been enjoying not having him around for once.”

“Uh… you’re right, it is past time for him to show up, huh?” was Miss Pauling’s answer upon Pyro bringing the question to her. “I wonder why he hasn’t yet. I could probably find him if I really wanted to but…” she looked down at her desk and all the messy paperwork scattered all over it, “I’m kind of busy. Sorry Pyro, I’m sure he’ll show up any day now though so try to be just a little more patient.”

Pyro was tired of being patient though. He wanted proper Halloween and he wanted it now. … Maybe he could just find Merasmus himself. “Where does he live?”

Pauling raised an eyebrow at him. “I suppose I can give you that but how do you plan on getting down there?”

“I’ll have someone drive me.” This job paid more than well enough to pay someone to drive him around for a day or two if no one on the team wanted to come with him.

“All right I guess.” She turned to start typing something into the computer. “Wait until the weekend to go though and come back before battle starts on Monday. And don’t let the Administrator know, she doesn’t like how lax am I with you guys sometimes.”

Pyro nodded his assent; he hadn’t been planning to let the Administrator know anything about it anyway. And even though now that the idea had occurred to him, he was already rearing and ready to go, he could wait a couple more days. Maybe Merasmus would even show up in that time, rendering the trip unnecessary. One could only hope.

***

“You really going to let them win this year?” the Bombinomicon taunted for the umpteenth time as Merasmus strode into the library. He’d been expecting it but that didn’t make it any less annoying. “You always go down there to harass them around Halloween by not going this year, you’re admitting defeat, do you really want that?”

No but he never won no matter what he did and only ever wracked up more debt with his schemes. So he’d made the decision that he wasn’t going this year because what was the point? He wouldn’t accomplish anything but annoying and inconveniencing the mercs for however long he stuck around. He had better things to be doing with his time like… like… just other better things.

With a huff, he strode over to put the book in his hands back in its proper place.

“Of all the times for you to have one of your moping spells, why’d it have to be now?” the Bombinomicon continued because not replying encouraged him about as much as replying did.

“I’m not moping.” He was a powerful evil wizard and powerful evil wizards did not mope.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you’re moping. And it’s really annoying because we should be doing things right now but we’re not because you’re moping around the castle feeling sorry for yourself again.”

Biting back an angry retort, Merasmus snatched the book he’d come in here for off the shelf and started for the exit.

“And now you’re going to run away like a…”

Merasmus slammed the door shut behind him, cutting off whatever insult the Bombinomicon had been about to throw at him. He really needed to do something about that damn book one of these days. Maybe he should do it now that he was thinking about it again because he’d been meaning to for a while. … He wasn’t in the mood though so he’d do it later, next time he needed to go into the library for sure… maybe.

Before he could go up more than a few steps to his room a hearty knock came from his front door. It was either another ding-dong-ditch from the teens that lived in the nearby town, a door-to-door salesman, or if he was really lucky another religious nutjob here to try to banish or convert him to whatever brand of religion they were peddling. In case it was one of the latter two, he placed his book down on the coffee table and put on his best evil smile as he strode over to answer it.

It was the red Pyro. Lifting a hand in a wave he muttered what sounded like a “Hello,” through his mask.

Merasmus was so surprised to find one of the mercs at his door it took him a few seconds to find his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s Halloween month but you haven’t shown up yet so I came to check on you. Are you okay?”

“What?” Merasmus asked because there was no way that was actually what Pyro had said.

But Pyro repeated himself, speaking slower and clearer. He really had come all the way out here to check on Merasmus because he hadn’t shown up to bother the mercs. But… shouldn’t he have been pleased about that?

“You’ve never been this late before,” Pyro continued, still speaking in a way that made it easier to hear him through the mask. “So I thought something must be wrong. Like maybe the Mafia finally caught you and I’d have to go burn them down to save you. I’m glad that’s not the case. But are you okay? I lose track of time sometimes too so I understand if that’s why you’re so late.”

“I uh… I’m fine. I’m not going down there to bother you this year. I have better things to be spending my time on than wasting it trying to kill a bunch of mercenaries who can’t even die to begin with.” He was about to slam the door shut but the way Pyro’s entire body seemed to sag with disappointment stopped him.

Pyro mumbled something that his mask rendered unintelligible.

“What?”

“But Halloween!” he repeated. “It won’t be the same without you.”

How was Merasmus even supposed to respond to that? He’d never had anyone be disappointed he hadn’t shown up to bother them before. Heck, he’d never had anyone show up at his door to ask him if he was okay before either. It was weird but… he kind of liked it?

“Are you sure you don’t want to come? What if I help you? You give me all the magics and I’ll rain down pretty fire everywhere.”

“You’d really join my side and attack your teammates?” His quarrel was mostly with Soldier after all.

Pyro nodded. “They’d understand. Or you could join our team and give us magic to attack the BLUs. … Or if you’d rather not that’s fine too…” he trailed off to say a bit more that was really only unintelligible mumbling as he dropped his hands to hand limply by his side. It was pretty dang clear he wanted Merasmus to do his usual Halloween thing.

If it were anyone other than Pyro, Merasmus wouldn’t still given an instant ‘no’. But he’d always been intrigued by Pyro and the mystery that shrouded him. And well Pyro had come all the way out here to ‘check on him’ which no one had ever done for him before so… “Fine, as long as you agree to be my ally, I’ll return.” That should make it more interesting and might result in him winning for once, whatever that might mean when neither side’s people would stay dead if killed.

Pyro clapped and… hugged him. Thankfully it was brief enough that Merasmus didn’t have time to even try to respond to it because what the fuck even? Pulling back, Pyro grabbed his wrist and tugged him out the door. “Let’s go, it’ll be fun.”

Well, it’d certainly be better than not moping around his castle was. So maybe it would be fun.

[chappedandfadedvds]

Jan 19th, Tuesday 18:08

„What would you like to drink?“

Jens went over towards the kitchen, followed by cautious feet behind him, as he tried to recount what Lies had bought on the weekend.

„We don’t have a lot of alcohol,“ the boy went on, „but I think we have some beer and there should be an opened red wine from Saturday, if I’m not mistaken.“ He opened the fridge, scanning the items, while his finger tapped across the cold frame of the door he hold onto. „Other than that, orange or apple juice, and like icetea or water.“ 

„Water will do, and some of the wine. We don’t want it to go to waste, right?“

„Of course not.“ Jens replied, grabbing said bottles to carry them over to the table. He took a deep breath. He closed the fridge. Jens was incredibly nervous. Had been for hours today. It just had gotten worse, once the doorbell had rung five minutes ago.

His father stood by the set table, tall and sturdier than Jens had remembered him to be. Still the man had the same face, the same wandering eyes, that constantly seemed to examine everything it could catch. Hendrik was older, his hair giving in to grey strands that fell into his face again and again, only to be tugged behind the ear.

His father looked lost in this house. Familiar and yet an intruder in the home, his mom had created for her and her three children. The image was off, tilted and skrewed.

„If she isn’t down in a couple minutes, I’ll go up myself. Seriously, ever since she started playing Mario Maker 2 with Olivia last week, she had barely done anything else.“ Jens complained, brushing off the slight discomfort, because what else was there to talk about. Everything he wanted to say, was too much, too personal to bring up over dinner. He’d ask his father to stay a little longer, once Lotte would be in bed.

„I’m trying hard to keep it in, but I remember another eight-year-old, who refused to put his gameboy away for anything but to sleep. Throwing a tantrum whenever it was gone.“ 

Hendrik laughed, his eyes crinkled in kindness despite the jab at his son’s expense. Jens felt the awkwardness rise to his cheeks, while he grinned back at the man across of him. He had a point, Jens guessed. 

„Do you still need help with anything?

„No. It’s in the oven to keep warm. Just waiting for Lotte.“ Jens explained and waved off the kind offer, that fell completely short in Jens’s eyes. He also viewed his father to be more a guest than a member of this family. A person who just dropped by as it was convinient. „You can already sit down, though, if you want.“

If Jens was honest with himself, he would have loved to despise his father and scream at the ease of the situation they found themselves in. It went against what Jens would consider to be the normal reaction. He shouldn’t be smiling with a man who choose his work over his children. 

But all these late night talks with his mom had somehow helped to accept it. 

Jens still felt anger, still felt the abondoment and sadness that came with his father’s leave.

He wondered if he should sit here at this table with the man, who even after everything made Jens more serene to know to have around than not. His heart was torn by the duality of his fellings.

„How long have you been on sea this time? And where have you beenin the first place?“ Jens asked, for a lack of a better topic. He also was curious to be a child again and marvel at all the things his father had heard and seen.

„It was the first part of an artic expedition along the Greenlandic coast. I was on this big icebreaker, crushing through the tall waves and large ice floes. Enwrapped in total darkness for the last couple of weeks. Any second spend in a night that never ended. But the stars on cloudless hours were fantastic to see. And the northern lights, I certainly have photographs with me to show you. I’ve seen them before, but it had been years and it completely captivated me again to see the colours dance across the black sky. Absolutely worth giving up the sun for a while.“

His father poured himself some wine and some more for his son, who had just brought them glasses to fill. It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy at least a little bit of gentle drunkness. At least enough to hopefully drown out the faint panic at the conversation ahead of them later that night.

„However, that were just the last three month. I was on a submarine before then. That lasted over the whole summer. I was assisting an old colleague of mine. He is from Irkutsk north of Mongolia in Russia. One of the most brilliant people I had the fortune to meet. He is studying deep sea creatures. And it allowed me to refresh some of my russian. So I obviously took six month of intensive deep diving lessons to further my skills and got my fitness up to be able to go with him. I can hardly put in words how humbling and how extremly frightening the whole experience was. Dangerous to be under so much weight of water and the pressure pounding in on the vessel. No light, only low rumble. Eery.“

His father’s pitch dropped as he spoke. It caught Jens to listen in to every word with intent.

„There was like this gripping loneliness at the bottom of the ocean. We just had each other in an environment that would be lethal for us to be in. Just narrow rooms and halles, wrapped in equipment. I am so grateful to have accepted to go. For a month we even had someone of the BBC with us to film some footage for a documentary.“

And there he was. Hendrik Stoffels. Always something to say, and show, and explain, and ponder over. Eager to get a grasp on the vastness of the sea and the depth of the water beneath him.

Sometimes Jens found himself wishing to be as passionate about anything in his life, like his father was about the marine wildlife and his adventurous expeditions. 

It was hard to hate someone, who has found so much happiness and love outside of traditional metrics. Hendrik hadn’t wanted to settle down and he hadn’t wanted fame nor monetary success. He wanted to explore, Jens’s mom had told him. That was what fullfilled his father, and Jens would be lying if he said he didn’t yearned to figure out what would make him feel like that too.

„Lotte.“ Hendrik proclaimed bright, ripping Jens out of his thoughts, as the girl appeared next to them to take her usual seat. 

She had the switch with her, but the screen was dark and she had placed it next to her plate. Her eyes were stuck on the strange man, she had no recollection of. She had been two when Hendrik had left, who could hold that against her. This man may as well be a random person Jens had picked up on the street.

„My god, Jens had grown, but you, you actually turned into an actual human being.“ Their father chuckled, his gaze transfixed on the girl in wonder. One day a toddler and the next an eight-year-old child. The six years almost non-existent, Jens guessed by the look in their father’s expression.

His words hold the same sentiment that he had brought against Jens on the doorstep into the house. When it had taken Hendrik a long minute to process to have found a young man in the place of his son he had left behind. 

If Jens would be asked, he’d say, that for once his father had been rendered speechless.

„Shall we eat?“ His father went on, when Jens had been to busy with his thoughts to pay attention to the reason they had met in the first place.

„Yes!“ Lotte loudly declared, already wiping the napkin off of her plate.

„One sec.“ Jens replied amused, before he turned to get the baking dish out of the oven.

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

[themusicplayedherlife]

Of Warmth and Growth

pairing: dick grayson x f!reader characters: reader, the team, dick grayson word count: 7.7k+ warnings: angst, self doubt, and boat load of fluff summary: dealing with a broken heart isn’t easy, but your friend megan is hoping to get you out of that fink by inviting you to her holiday party where you meet someone that might help you move on. a/n: there’s a whole story behind this--originally this was started as a requested oneshot, but i couldn’t bring myself to finish it, so i revamped it and wrote a different story that i posted some time ago. fast forward to november, i made it my goal to finish this before the new year, and i was so close, too, but family took priority. there might also be a disconnect, but I really tried smoothing it over, hopefully I did well. anyway, better late than never, though?

Happy Harbour

December 7, 2019

“Sometimes it’s very hard to move on, but once you move on, you’ll realize it was the best decision you’ve ever made. You’ll see.”

You want to laugh bitterly at Megan’s words, but her sympathetic smile and warm gaze are holding you back from doing so. She’s only trying to help, you’re reminded by your conscious as she continues to spew words of healing and bullshit. Utter bullshit. 

Your bitterness wins and you say, “I know,” wanting nothing more than for her to shut up. 

Her smile turns sheepish and she pats your hand affectionately before excusing herself to get more coffee, or to get away from you. You wouldn’t blame her if it was the latter, you haven’t exactly been good company to keep around since your break up.

Sighing, your eyes trail to the world on the other side of the small cafe’s window. It’s bustling and full of people with shopping bags, all of them preparing for the holidays. It really is a different world outside, you muse. Everything inside the coffee shop is warmer and cozier—quieter compared to the outside. It almost, almost makes you forget about your broken heart that was ripped and stomped on by the person you thought loved and cared for you, things that you still, unfortunately, feel for them.

Your red-haired friend comes back with two styrofoam cups instead of one, and she sets one down in front of you, taking her seat across from you once more. “I got you another earl grey.”

You pick up the warm styrofoam, enjoying the heat against your palm. “Thank you.”

Megan doesn’t say anything for once, instead she watches the world with you, letting only the soft jazz of the cafe to envelop you. You can tell she’s going over something in her mind, she’s never this quiet unless she’s thinking, and that’s—usually—never a good thing, at least not when it pertains to you. 

It’s not until you’re halfway done with your drink that she finally speaks, having grown restless with her thinking. She’s looking at you, her eyes narrowed and a little shaky, never really making contact with your own, but still facing your direction. “Sooo, I was thinking,” she drawls, “Conner and I are inviting some of our old friends over for a little get together this weekend and I thought, hey, maybe I can convince my best friend in the whole universe to finally meet my other friends, you know, I want us all to be friends and—“

“You’re rambling.”

“Right; sorry. It’s not going to be a huge thing, just a few of us watching crappy movies and drinking spiked eggnog, maybe play some games or something.” She reaches for your hand holding your drink and finally meets your eyes. “And I really want you to be there. What do you say, huh?”

“Megan,” you start warningly.

She raises a hand as a peace sign. “I know, I know! You said you wanted to keep a low profile this holiday season, but I really want to introduce you. They’re really nice people, a little odd, but so am I and you’re still my friend!”

You purse your lips, mulling over the idea. “Are the girls going to be there?”

“Yes! Well, Karen will be, I’m not sure about Wendy, yet. Should probably ask her tonight.”

Again, you think it over. Not only will you be in a small, confined space with a lot of people (she might have said it wasn’t going to be huge, but you and her have different definitions for small and huge), you’re going to be stuck in a confined space with strangers. It doesn’t sound very pleasing, but then again, you haven’t been very pleasant and there’s no denying that you always dodged her past intents to get you and her friends to hang out, and yet, she’s still here, trying to cheer you up. 

You owe it to her. 

“Okay, I’ll go.” She immediately squeals. Loudly. Blushing, you look around the cafe, and just as you feared, everyone in the small cafe is looking at you. You sigh, lifting a hand to stop her from over exerting herself—and from embarrassing you any further. “Just don’t expect me to bring anything.”

“That’s fine! That’s fine! As long as you bring yourself, I’m content.”

You’re going to regret it, you just know it.

Happy Harbour

December 14, 2019

You tug at the hem of your outfit, uncomfortable. You could hear the loud laughter of the people inside accompanied by the soft hum of Megan’s holiday playlist. In your hand is a Tupperware full of brigadeiro, a Brazilian dessert your grandma used to make for the holidays before she completely quit eating sweet things (in front of your mom anyway).

Fingers tighten around the container. Maybe you should go... You could always deal with an angry Megan later. 

“Are you going to go in or are you just going to stare at the wreath all night?” A deep, amused voice registers in your mind and your body jerks in response, almost making you drop the Tupperware if it weren’t for the steady hand holding you against their strong, chest. “Whoa, there!” he exclaims, warm air fanning over your neck. “You all right?”

He doesn’t allow you to pull away until he steadies you, making sure you’re upright before letting you go. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you breathe out. “Thank you.”

He chuckles and you whirl around to meet your assailant and savior—and holy fuck is he gorgeous. They were gorgeous, too, but in that average kind of way. Nothing about them stood out to people, but to you? They were the most beautiful person you had ever seen. But this man in front of you, you had to be stupid not to notice how gorgeous he is. Striking blue eyes peering into you, a mischievous glint in them and matched by the lopsided smirk adorning his face; unruly black locks in waves and falling to one side as he runs his fingers through his hair. There’s something distinctly boyish and alluring about him that it renders you speechless.

“Megan never told me she had such a gorgeous friend,” he suddenly says. Or maybe not so suddenly because you’re sure his mouth had been moving before you allowed yourself to fall under his spell.

Hold on. 

Wait a second.

Gorgeous?

Did he really just call you gorgeous, too?

Your throat closes and your eyes widen, hopefully not comically or at all because holy shit. A really gorgeous man just called you gorgeous. The last person to ever compliment was your mom. But she’s your mom. She’s supposed to think you’re pretty good looking. And before that it was them. And realizing it now, they probably never even meant it. So this? This is new and weird and what the fuck are you supposed to say to something like that to someone like him. “I—“ 

A draft of air hits your back as the door is swung open behind you. The Christmas music that Megan has been preparing since June is louder than before without the door closed.

“You’re here,” she squeals, wrapping her arms from behind you, her chin settling on your shoulder. “I’m so happy you came!” She kisses your cheek messily and something sweet and alcoholic fills your nostrils. “And you brought something!”

“Yeah, yeah! Don’t make it a thing.” You laugh, pulling away as she makes a show of having to let you go. “How much eggnog have you had?” 

“Not too much.” Her eyes turn to the other guest and her eyes brighten. “Dick!” Dick? What kind of name is Dick? Was his mom angry at his dad? Noticing your stare, he smiles down at you, amusement never leaving his face before he turns to Megan. “You’re here! Wally and the others are already here.” She moves away from the door to let you both in.

Dick gestures to the inside of her apartment. “After you.”

Blinking owlishly, you thank him and enter the loud apartment full of people you don’t recognize—well, mostly of people you don’t recognize. There’s Karen and Mal by the Christmas tree talking to a redhead and a blonde, who Dick makes his way over to after excusing himself. Wendy is with Marvin by the snack table, the two arguing—really it's Marvin arguing—about which dessert is the best for the holidays, and a few other really gorgeous and fit people. Why are all of her friends ridiculously good looking?

“You okay?” Megan asks, her hand settling on your shoulder and squeezing lightly.

Your head swivels in her direction. “What?”

“You were frowning,” she says softly. “Hey, if I forced you to be here—“

“No,” you interrupt her quickly. “No, I’m glad you invited me, I just—I’ll be okay. I promise. You were right about me having to move on. I can’t avoid society forever because of a broken heart. I just need to get used to… this,” you say, moving your eyes around the party of people that seemed to already be coupled off.

She smiles gently but doesn’t seem all that convinced. “I’m right here if you need me, okay?” She takes the Tupperware from your hands. “Come on, let's say hi to everyone.” When you bristle, as you take off your coat, she laughs. “In moderation.”

An hour into the party and you’ve already become acquainted with mostly everyone at the party. You meet Wally and Artemis, the couple who were with Karen and Mal when you first arrived; Raquel and her baby boy, Amistad. Cassie and Tim; Jaime and Bart; Gar and some really weird guy who keeps glaring at Conner; Kaldur, who looks strangely familiar—and only smiles when you mention it before being pulled away by Megan—and Barbara, who eyes you momentarily before flashing you a warm smile. She’s a little intimidating, if you’re being honest.

There are still a few more people you have yet to meet, but you seriously need a break, and you say as much to Megan.

“You said a little party,” you say accusingly, as if you hadn’t known this was her definition of small.

She laughs, her arm hooked around yours as she pulls you towards the spread of food and drinks. “It is little!” She lets go of you, opens the treats you made and places them between all the others. She then grabs a clean cup to fill it with eggnog before handing it to you. “Here! Conner and I made it, so it might not be… good.”

You take a tentative sip of the thick liquid made out of egg and spices and doused with alcohol and holy fuck do you regret it. “You and Conner made this?” you sputter, the taste of bourbon lingering strongly on your tongue.

She pouts. “The recipe called for a ton of bourbon to counteract the sweetness!”

You pull the cup away and eye the liquid with scrutiny. “Did you put a whole bottle of Bourbon from Costco in here?”

“Yes?” she answers, a little unsure. “Probably. I don’t actually remember.”

Conner comes up from behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. “Enjoying yourselves?” 

She tilts her head to kiss him on his cheek continuously and smiles. “Always.” 

You avert your gaze. 

“It’s good to see you again,” Conner addresses you after they’ve had their fill of small pecks. Honestly, you don’t blame them for being so affectionate and in love. It wasn’t that long ago that the two finally decided to give each other another chance after a falling out that Megan still doesn’t want to talk about. And again, you don’t blame her. You don’t want to talk about the reason why you and your ex broke up either, let alone think about it. 

You hum and reluctantly move your gaze back to their interlocked embrace. You manage a smile. “Same to you. Been a while hasn’t it?” 

Before he can reply, Gar interrupts with a call of their names. He’s standing near the fireplace with Bart, leaning over something. “Come check this out!”

Megan wiggles out of Conner’s hold and instead grabs his hand to lead him towards the boys. “Don’t go anywhere!”

Conner flashes an exasperated glance at you over his shoulder, which you return, before he wraps his arms around Megan again—the two laughing and joking about who knows what as they close the distance between them and the boys.

Sighing, you take another sip of the eggnog and your face scrunches in response to the liquid coating your tongue. “Bleh.”

“Fell victim to the spiked eggnog, I see,” a voice cuts through your thoughts as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Eyes snap up to meet the familiar, amused gaze of Dick. “Uh, yeah.”

He offers you a different mug and you eye it suspiciously. He chuckles. “It’s just apple cider, I promise.”

You reluctantly relent, taking the mug he offers as he takes the one you had been drinking. You take a sip, and surprisingly enough, it really is apple cider, no alcohol at all. “Oh, god, thank you.”

He flashes you a pearly smile, and takes a sip of the eggnog without grimacing. “So, how did you meet Megan and Conner?”

“Oh, um, from school. We went to the same high school.” He quirks an eyebrow. “I was a year below them, but I became friends with Megan when she joined the cheerleading team. My friendship with Conner just followed naturally after that.”

His eyes brighten, as if what you’re saying is actually interesting. “Really?”

You curl a piece of loose hair behind your ear. “Uh, yeah. What about you? How did you meet them?”

“Oh, through our families,” he supplies, a little detached, as if it weren’t really important. “Most of us met like that.”

You frown, but try to hide it behind the rim of the mug. “Wow. Then you must’ve known Megan for quite some time, then?”

His eyes flicker to your lips and his turn upwards. “Actually, I’ve probably known her for about the same amount of time as you.”

Wait. If that's true…“Does that mean you went to the Halloween disaster of 2016?” You remember Megan telling you she would be inviting her friends to the dance, and you heard that she did. Maybe he was among them?

He snorts. “Is that what they’re calling it?” You nod eagerly, hoping to hear his side of what happened that night.

“No.” You deflate, and he huffs a laugh. “I wasn’t able to go, had plans that night. Did you?”

You pout, the disappointment you felt at missing that night coming to mind. “Unfortunately, no. I was sick, but I heard from Marvin and the others that it was a night to remember.”

You don’t get to ask him more questions because as soon as you open your mouth, the front door opens to reveal a beautiful girl with dark, raven hair in delicate waves and bright blue eyes entering the room. Immediately, everyone (excluding you, Marvin and Wendy—wtf Karen?) recognizes her and greet her with a loud exclaim of her name, “Zatanna!”

Dick turns to you and you already know that he’s about to excuse himself. “Do you mind if—“ 

You shake your head interrupting him with, “No, no, go ahead.”

Surprisingly, he reaches for your arm and squeezes gently. “I’ll be right back.”

You blink after him and mutter, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Be right back” doesn’t happen. He stays by the pretty girl’s side, the two of them being overly familiar with one another—tight hugs, continuous small touches, long eye contact, leaning against one another. You wouldn’t be surprised if they dated at some point, to be honest; or maybe they are dating—ugh. Why does the thought of it bother you?

“You all right?” Wendy softly asks, her kind eyes full of worry and briefly moving to Karen by the entrance.

What’s that about?

You try to keep from frowning. “I think I just need some fresh air,” you assure her.

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

“No, I’ll be fine. I’ll just be out for a moment, besides—“ you flick your eyes to Marvin by the dessert table stuffing his face with walnut bread—“I think you’d better stay to make sure Marvin doesn’t eat all the walnut bread.”

“Oh—damn it, Marvin!” She sighs ready to chastise her boyfriend, but she pauses to look at you. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

You hum in agreement and watch as she saunters over to Marvin before turning on your heels and stepping out through the sliding doors leading to the balcony.

The cold winter air bites your skin, your long sleeved turtleneck not enough to combat the cold, but just thinking about going back inside makes you try to suck it up. You cover your mouth with your sleeve as you lean against the railing—Happy Harbor lights glinting brightly in the dark. 

Maybe you should leave. You’ve been here a good amount of time to deem acceptable, right? You’ve met some of Megan’s friends and even talked to a few of them for a while, and you didn’t show an ounce of disgruntlement—as far as you know—so you should be good right?

An ache fills your chest, pulsing slowly as you let out a long sigh. God, what happened to you? You weren’t always like this. So closed off and unwilling to spend time with your friends. You’ve practically been unconsciously ignoring Karen and Mal, attaching yourself to Megan when she is alone, or staying with Marvin and Wendy because they act least like a couple compared to your old classmates. And the moment the one person you’ve talked to for an extended period of time at the party joins his pretty friend, you become bitter about it! 

You need help.

Something heavy lands on your shoulders and back, strong cologne filling your nostrils and making you jump.

“Woah, easy, it’s just me.”

Startling blue eyes twinkle with mischief and your shoulders drop, heat combatting the cold air. “Anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on people?”

He just grins and settles in the space beside you, eyes sweeping over the town you grew up in. “My job kind of requires that I do.”

You slip your arms through the sleeves of his coat, ignoring the fact that it’s not exactly your size. It’s warm anyway. “Thank you.” You lean forward, tightening the coat to fit you snuggly. “What kind of job requires you to have ninja like stealth?”

He chuckles, meeting your gaze. “I’m an officer at Bludhaven PD, trying to become detective.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Bludhaven? Really?”

He hums, elbow resting on the railing and cupping his cheek.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Gotham has its norierty, but so does Bludhaven. It was basically untapped, scandals and crimes hidden behind a veil created by corrupt officials, until a couple of years ago when it all came to light with Nightwing’s arrival.

“Yeah,” he drawls, mulling it over, “but what isn’t? Anything can be dangerous if you think about it.” He leans closer to you. “Where do you work?”

“Happy Harbour Times, Opinions.”

“Then you must have to deal with a lot of angry readers when you write about something they don’t agree with, right? Threats and angry phone calls and letters. Those can be dangerous, too, right?” he asks cheekily.

You laugh, ducking your head. “I guess you’re right.” There’s still no comparing writing articles to police work, no matter how light of a situation Dick is trying to make it. “Why police work, though? It’s not many people’s first choice. Especially in Bludhaven.”

He shrugs. “Always been interested, I guess.” He leans back, hands holding onto the railing and causing his blue cable knit sweater to wrap tightly around his arm muscles. “My guardian…” Now, that’s an interesting choice of words. “He was—is a fan of mysteries.” His voice is far off, stuck in his jar of memories. “When he took me in, we’d used to solve cases together, most of them taking place in Gotham, where I was raised.” He chuckles. “And I guess from there I just… I just decided I wanted to be a cop.”

“I see... And you decided not to become a cop in Gotham?”

“Gotham has good people looking out for her already.”

“She could always use more.” He cracks a smile, blue eyes twinkling with the city lights as they find yours, and you return it shyly. “But I get it. Bludhaven has become yours, in a way. Separate from your… guardian.”

“In a way,” he repeats, and you have to look away from or else your heart will stop. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

He nudged your shoulder with his. “Happy Harbour Times?”

“Ah.” Your breath comes out in a puff, the night air still growing colder by the hour, but you don’t mind it. Dick doesn’t seem to mind either. “Well, when I was a kid, my third grade teacher told my parents I was a really good writer. So, they got me into workshops and short story competitions,” you recall, remembering the constant competitions your parents would sign you up for without your knowledge sometimes. They did it with good intentions, hoping to help hone your skill, but it was too much sometimes. “Truth is, I hated it. Never really liked… fiction, I guess? Don’t get me wrong, give me a good fiction novel and I will read it for days, but… it… it just wasn’t me,” you confess locking your fingers in place. 

“I was about ready to give up on writing when my tenth grade English teacher assigned us a topic to write about and I guess I fell in love with the research and being able to go out and interview people.”

“Yeah? And what was it that you wrote about?”

You bite your lip and find Dick staring at you, a curious glimmer in his eyes. “Don’t laugh?” He promises he won’t. “Robin.”

He chokes on his saliva, eyes growing in disbelief. “As in Batman’s Robin?”

You tuck strands of hair behind your ear, refusing to meet his gaze. “Yeah, um, the prompt was about vigilantes and I chose to write about him instead of the Flash, Batman, Wonder Woman and whoever else everyone wrote about.”

“Why?”

You shrug, trying your best to mask your embarrassment with a blase attitude. “Fighting crime with Batman? That was pretty cool, you know? He was living every kid’s dream.”

“Was he?” he asks, voice soft.

“He was!” you confess, smile blooming on your face as a memory of you and your friends playing as the superhero sidekicks comes to mind. It’s some of your best memories from elementary school. “But I didn’t want to just write about the good. He was a kid seeing some fucked up shit, after all.” You pause to look at him, only to find he’s not looking at you, but at the city lights. There’s something… wistful and forlorn in those blue eyes of his, and you wonder if he’s thinking back on his time in Gotham, seeing Boy Wonder up close and personal. “Being Robin must’ve taken its toll on him, both mentally and physically. 

“And I wanted to write about that. Even had my parents drive up to Gotham for the weekend so I could do some snooping, maybe even find Boy Wonder myself.”

Finally he reacts, lips twitching as he turns to look at you. “And how’d that go?”

“I learned that the citizens of Gotham really hate being asked questions.” He chuckles and you smile. “But those who did answer... you can tell they were grateful for him and worried about him. The kid really touched people’s hearts, whether they agreed with his nightly activities with Batman or not.” You tilt your head, watching his eyes light up with your words. “It’s just a shame I didn’t get to interview Robin himself.” You grab hold of the railing and lean forward. “But I’d doubt he’d have given me the time of day if I had gotten the chance to ask him. Probably too busy saving babies and punching villains with Batman.”

“I’m sure he would have made time for you.” Your fingers slip from the metal to turn to look at him, unsure of his sincerity. “How could he not?” His cheeks have become flushed with the cold, nose bright and blue eyes stark against his skin.

You smile, but you’re sure it looks more like an awkward grimace. “You’re just saying that.” 

“I’m not.” He frowns, sincere eyes knocking your breath away. “I know if he knew someone as sincere as you wanted to ask him some questions for their article, he would have dropped whatever he was doing to help you.”

You don’t know why you stand there, waiting for him to laugh in your face and say his punchline. You don’t know why he just stands there and stares back at you, quiet and shining with sincerity that he’s trying to penetrate into your being. It’s weird and totally unnecessary, but maybe a part of you is desperate to know if he’s really being sincere and a part of him is desperate for you to know he is.

“Hey!” Megan’s voice break through the trance you’re both in. Her head barely poking out into the cold and green eyes narrowing. “Get in here before you both catch something!”

Dick chuckles, attention moving from her to you. “Should we head in?”

You nod mutely, smiling tight lipped.

As you follow Megan inside, the only thing on your mind is that you might have already caught something.

Bludhaven

December 15, 2020

“You’re really not coming home for the Holidays this year?”

Megan is pouting on your computer screen, but you hardly pay her any attention. You have an article on Bludhaven’s growing homelessness due in the morning and you still have some revisions to do. Your little mishap earlier today took time that you were reserving for this article and now you’re running behind.

“‘Fraid not,” you tell her, your voice accompanied by the clicking of your keyboard. “I’ve been overloaded with a ridiculous amount of work this month and I need to get it done before the end of the year.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see her scavenging through boxes of decorations. “Won’t your mom be disappointed you won’t be coming home?”

“Nope,” you pop the “p” as you rewrite a fragment. “She’s coming down to see me instead.”

She stops, head lifting like a prairie dog on alert. “So it’s just going to be you two this year?”

“Maybe. Dick said he might stop by, but he’s not sure.”

“Ooh,” her teasing rings through your quiet bedroom and you roll your eyes.

“It’s not like that, Megan.” You wished it were like that, but it’s not, and maybe it’s for the best. Dick became one of your good friends since the party last year and one of your best friends after you volunteered for a transfer to Bludhaven’s Times earlier this year. You don’t want to mess with what you have, not right now when your life feels perfectly balanced.

“Don't let the person who didn't love you keep you from the person who will,” she says, sounding serious as hell and making you snort and pause in your typing. “Hey! Don’t laugh at my words of wisdom!”

“This has nothing to do with them, Megan. When I said I was finally over them, I meant it.” The moment you were able to look at an old tagged picture of you and them on their friends’ Instagram and you felt nothing, no numbness, no anger nor sadness, just a strange vagueness as if they were a stranger, you knew you were over them. “Dick and I… we like where we are.”

“Boo.”

Conner appear on screen and shakes his head as he wraps his arm around her shoulder. “Don’t listen to her. I respect your decision.”

She rolls her eyes, playfully pushing his head out of the screen. “I respect your decision too, doesn’t mean I agree with it.”

“Heckling does not equate respect, babe.”

You laugh at their antics, their displays of affections no longer bothering you. Now, when you see them you just feel happy, happy for them and for you. Bitterness long gone from your bones, and there’s one person you can thank for that.

Your phone on your desk dings.

Dick 🥳🤩: Chinese food 2nite?

You: only if you promise to get extra egg rolls 

Dick 🥳🤩: Got’chu, omw.

“You’re smiling! Why are you smiling? It’s Dick, isn’t it? It’s totally Dick.”

You roll your eyes, trying to keep your face neutral but knowing you’re doing horribly at it. “I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait, is he coming over?” She gushes, and Conner is back on screen, trying to wrestle the phone out of her grip.

You laugh when you hear a curse from Conner. “I have an article to finish, Megan.”

“You can’t just leave me hanging like this—“

All right, you’ve had enough. “Bye, Megan!”

Megan🧡: 😨 You hung up on me?

Megan🧡: 😡😡

Megan🧡: Expecting deets tomorrow ❤️

You: goodnight, megan!

It doesn’t take long for Dick to arrive and for you to shove your article aside—you’re almost done with it anyway, nothing wrong with a little break.

The door jingles and as you begin to clear your coffee table—where you and Dick usually eat dinner—of your paperwork, it opens to reveal Dick still wearing his uniform. You smile up at him briefly, gathering everything and taking it over to your round, small dining table that could probably fit four people if you really tried to squeeze them in. “Hey! Let me just grab some plates and we can—“

Before you can finish your sentence, or head into the kitchen, a hand wraps around your wrist, worried crystallized blue eyes staring into you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were almost mugged?”

Ah, hell. 

The crack in his voice makes your heart drop to your stomach and your eyes fall down to his ugly black shoes that you make fun of every chance you get just to hear his laugh. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Which isn’t a lie. Since you moved to Bludhaven, Dick has been checking up on you more often and even picking you up from work if he has the chance—“Bludhaven isn’t like Happy Harbor. It’s… tougher and harder,” he had said after offering to teach you some self defense moves. You had laughed and said you could handle yourself, but accepted it anyway if it meant spending more time with him.

Today was just bad luck, he was on the other side of the city and you had chosen to take the bus to work that day and hadn’t been paying attention. Next thing you know, you’re being threatened to give your purse up.

His warm fingers leave your wrist and instead they find your chin. Gingerly, he lifts your head to force you to meet his gaze. “When Rohrbach called me on my way here to check up on you because she was worried, I swear my heart almost stopped.” His eyes shine with worry and there’s a twisting in your gut. “What if Louie hadn’t been nearby, huh?”

“I’m okay, Dick,” you reassure him, wanting nothing more than to lean against him, maybe have his lips press a kiss on your forehead. “I handled him pretty well. Used those self defense moves you taught me.” It was why you were able to shake him off and run to the nearest officer for help. Dick inadvertently saved you.

He finally smiles. “Yeah, Rohrbach said you left him pretty bruised up.” His hand under your chin moves to smooth out your hair before cupping the back of your head and pressing you against him. “I need you to be more careful, sweetheart. Need you to be safe.”

Your heart bursts in your chest at the pet-name and you wrap your arms around his waist, fisting the jacket of his uniform tightly. His cologne makes you dizzy—ginger and spices for the holiday. “Only if you promise to stay safe, too.”

“I’ll do my best.” His soft lips land on your forehead briefly before he’s pulling away and you restrain yourself from chasing after him. “Let’s eat? You must be starving.”

“A little,” you admit, and let him pull you toward the couch. “Eating out of the cartons today?”

He flashes you a grin. “Why not?”

As you both settle next to each other on the floor, back being supported by your old couch and you turn on your television as he pulls out the food he bought, you can’t help but think that even if your relationship stay like this with Dick, you wouldn’t mind it.

Bludhaven

December 31, 2020

You check your watch for the umptenth time.

He’s late.

Everyone around you is celebrating, filling the bar with laughter and talk, most of it incoherent over the loud music and the inebriated state most of them are in. You’re only a few hours away from the New Year and people are already drunk out of their minds—this doesn’t spell trouble for the night whatsoever.

Dick 🥳🤩 (7)

7 outgoing calls, all unanswered and completely unlike him. Sure, sometimes he doesn’t answer your calls when he’s busy, that’s a given, but he always sends you a message if he’s going to be late or apologizes for not being able to answer your call. This just not like Dick. 

You try calling one more time, covering one ear with your palm  to hear the ringing, but just like before, you get sent to voicemail. Worry begins to over take your annoyance. You grab your bag and quickly make your way out of the crowded bar, not caring about the warm bodies complaining.

Driving to his place takes you about thirty minutes with traffic, and you occasionally find yourself cursing at other drivers and yourself. It’s a miracle you don’t get into an accident or pulled over. With his garage key that he gave you, you open the gate and make your way to the space that has become yours over the last couple of months with how much you visit him. 

Locking your car with a simple click of the key fob, you power walk to the elevator. One last time, you try calling him, hoping he’ll answer and apologize for being late, but once again it sends you to voicemail just as the elevator doors open on his floor. 

“Please be okay,” you whisper to yourself.

Taking out your copy of the key, you slowly insert it and tentatively call out to him as you open the door.

No answer.

You strain your hearing as you swear you hear some shuffling and thumping, but that noise could just be coming from down the hall. He does have some noisy neighbors. 

You enter the apartment and close the door behind you. “Dick?”

There’s a crash and you jump, your heart in your throat, but the familiar string of curses eases your fear. You follow the noise and come face to face with a wide eyed Dick shirtless covered in nasty forming bruises in the middle of his bathroom.

A whimper escapes your lips and you rush forward, cupping his face in your hand. “What the hell happened to you? I thought you managed to get the night off?” You turn his head this way and that, and then push him back by grabbing his shoulder to look at his torso and back. Only letting go when he winces at a particularly hard tug. “Oh shit! I’m sorry!”

He grabs your wrists not allowing you to give him space. “You’re not blushing,” he says cheekily, his eyes twinkling even with the slowly forming bruise.

Your eyebrows furrow. “Why would I be—“ Your eyes drag down to his naked torso peppered with old wounds and spanking brand new bruises and you immediately feel a wave of heat spreading through your body. “Oh.”

He laughs softly, chuckling almost, low and a sweet timbre. 

But when your eyes fall lower, you’re doused in cold water, black, almost skin tight material—unitard?—and a black holster wrapped around his right leg greeting you. This isn’t his police uniform! What is he wearing? And why does it look like kevlar? “Why are you—“

You’re not allowed a moment to ask because Dick pulls you towards him with a tug of your wrists and you fall against his chest, barely bracing yourself as he wraps his arms around your waist, large hands flat against your back.

“Dick?”

“I’m okay,” he murmurs airily into your hair and you don’t know what to do, you’re pretty sure he can feel and hear your pacing heart. 

You repeat his name, trying to pull away from him to look into his eyes. He doesn’t let you. 

He inhales. “Just give me a moment and I’ll answer any questions you might have.”

You sigh, warm air brushing against his bare skin, and the hands that braced yourself on the kitchen sink wrap around his torso loosely. “What happened?”

Circles are traced on your shirt, one hand climbing higher to cradle the back of your head. “Remember the guy who tried to rob you?” You nod and hum, remembering that crooked nosed, pale skin idiot who thought you’d be an easy target. “He escaped during transfer today with the help of some of his friends, and I went after them. Off record.”

You pull away from him and look up at him with wide eyes and slack jaw to find his serious gaze on you, lips pulled down into a thin line. “What do you mean off record?” Your throat closes and the back of your nose stings—he went after them ‘cause that man tried hurting you? “Dick, what if something happened—”

His eyes bore into you and his thumb find purchase on your face, tracing the curve of your cheekbone. “It's just a couple of scratches and bruises. I’m okay. I promise.”

You blink back your tears and lean into his touch. “You still shouldn’t have gone by yourself!”

“I didn’t,” he says softly. “I went with a friend.”

Your nose scrunches, your eyes still watery. “Rohrbach?”

He shakes his head. “No. Better, Robin.”

“Robin?” You try to remember if he’s ever mentioned anyone named Robin at the precinct, but you’re pretty sure he hasn’t—“Wait. Robin? As in Batman’s Robin?” His gaze doesn’t change, it remains serious and your heart leaps in your chest. “You really know Robin?”

He finally cracks a smile and you’re half expecting him to say he’s joking (you don’t know which is worse, him joking about knowing Robin when he’s aware how much admiration teen you had for him or finding out that he really went after that thug and his friends on his own!), but instead he answers with a simple, “Yeah.”

“Dick, if you’re—“

He chuckles, his thumb that had been tracing your cheekbone dragging down to your bottom lip, slowly tracing the swell. You would have melted if there weren’t more pressing matters at hand. “I’m not playing with you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fall to his torso and down to his pants and the hanging arms of his unitard and they snap back up, alarmed. “Are you—does this mean you’re also a—“ you can’t even form a proper sentence, the rushing of your blood flowing through your head and ears drown out your thoughts and voice.

His hands drop from your frame and you take a step back as he adjusts the unitard, slipping into it only to have you gasping at the familiar symbol on his chest—Nightwing.

Without waiting for his permission, your fingers trace the symbol, the material under your fingers soft and somehow firm. A deep ache blooms in your chest, your nose wrinkling and Dick reacts quickly, cupping your face with his now covered hands, and you’d laugh any other time at the fact that his suit is falling forward and down his arms, but you’re too busy trying to keep yourself from crying.

It all makes sense now! His double shifts and all the injuries—gods. How could you have been so blind?

He rubs the corner of your eyes and coos gently, worry swimming in his eyes and honestly, that’s not fair! You’re the only one allowed to be worried right now! “Hey, hey, why are you crying, huh? What’s wrong?”

Your head falls forward and Dick leans down to press his forehead against yours. “This isn’t going to make me worry less about you, Dick.” Your fingers wrap around his thick forearms. “You promised you were going to try staying safe and this,” you pause to sigh, refusing to meet his eyes, ”this isn’t going to keep you safe.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the space between you. “I’m sorry I’m going to make you worry. I’m sorry I’m making you cry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you say with a sniffle, because it doesn’t. You don’t care that he didn’t tell you he was Nightwing or that he allowed you to gush about Robin when he’s always known who that is. What matters is that now you know Dick is out every night as Nightwing risking his life and you’re not happy about that. That’s what matters.

“But I won’t break my promise.” You squeeze his arm. “I promised you I would try, and ever since that night, I’ve done my best to keep to that, and I always will.” His nose bumps against yours, trying to get you to look at you and you do, suddenly aware of the lack of space between you. “I have someone to come home to now.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and your heart pounds against your rib cage. You’re no longer okay being just friends with Dick, not when he says things like that and when he’s looking at you like this either—like you’re the only thing that matters and all he wants is to keep you trapped in his arms (you wouldn’t fight him if he tried).

Before you can voice anything, coherent or incoherent, your mouth is sealed shut by a paid of chapped lips. It’s a small peck, but it’s enough to send a tumble of acrobats into a frenzy. And all you want is to feel his lips against yours again, and so you meet him halfway after a shallow collection of breath.

Lips move in tandem, heads tilting this way and that and it’s all very much like the passionate romcom movie kisses you’ve seen over the years, the kind you’d dream about every time Dick would kiss different parts of your face and never your lips. It’s all fire and sweetness, like fireworks on a hot summers’ day and watermelon juice dripping down your chin.

A loud boom echoes in the quiet night and you jerk away from Dick, eyes snapping to his bedroom entrance, the windows covered with blinds allowing the bright flashes of light to filter in.

“Did we miss the countdown?” you find yourself asking dumbly, a little breathless and mind still reeling from his intense kiss.

He presses another one to your temple, chuckling. “Does it matter?”

“It’s the New Year!” 

“Could really care less,” he grumbles, voice coming from deep in his chest as his lips dragging from the corner of your eyes to your lips, pulling you away from the firework show outside. “Too busy trying to make out with my gorgeous girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” you tease in between kisses.

“Mhmm, have been trying to make her mine for a couple of months now, but she’s pretty clueless. ‘S supposed to be one of the best reporters in all of the tri state area, too.”

“Should’ve said something, Dick. I’m not a mind reader.”

He chuckles, pulling away from your lips for just a moment. “There’s something else you should know.”

“What?” you ask, a little hazily.

“I was Robin.”

And before you can ask him to elaborate on that or you’re allowed to be embarrassed, he closes the distance between you once more and kisses you senseless.

To think you thought you’d regret going to Megan’s a little over a year ago; if only the you from then could see you now, happy and moved on.

[calpalirwin]

B.U.B

Summary: Everyone got more than they bargained for when Ashton started dating Sam.

A/N: Ugh, this is such a bittersweet moment. The official end of my brain child with @creator-appreciator​ and our new trope: back up boyfriend (BUB). But what an appropriate note to end on: a wedding! If you haven’t read it, or need a refresher, be sure to catch all 5 previous parts of BUB under the miscellaneous portion of my masterlist!

Disclaimer: Not a poly!sos series!

Content: General bub tom-foolery wedding edition!

Word Count: 2k on the nose!

And away, and away we go!

__

Part 6

“Lazy day?” Ashton asked from his spot on the couch next to Calum when Sam came downstairs in leggings and a tank top.

“Nope!” she grinned at him. “Going dress shopping with the bubs and the girls.”

“Is it really a bub outing if I’m not there?” Calum asked.

“Wait, you’re not going?” Ashton asked, looking over at his friend. “What are you doing here, then?”

“Misery loves company?”

“Oh, you are not miserable!” Sam scoffed. “You’re just pouting because I told you you can’t come.”

“I don’t pout. I just find it unfair that you banished me from a bub activity.”

“It’s not a bub activity. It’s a wedding party activity. Of which, you are not technically a part of.”

“Princess, you’re forgetting a crucial piece of intel. And it’s that I am the party.”

“You’re still not coming, bub.”

Calum narrowed his eyes at her. “Have fun talking Luke out of glitter.”

“Have fun not knowing what the dress looks like,” she taunted back. Sam swiftly pressed a kiss to Calum’s cheek before kissing Ashton. “Have a good day, boys.”

“Bye, baby. Have fun,” Ashton told her while Calum sunk lower in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

~~~

“So, these are the colors,” Sam explained, pictures spread across the kitchen table, everybody listening intently. “The girls got their dresses and they are stunning! But all four of you still need to go get your tuxes. And when you do, take this color! This is the color!” She held up the photo in question, looking around at who she trusted most to hold on to it.

“I got it,” Calum said, snatching the picture out of her fingers. “Is there a different color you want Ash’s? Or mine for that matter?”

“No. Same color’s fine for you and Fletch too.”

“You don’t want him to match your dress?”

“Oh, her dress is beautiful!” Luke teased, seeing his opportunity and taking it. “Makes her look like a princess, Cal.”

“A queen, dumbass…” Michael sighed.

“Whatever. Point is, it’s a beautiful dress, and she looks amazing in it!”

“If you’re not this excited when we get married, I’m leaving you at the altar,” Sierra teased.

“You should leave him now,” everyone joked.

“Hey!”

“Oh! And Fletch! The flowers. Can you give this to Bryce down at the shop?”

“Yeah, I’ll give it to him next time I see him.”

“Good, good. And when is your family getting here?”

“Not til like the week of the wedding, wh- oh shit, Harry’s suit. Uh, I’ll tell him to go to a tailor to get his measurements and I’ll bring that with me when we all go get fitted.”

“Which you’re doing when?”

“When would you like us to do that, baby?”

Sam grinned, “You're so smart sometimes, Fletch. Can you guys go soon? Like next week?”

“You got it,” the boys saluted her. “Anything else?”

~~~

“Fletch!” Sam hollered from the backyard.

“What?!” Ashton asked, running to her, only to find her sitting beside the garden he’d been planting. “What are you doing?” he giggled.

“Trying to teach myself how to garden,” she stated.

“Mhm… why?”

“Because, Fletch!”

“Do you need help?”

“Yes! None of this makes sense!”

“What do you mean it doesn’t make sense?” he giggled again, coming to sit beside her.

“This!” She flashed the packet of flower seeds in her hand. “Plant in the warm season. What does that even mean? It’s California! It’s always warm season!”

“Why is this something you want to do?”

“Because it’s something you like doing, and I thought I would surprise you by doing it with you.”

“Aww! You don’t have to.”

“But I want to! It can be our thing!”

“So, if I take you to Home Depot right now, we can put some gardening stuff I’ve wanted on our wedding registry?” Ashton asked hopefully.

“Who needs fancy china anyway?”

“God, you’re the best! Okay, let’s go.”

“Wait!”

“What?”

“Call the guys. We might need help.”

A half hour later Sam was talking the ear off of a Home Depot employee. “So he wants to plant like real stuff. Like tomatoes, you know? But I think other stuff would look really good too. Like regular flowers and such. So, my question to you, is what would be the best things to plant if we were going to plant them, say, later this afternoon? What would we need?”

“Uh… I can show you what’s popular?” the clerk offered, either feeling completely out of their element or intimidated by the woman with all her questions and posse of 4 giant Aussie men.

“Lead the way!” Sam chirped.

“Oh, um, you wouldn’t happen to have those scanners for wedding registries, would you?” Ashton put in as they all started walking across the store to the garden section.

“You want to register for your wedding at Home Depot, sir?”

“Yes, please.”

“You don’t want to register at IKEA, or like a Target?”

“Nope! You guys got some great stuff here.”

“Okay…”

The wedding registry aspect of it proved to be useless as anything Ashton scanned, Calum, Luke, or Michael immediately grabbed with a “What? I want one too…”

“So, this is probably a crazy question, but c-can I be invited to your wedding? Like… nobody's going to believe me that this happened. That a couple registered here. I just… I gotta see what type of wedding would be thrown by people who register at Home frickin’ Depot,” the clerk asked as they rang everything up.

Sam hummed as she dug around in her purse, pulling out a small card and handing it over. “Yeah! Of course! I didn’t end up liking this design, but it’s got all the important information on it, so I hope this’ll do.”

“Holy crap, thank you!”

“Of course! Thanks for dealing with us.”

“You just carry invitations around in your purse?” Ashton asked Sam.

“You don’t?”

“I don’t have a purse… I have pockets.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Just help the bubs.”

~~~

“Okay, my bachelor party and your bachelorette party,” Ashton started. “How do you want to do this? Cuz I know I have groomswomen, but I want my boys there too. And I imagine you probably want the same thing of wanting your bubs and your girls. So… separate weekends or joint party?”

“Joint party would just be a regular hang out.”

“Yeah but like… in a cabin in the mountains. Away from everything. Or separate weekends. You get everyone to do your thing with. Then I get everyone to do my thing.”

“But then we don’t get each other. And with a joint party we do.”

“I think the point of bachelor and bachelorette parties is so that way we’re not around each other, baby.”

“Then why’d you suggest a joint party, Fletch?”

“I didn’t. I was just laying out all the options.”

“Mhm… sure. A likely story.”

“Okay, I might be hoping that you pick a joint party because I think that’d be fun. A nice getaway with my closest friends and future wife. What could be better than that?”

“You do make a pretty good case.”

“So, joint party?”

“Joint party!”

The end of the month found the eight friends and Harry standing around in a cabin. “First order of business!” Sam declared. “Room assignments. Ashton and I get the master room. The rest are up for grabs. Second order of business! Once you find your room, come back with all the blankets and pillows so we can make our fort.”

“A fort?” Harry snickered. “What are you, twelve?”

“Aw, c’mon,” Ashton nudged his kid brother. “You’ve seen the pictures of our forts, haven’t you?”

“Oh, that’s like a for real thing? Thought it was a joke.”

“Fort Luke Sucks Balls is most certainly real. And for this weekend, you are an honorary member,” Sam told him with a bright smile.

“Uh… thanks? I think?”

~~~

“Mike… you were right,” Luke breathed as Sam turned around in her dress. “You do look like a queen, sweetheart.”

Sam blushed. “Thanks, partner.”

“You saw her try it on in the store last week,” Michael told Luke. “Idiot…”

“Well, yeah! But not with her hair all done up, and make up.”

“You’re right. Still an idiot, but you’re right. Wanna make a bet for when Ash starts crying?”

“Hmm…” Luke thought. “Tears up when she walks down the aisle, full on sobbing through his vows.”

“Oh, definitely with you on him tearing up when she comes down the aisle. But I’m betting he just does that thing where he clears his throat a lot rather than the blubbering during the vows.”

“Alright. So if I win, we have to change Fort Luke Sucks Balls.”

“And when you lose, a name change can never be proposed again by you.”

“Deal.”

The blondes shook hands to cement the agreement, each one certain they’d win while Sam rolled her eyes. A bet the was rendered null and void when Ashton A.) teared up when Sam came down the aisle, and B.) cleared his throat a grand total of 107 times (Michael counted) before quietly breaking down during Sam’s vows.

“I now pronounce you Hubasaurus Fletch, and Wifeysaurus Babe,” Calum announced. “Now kiss your bride before you start crying again.”

Ashton gave a half sobbed laugh, before cupping Sam’s face in his hands and ducking his head down to give her the world’s most heartfelt kiss.

~~~

“Alright,” Calum said into a microphone, getting the toasts started. “Hi, everyone, I’m Calum Hood. The wedding officiant, and only guest speaker for this evening.”

“The sensation!” Michael called out loudly, his hands cupped around his mouth.

“The bodacious!” Luke joined in.

“Ccccccaaaaaalllllllluuuuummmmmmm Hhhhhooooooooooooodddddd!” the group of friends all whooped, drumming their hands on the table.

“Okay, thank you!” Calum said with a squishy cheeked grin. “So, as you can imagine we all love Ashton and Sam so much. And when deciding this part of the night, we all wanted a chance to say something. But, we ultimately decided that a lot of our stories would overlap and that it would be too long, so I’m doing it on behalf of all of us. So, it goes without saying Ash, that you’re like a big brother to us guys. I don’t think it’s a stretch of the imagination to say that we wouldn’t be the people we are without you in our lives. And we’ll never be able to thank you enough for accepting a random Facebook message from a kid you didn’t know and helping us become what we are. And then there’s Princess Sam. Sorry, Queen Sam. I have never been happier to be proved wrong in my entire life. I’ve never been happier to have been wrong about thinking you were just some girl that wouldn’t matter in a couple of months. And I deeply apologize for everything I did in those first few months. In these last 5 years I’ve gotten to know you, it’s very easy to see the woman that stole my best friend’s heart. Because you stole all of ours too. And if I say anything else, I’m gonna end up like Ash here, so I’ll just end this by saying that I’ll forever be grateful that you two found each other, because it’s been nothing short of incredible. Here’s to the best years.”

Calum raised his glass, everyone else following suit, while Luke and Michael hopped up on stage next to Calum. Michael grabbed the microphone out of Calum’s hands while Luke got situated with a guitar. “Perfect toast for a perfect couple, Cal. And perfect segway into the newly announced Mr. and Mrs. Ashton Irwin’s first dance! Hit it, Luke!”

While Luke started strumming the opening chords to Best Years, Ashton led Sam out to the dance floor, spinning her in a slow circle before pulling her close. “I love you so much, baby,” he whispered for only her to hear.

“I love you too, Fletch. So fuckin’ much.”

__

Tag List

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[its-jijii]

chuuya’s masculinity

i was talking to hannah and thinking about the whole chuuya feminine/masculine debate and decided its time to write an essay on this. i have been waiting for the opportunity. and now my thoughts are gathered, so prepare for a mildly frustrated tangent abt the portrayal of chuuya in canon and in fan-made things.

i think that there are a lot of factors in play that influence how people see chuuya, the main one being canon content of course. in the manga, i do not get the vibe that he is feminine or weak in any way; in fact, he’s very aggressive and his stance indicates that he does not intend to be viewed as less. i will agree that the anime portrays him as more feminine: he has a higher pitched voice, and he is short. 

my problem with this is both the people who take that as being feminine, and the people who try to say chuuya is not feminine or weak. i don’t enjoy seeing chuuya in dresses not because i view it as feminine and therefore weak- rather, the circumstances of the source that makes me dislike it. for instance, primarily when he is drawn in dresses, he is clearly annoyed and doesn’t like it. i believe that to be because despite his “feminine” body type, his personality is very masculine. the way he acts and speaks does not imply that he is weak or feminine in any way.

my thought process isn’t dress = feminine = weak, so chuuya in a dress = weak, but in contrast, he is doing nothing about it. he is out of his comfort zone and obviously doesn’t enjoy it, yet he always seems compliant in wearing a dress. all of that is also usually for dazai’s entertainment, in some way. same thing when i see scenarios of them on an undercover mission together. one always dresses up like a girl, and that is usually chuuya. that is still because people equate his height and body type with girls, which makes sense to a certain degree, but one i still disagree with.

chuuya’s body type has almost nothing to do with being feminine, in my opinion. subconsciously people equate his height with femininity, which is not really the case. i don’t think they are necessarily equating his body with that of a girls and determining its weak. rather, they likely look at his height and body build and think “that’s weak.” that has no direct relation to being feminine, nor is it true. i think everyone knows he is far from weak, he is just never portrayed in the way he should be: masculine and dominant. 

his body type being feminine does not change the fact that he is strong and fit; his outfit doesn’t exactly show that off, so his features can be dumbed-down to long hair, cute face, and curves. this is completely disregarding his personality and actions, which annoys me considerably. in people there are often traits that are tied together- outgoing and dominant, quiet and submissive- and there are actions that tie into those categories, too. people on the quiet and introverted side tend to curl up and take up as little space as possible. extroverts assume a position that takes up more space (called power posing) 

“power posing” is a stance that indicates that the person is comfortable and confident. many times i have noted that despite chuuya being small, he does tend to stand in ways that take up more space. just from his body language, you can tell that he feels strong and in control. the art and scenarios of him unhappily sitting in a dress for someone else’s entertainment, but doing nothing to get out of the dress? that shows he is yielding to someone else, which is incredibly unlike him.

more chuuya in high power pose positions here lol

the reason i believe a lot of people think of chuuya as feminine ties into how he was introduced and how dazai treats him. upon his introduction in the dungeon, he is shown as a powerful and confident character. to me it seems that the first impression he made, which was asserting dominance and strength over dazai, was erased somewhere along the way. well, dazai happened to plot things out in advance, and later felt like he had the upper hand on chuuya. so despite chuuya’s strength and intentions, in the end he was rendered powerless by dazai. and to finish that off, he ended up pretending like he was a very feminine girl for dazai’s amusement.

his initially strong introduction was overwritten by the funny scene where chuuya acted like a girl. chuuya continues being masculine and dominant throughout the series, but oh so often is ending up following what dazai wants, or used as the object of dazai’s jokes. in the end, that rubs off on people so they think of him as less than dazai. his voice actor and the way he is animated likely ties in the thoughts of him being feminine, and when combined, people tend to think of him as either feminine, weak, or both.

it seems that no matter how this argument is presented, i find fault with it. even when people state that femininity =/= weakness, i feel that they are not presenting it right at all. i understand where they are coming from, but from my standpoint it isn’t as in depth as it should be (which i guess is why i’m writing this lol). maybe im overthinking things i accidentally analyze stuff and feel disappointed when people post unpopular opinions with nothing to back it up 😭

lastly, slight nsfw warning? (discussing top bottom stuff nothing explicit)

the entire top/bottom debate regarding soukoku also exhausts me. i believe chuuya to be a top, but again not because i equate being a bottom with being weak or submissive. power bottoms are a thing. however, i do acknowledge that there is a power difference between tops and bottoms- tops have considerably more control over the situation than bottoms do. and that is where i believe people have misconceived notions of whether he is a top or a bottom. on some level they do associate him with being a bottom, likely due to his size and believed inferiority to dazai. as dazai always seems to be ahead of chuuya, isn’t it only natural that dazai would be in control and would top?

w r o n g you can’t convince me dazai isn’t a lazy bottom, at best a switch. he does not seem like he would enjoy putting forth the required effort for topping. additionally, dazai himself isn’t exactly dominant or controlling. often he is relied on and respected, yes, but he only really tries to dominate and control chuuya as a way to harass him. chuuya on the other hand is outwardly dominant and likes being in control of a situation- and above all, hates doing what dazai wants. so even if chuuya was ever to bottom, no way in hell would i believe that he’d do it with dazai. he would not want to surrender control to him unless absolutely necessary.

additionally, i guess i just see chuuya as an active person. bottoms don’t seem to really do much,, they are on the receiving end of it all, so they often aren’t controlling the situation or moving around. it is hard for me to imagine chuuya to be the type to sit around and take something like that. it is much more reasonable to me to believe that he would rather be the one in control, and the one actually moving and doing things. if talking in the terms of soukoku, that seems doubled in my eyes. chuuya is far more physically capable than dazai, and likely has better stamina too. dazai would be one lousy top lol

thank u for reading! ive always thought about this, as there was a lot of art and fanfics that were the opposite of the impression i got from chuuya. to me, chuuya has always radiated big dick energy, top/dominant vibes, etc. i love chuuya and its not really a big surprise to me that my first post/analysis regarding him is talking about his masculinity haha. it’s always been a hot topic for me to think about and talk to my friends about.

i apologize for the lack of posting & original content rn ;; still con crunching for ota this weekend, and then i will be at the beach for a week. so i’ll probably just be reblogging art nd stuff when i can. hopefully ill get back to writing and posting normally after im not ultra mega busy. edit: forgot to say earlier but thank u for 200 followers! didn’t really expect anyone to care for my content but it means a lot to me

[cyberloops]

Didn’t have time to work on finalizing the edit for this over the weekend... tried to work on it a little this morning before I came in to work. I was a doofus and rendered it with half the tracks muted, and I didn’t have time to rerender it before I had to leave for work. D’oh. Odds are good I would have found something that needed fixing and would have had to rerender it anyway, but still.

Hopefully I’ll have it finished later today.

In the meantime, this is the link to the last draft... other than adding a slight filter to lessen the overtones from the main trumpet-like synth and doing a little EQ and dynamics (and this is one of the first time I’ve tried to actually do anything beyond bare bones basic EQ, so we’ll see how that turns out.) it won’t be too different. I didn’t actually change any of the instrumentation from that last draft.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 42

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Physical violence, smut, feelings, yeeeah.

A/N: First off let’s just acknowledge that I would be nothing without @wonderlandmind4​‘s support. Literally. Nothing. Like, she gets me y’all and just straight up deserves partial credit for literally the rest of this series for how she’s hyped, supported, brainstormed, and beta’d for me. Actual earth angel. Go love on her immediately. 

Ok. Now. Thank y’all for tolerating that teaser-ass chapter last time. I’m making it up now with this big(ish) boi. There’s a little bit of everything here and a lot of gearing them up for what’s to come. 

Also, y’all know me by now (hopefully), I live for feedback. Don’t care if you send it in an ask or add notes here or what. I just love hearing from y’all! 

Tags are open!

A metal left arm wraps around your throat applying enough pressure to be a problem. 

“Sloppy form today, baby doll,” Bucky purrs into your ear making you shiver despite the heavy spring heat.

“Get off me,” you croak. 

He releases you with a laugh. Lifting the hem of his white tank he wipes the sweat from his forehead revealing a taste of that defined and ridiculously enticing body. 

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip to keep your jaw from hanging open as you hunch over, hands resting on your knees. You were attempting to catch your breath, how dare he make it that much harder. 

“Enjoying the view?” He asks, a dark brow raised above a good-natured smirk. 

Reaching out with invisible hands you push him to the ground, pressing his shoulders down so he can’t immediately rise. You stride over to him, legs flanking his torso. 

“If I am?” You ask, staring down at him. 

Mischief sparks in his blue-grey eyes. “Couldn’t blame you I guess.” You adored him like this—confident, maybe even bordering on cocky, and above all, happy. 

He reaches up, taking hold of your knees he knocks you off balance sending you toward the ground too. Your power reacts faster than your mind, cushioning the fall so you land soundlessly sitting lightly on his chest. 

“Hmm…” His chest vibrates under you as his fingers hook into the waist of your leggings. “What if I just-” Without effort the stretch fabric gives way to his whim, tearing along the front seam and down the crotch.

“These are a problem too though,” he presses his fingers against your quickly dampening underwear. Holding your gaze he shrugs a little and with a tug, they’re in shreds too. 

Grabbing your hips he tugs you forward forcing you up on your knees before threading his arms under you. Bucky takes firm hold of your ass and lifts his head, placing a kiss against your pelvic bone. Desire floods your veins causing you to shiver. 

The look of hunger in his eyes sucks the breath from your lungs before his tongue even finds your clit. When he languidly tastes you all you manage is a low rasp, air sucking back into your chest. 

His lips and tongue tease you, strong fingers move from your ass to your thighs, gripping them tight. You tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him against you as your head falls back, your eyes closing against the blue of the sky. A rumble of satisfaction from him is felt beneath you rather than heard. In response your hips lift up, desperate and wanting. 

“Bucky,” you croon looking down at him. Playfully he nips at you eliciting a deep moan. He keeps up until your breath is ragged, your lashes flutter, and you take in a sharp breath. 

You’re on the razor edge of an orgasm when he stops cold. A second later you’re on your back, the grass tickling your neck. 

Bucky hovers over you before kissing you hard. He breaks the kiss, leaving you panting, his lips tracing a path to your ear. 

“You want this, baby?” His voice all smoke and gravel as he presses his covered cock against you.  

“Yes,” you barely manage. 

“Gonna have to get the drop on me first.” He moves so fast you’re almost in shock—that only lasts a moment though. 

“What the fuck?!” You scream after his retreating form. All you get in response is a bellowing laugh. “You mother-” cutting yourself off you bolt after him at full tilt, your whole body running on unreleased tension, desire, and just a bit of pure annoyance. 

Of course, your damaged leggings start to fall from your hips forcing you to wind a bit of your power around them to keep them from tripping you up as you pursue him. All you’re focused on is catching him, he’s so fast though… 

It happens without you thinking about it—your power snakes down from where you’re attempting to keep your clothing together, wrapping around your burning legs all the way to your feet. Suddenly each stride sends less of a shock through you, just your toes landing on the earth, and then you jump. 

Your power pushes against the air with force, propelling your body further than your sheer strength could ever manage. Sailing above him you spin around to look back at his shocked face. Despite your frustration with him you can’t help but laugh. 

Smiling, he pivots, clearly challenging you. 

All you’re really focused on is him and your body reacts accordingly, cutting him off with a speed that surprises even you. Every turn he makes, you counter, hovering consistently about eight feet from the ground. 

For a moment you take him in as he stops moving, assessing his new, and unexpected position. He looks so frustratingly sexy with strands of his hair falling from his ponytail, sweat making him glisten, and his eyes glittering with both awe and desire. You want him, more than you’ve ever wanted anything and anyone. 

Once again your power acts seemingly of its own accord to give you what you want, coiling around him. He tries to fall out of it by moving past your range as he’s done in the past only to find himself fully cocooned in a gentle yet firm embrace. 

Suddenly, you drop about a foot as a flash of pain shoots through your head. May be stretching things a bit thin, you think. Not wanting to plummet the rest of the way you lower yourself to the ground in front of him. With one last pulse of power, you pull him to you, lifting on your toes to kiss his slightly agape mouth. 

“Got you,” you purr, pulling the hair tie from his already loosened ponytail. Feeling the tingles of another shock of pain you release him before it hits. 

Bucky smiles down at you, “Guess you want your prize?”

“Damn right,” you grab him through his shorts, squeezing firmly. His lids flutter a bit and he presses back into your grip. 

A small noise slips from you as he lifts you into his arms before kneeling. Tenderly he lays you in the soft grass, covering your neck and chest with kisses. Your legs wrap around his hips and he pulls himself free of the shorts and boxers. 

You make love under the blue spring sky. Every movement unhurried, every kiss slow and sweet. When you both cry out in pleasure as you come there’s no one to hear for miles. In this moment you feel like the only two humans on the planet. It feels like heaven. 

Even the ride back into the city and the press of people near the pizza place couldn’t ruin the high you were both riding. 

Back at your apartment Bucky finally says it. 

“Y/N… you fucking flew today.” You shove a bite of pizza in your mouth and shrug. “That it?” His expression incredulous. 

“I mean,” you swallow, “it wasn’t quite that… I just, well…” You look past him, trying to think about what it felt like. “It was like when I float. I use the air as leverage—there’s always something to push against, dust, moisture. For some reason I was able to do it faster today is all. I didn’t focus on doing it just focused on you.” 

He raises a dark brow, “Guess we know what motivates you.” Leaning back in his chair he glances down at his lap. 

“Don’t be smug,” you toss a balled-up napkin at him earning you that ringing laugh. 

When you walk into the shop on Wednesday you’re a little bruised and very sore. You don’t mind it though. After every long weekend spent training hard at the farmhouse you feel stronger, more in control. 

The morning is filled with your standard tasks around the shop and discussing the reason you find Shakespeare’s histories exhausting with Mr. Goldstein. A few customers wander in, Victor lounges in the open door enjoying the warm air. It’s the kind of day that sometimes lets you forget your past and just be present in this life. 

Mr. Goldstein sits behind the counter in the early afternoon, contentedly sipping coffee and reading while you perch in the store window, your own book set aside to keep your hands free for the cat purring in your lap. Music hums from the radio on the counter. A contented sigh winds its way through your lips as your eyes slide closed. 

Mid-song the DJ cuts in, “We interrupt the broadcast for an urgent report. An unknown attacker has taken Sokovia. It… We’re receiving reports that the city is…” The man’s voice shakes, “The city is—I can’t believe I’m saying this—Sokovia seems to be under attack by some kind of… robots? The American force known as The Avengers is said to be at the scene.” 

Much to Victor’s disapproval, you shoot up at the last bit. The Avengers meant Steve, could mean- Before you’re able to finish your thought your phone vibrates in your pocket. Bucky’s text is short, but you feel the weight hidden in the words: Home. Now. 

Ice fills your veins, rendering you immobile for a few seconds. 

“Zeeskeit?” The term of endearment drips with concern.

“I… I gotta go. Will you be ok to close up?” 

“Of course,” he rises slowly. “Do you have people in Sokovia?” 

“Sort of,” you look back at your phone, hands beginning to shake. Sokovia was close, too close. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“Ok.” He sets your backpack on the counter, a hand extended. You grab the bag and take his hand, “Take care of each other.” 

All you manage is a nod and a tight smile before running out the door. 

When you burst into the apartment you’re hit with the smell of smoke. Bucky sits at the kitchen table a cigarette that’s more ash than anything else in his right hand. He doesn’t even look up at you, his eyes glued to the laptop screen in front of him. 

“Bucky?” You call softly. 

With noticeable effort, he drags his gaze to you. In all this time you’ve never seen him like this. His eyes red-rimmed, scared, hurting. A muscle ticks in his jaw as it does when he’s angry. His brows knit like they do when he’s concerned, and his shoulders slump in a defeated posture, while his left hand is in a tight fist resting next to the computer. 

Dropping your bag you close the distance between you quickly. He doesn’t move just turns his eyes back to the screen as you pluck the cigarette from between his fingers, stamping it out next to four others on a plate. 

You don’t try to get him to speak or explain as you move behind him. Wrapping what you hope are reassuring arms around his neck, you place a kiss on his cheek before resting your chin on his shoulder. 

It’s impossible to not be horrified by what you’re seeing. Four different feeds play on the screen. All of them show something that’s difficult to believe. 

Bit by bit an entire city rises from the earth. Another shifts every minute or so, revealing various views of a city being flooded with terminator rejects. The other two seem to be live feeds from people in the city, running, shaky, the sounds of screams providing a steady soundtrack to the horror show before you. 

Every now and then there’s a flash of that signature shield, a moment of movement laced in dirty red white and blue—easy enough to miss if you’re not looking but you notice them, their appearance signaled in the way Bucky’s body tenses every single time. 

Soon it becomes clear someone has managed to rally forces to evacuate the civilians judging by the enormous helicarrier seen from a ground shot of the now impossibly high city. You feel relief until Bucky speaks. 

“They won’t all make it. Too many targets…” You know that there’s only one he’s truly concerned about. There’s nothing to say, all you can do is hold him tighter. 

After a bit only feeds from the ground play on the screen. In horrified silence, you stare as the city quite literally explodes in the air and the feeds go dark. 

For a moment neither of you move or even breathe. All you can think is that there’s no way to know, not yet. 

Bucky explodes from his chair, sending both you and the table skidding back in opposite directions. His body shakes, fists balled up at his sides. Desperately you want to pull him close but you know it wouldn’t be welcome affection. Instead, you stand back, unsure of what to do. 

You think he’s going to scream, slam a fist into the wall, something, anything other than what happens. One second he’s a pillar of potential rage and the next he hits his knees with a thud. 

Not caring about what may or may not be welcome any longer you rush to him. Lowering yourself to the floor in front of him you pull his hands into yours, forcing them to open from the fists he still holds. 

“He may be fine. We don’t know.” He doesn’t look at you, just keeps his gaze fixed on the grain of the wood floor. 

With all those cell phones someone had to have eyes on the carrier. You pop up and immediately begin putting your own skills to use. They’d be trying to keep as tight a lock as possible on things but if you know what you’re doing… Your fingers fly across the keys, your breath held, hoping against all there is that you find what he needs. 

It takes a minute longer than you’d like but, finally, you’re able to dig up something. The image isn’t the best, it’s of a family clearly sending out a photo to let loved ones know they’re ok, but in the background, you can see him. Alive. 

“Buck!” His name bursts from your lips. “Look,” taking the computer you bring it down to him. Meeting you halfway up he takes it from you, staring at the screen. “He’s ok. He made it.”

“Goddamn punk,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. Hands shaking, he passes the laptop back to you before running his right hand over his face. 

Despite his clear relief that Steve was one of the survivors of the battle, the tension doesn’t leave Bucky over the next several days. 

You stop by the shop each day to check in but you don’t linger, not wanting to be away from home too long with Bucky in this state. Mr. Goldstein, as always, doesn’t pry, accepting your vague reassurances that you’re both ok and offering kind words every time. 

Conversation is sparse; which isn’t uncommon with you both, silence is easier when you’re wrestling with something, and you’ve each taken to given the other space when they need it. However, this is different. He keeps following the happenings in Sokovia, with an intensity that worries you, never saying a word as to why. 

The Avengers hadn’t been spotted in the region since the battle, all that was left now was clean up. Because of this, you couldn’t wrap your mind around why his focus was so drawn to the situation. 

Saturday morning you awake without his warmth next to you. It was something you expected, though knowing didn’t make his absence ache any less. He hadn’t withdrawn like this in so long. 

Before you call out his name the coffee pot lets out an exasperated gurgle. With a yawn you pad into the kitchen where a note beneath your coffee mug informs you that he’d stepped out, he’d be back later. You try and fail, to drown your worry in caffeine spending the better part of the next hour restlessly shuffling around the apartment, unable to focus on anything. 

When the door finally opens it takes all your resolve to not rush him. 

He kicks the door closed behind him, arms laden with groceries. Your brows knit in confusion, this was a Sunday thing. 

It had become your routine—Sunday morning load up on supplies and head to the farmhouse, then the rest of that day and Monday and Tuesday you spent training. The other days of the week you’d work at the shop and he’d do odd jobs as they came up. There was comfort for you both in this steady, yet unofficial, schedule, for him to break it made your heart kick up an uncomfortable rhythm. 

“We’re going to the farmhouse,” he says. 

It isn’t that you’re against the idea but you withdraw from the note of command in his tone. “Oh? We are?” You ask, hands settling on your hips as you watch him lay out groceries on the table. 

“Yeah. I stopped by the shop and let Mr. G know.” You say nothing, challenging him silently to turn and look at you, he just continues, “May be a few extra days.” 

“Huh. Guess I must have blacked out when we made this decision.” Your emphasis on we, doesn’t go unnoticed judging by the way his shoulders visibly tighten. It does, however, go unacknowledged. 

He pulls the last few things from the grocery bag before resting his palms flat on the table, head hanging, shoulders drooping. Despite your urge to do so, you don’t place a comforting hand on his back, don’t softly call for him. You know him well enough now to know he’s about to drop the act, he’ll apologize and you’ll talk it all out. He just needs space. 

For a minute, you watch as he takes in deep breaths, getting a grip of himself. You’re comfortable waiting, knowing this is about to be over, finally. 

“Get packed,” he says without throwing you even a side glance before grabbing the packs by the door. 

You don’t move. All you can do is stand a little slack-jawed at his behavior. When cold grey eyes finally look at you a shiver climbs down your back. 

He picks up your duffel as he walks back to the kitchen, pressing it to your chest. “I said pack,” his eyes bore into you until you grasp the bag in your hands. 

“We leave in forty,” he tosses over his shoulder as he begins to load up the packs with groceries. 

Too shocked by his demeanor to protest you numbly head into the bathroom and shower quickly. He’d never spoken to you like this, not even at the beginning when he’d been so scared… 

How could this be the same man who, just a few days ago, had been brimming with playful confidence and charm? The answer you didn’t want to acknowledge is that, just maybe, he wasn’t. 

You try but you can’t shake that thought on the journey to the farmhouse. It makes you antsy, causing the ride to be almost unbearable. As soon as he pulls up to the house you bolt from the bike anger and anxiety causing a storm to roll in your chest. 

You pay him no mind as you stalk toward the back door, effortlessly avoiding the trips and traps. All your focus is on quelling this emotion, on keeping it together, that you don’t hear him come up behind you. 

In an instant, he has you in a headlock, metal arm tight around your throat as it was the other day. This time though… he’s only holding back enough to not snap your neck. You slam your power slams back into him. It’s not enough to break his grip but it’s enough to allow you a few precious gulps of air before he’s on you again. 

He says nothing. No explanation, no taunt, just silence. Even his breath is measured and steady. You’ve never been afraid of him… until now. 

You force another wave of your power back using it to gain enough leverage to send you both to the ground. Jabbing your elbow into his ribs a few times he lets go gasping and you bolt away from him. 

Bucky doesn’t run after you, his pace is steady, determined. He told you before to only run when you have to, it tires you out too fast and that’s energy that can be better spent elsewhere. Taking a deep breath you slow, turning back to face him not too far from where he’d taken you in the grass a few days ago—a lifetime ago. 

The day around you is another bright and beautiful one, it’s almost offensive. 

He stops a few yards from you, cold stare chilling you despite the warmth. A few moments stretch into what feels like an eternity as you assess who will move first. 

Steeling yourself you go for it, heading for him at a dead sprint. Bucky doesn’t move—a few feet away you feign to the left before kicking away from the ground and veering right. It’s too fast for him to correct and you take advantage, landing a kick to his right shoulder sending him stumbling. 

Moving to land another blow he catches your calf in his metal grip flinging you away. 

This whole flying thing is new and you can’t get your bearings as you hurtle through the air. Who knows how far you would have gone had your back not met the old immovable wood of the barn with a crack. 

You can’t even cry out, can’t breathe in. Your ribs ache, your head is spinning, and there he is stalking toward you.  

Crumpled on the ground looking up at him feels like a nightmare, one you know the ending to already and you brace yourself for impact. 

No, you think shaking your head in an attempt to clear your vision. You have no idea what is happening but he is not this man and you won’t be so easily beaten. 

As he approaches you steady yourself. Just as he’s in range to strike you slip beneath his fist sliding around him landing a blow to the side of his neck then pull his knees from under him. He falls forward just a bit. Before he’s able to catch himself you spring back wrapping your power tight around his shoulders to slam him with all your force into the ground. 

Bucky cries out in pain causing your chest to constrict. But as he arches his gaze back there’s no tenderness in his eyes. 

This shakes you. Your hold on him wavers just enough for him to break free. Taking advantage he flips and rushes you. Barely, you manage to deflect his right hook at full force, your forearm screaming in pain as you do so. Pushing his body back a bit with your power you kick him with all your strength in the solar plexus. He gasps stumbling back. 

“Enough!” You scream. The wave of energy from you cocoons him as it had before but instead of tender you squeeze like a boa constrictor and press him to his knees. He struggles against you with all his strength sending shock waves through your mind and body. Still, you hold tight. 

“I said enough.” Your voice a low resonant growl as you force him from his knees to his back. Standing beside him, staring down, you meet his cold eyes with your own burning rage. 

“Good,” he sighs, all the fight flooding from him. 

“What?”

“You beat me. That’s good.”

Shaking your head you step back from him, your power releasing. Your breath comes in rapid, shallow gasps, doubt and anger and anxiety flooding your system. 

With a groan he sits up, rubbing the side of his neck where a bruise is already forming before slowly rising to his feet. Finally, he looks at you, and it’s him, it’s your Bucky staring at you with regretful eyes. 

It doesn’t soothe you though. This wasn’t an outburst, wasn’t some repressed trauma or lapse. This was calculated, planned. 

Fuming you close the small distance between you. With every ounce of your strength you slap him across his face, palm stinging. His head flies to one side and then the other as you slap him once more. He does nothing, just stares at the ground as he spits blood from his mouth. 

“Fuck you,” is all you can manage through clenched teeth as you raise your hand again. This time he catches your wrist in his right hand, holding it firm, as his eyes meet yours. 

“I had to know,” he says as though that explains everything. You shake your head, not trusting yourself to open your mouth. 

“If I had given you any warning it wouldn’t be the same… I had to know that you were ready if you needed to be.” 

You pull your wrist from his grip, “And if I’d lost?” A part of you already knows what he’s going to say. You swallow the lump in your throat, steeling yourself.

“We’d just need to work harder.”

Blinking at him in disbelief, once more fully thrown by his behavior, you open your mouth but nothing comes out. Based on how he was behaving, you had expected him to pull the same bullshit he had months ago and tell you that he couldn’t be with you, that the danger was too great and other drivel. Surprised or not you’re still furious.

“Let’s go inside,” he turns toward the house. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spit. 

Bucky’s breath audibly catches. He runs a hand through his hair and turns back to face you. Sighing he sits cross-legged on the grass, rubbing his chest where you’d kicked him. 

“That’s fair,” he looks up at you, eyes desperate. “Can we talk here then?”

You shake your head looking away, “I think I’m past talking.” Your whole body begins to shake, “You…” The words stick in your throat but you force them out, “I was afraid of you. I’ve-”

“Good,” he says softly. “There are parts of me you should be afraid of, Y/N. I needed to-”

“Remind me?!” You explode turning to him once more. “Do you really think I need a fucking reminder of what you’re capable of when I know what I’m capable of?!” 

The energy flows from you effortlessly. You reach your arm out to direct it with pinpoint accuracy, just an extension of your body. Your fist tightens and you can feel the fabric of the neck of his shirt even though you’re at least six feet from him. 

“Do you?” You ask once more in a low rumble before lifting him up, his feet dangling, and tossing him back. He doesn’t fall flat, righting himself and landing in a crouch. 

“No,” he says, staying low, only lifting his face to yours. “I needed to be sure that if I came at you full force, you’d be ok. I needed to know that you’d kick my ass if necessary.” The corner of his mouth ticks up in an attempt at a smirk. 

“Why?” Your voice cracks, and you lower yourself to the ground. 

“Because,” he walks over and sits directly across from you, “The government’s of the world and the goddamn Avengers just descended less than a thousand miles from here and all of them have a reason to want my head.” Your brows knit and you look away. Tenderly he reaches for your hands and you let him take them. 

“Please look at me, Y/N.” You do. 

He gives you a sad smile, “It’s easy to try and pretend that this,” he raises your right hand to his lips leaving a lingering kiss, “is all there is. That we could build a life without fear… But Sokovia reminded me that it’s not real.”

“No,” you shake your head like a child denying an obvious truth. “We can be happy. We can-”

“We can be. Hell, with you I am.” His thumbs rub soothing circles on the backs of your hands, “But we have to be smart. We have to have a solid plan. Because…” He stops, his eyes squeeze shut. 

When he opens them he looks down at your clasped hands continuing, “Because, if someone comes for me I… the chances of them taking me in to try me… Well, weapons don’t usually get due process, they get put to use elsewhere.”

“You’re not-”

“I am. To them I am.” 

You hate this, hate everything about this. You hate it because you know he’s right. Both of you had been existing day to day for the last seven months on the thin hope that the worst you had to worry about was your own ghosts. 

Sure you’d been training but even that was laced in a certain kind of intimacy. Other than passing mentions of the great vast ‘they’ who could come for either of you at any time, you didn’t discuss particulars. It was a Pandora’s box of fear neither of you wanted to be responsible for opening. Once you laid out a plan of escape, of attack, a worst-case scenario, then you were letting them into this life you’d built. You hated it, but it needed to be done. 

“If someone comes for me the likelihood of them turning me back into him is higher than anything else. If… If I’m that I won’t be able to keep myself from harming you. That’s why I needed to know.” The shame on his face makes your heartache. Still, you’re confused. 

“Do—do you think they’d send you after me? That they’d really take you in just to send you ba-”

“They just need the words.”

You shake your head, “I don’t understand.” 

“You didn’t have…” His breath is ragged suddenly, hands shaking in yours, “There are… wo-words.” You give his hands a reassuring squeeze, “Say the right words in the right order and… I’m not… I can’t…” You nod letting him know you understand, even if only a little bit. 

“Maybe… maybe they won’t work… maybe I’m strong enough but…” His eyes are wide, “I won’t risk you on a maybe.” 

“Ok,” you breathe out. “Ok.” 

“Do you… did they have words for you?” You shake your head. “That’s good.”

Good, you think as you take in this man before you. How many years had it taken them to break him? How much effort did they have to extend to make him the monster they wanted? Was it really good that you had broken so easily that they didn’t need more creative methods to bend you to their will? 

“I’m sorry,” his voice pulls you from that line of thought. He looks broken, “I know this is hard. But,” he takes a deep breath, “seeing Steve reminded me—reminded me of what I can do to someone I care about in that state.”

He’d never spoken about what happened at the Triskellion but you knew enough. After you got free of Hydra you’d needed to understand what led to your opportunity to escape--scouring the Hydra files and any information you could find for weeks. You knew Bucky was a tool they used in the attack, you knew Steve Rogers was found on the banks of the Potomac beat to hell but still breathing. 

“I almost-”

“But you didn’t,” you cut him off. “You didn’t kill him. I have no doubt you could have but you didn’t.” 

You take his face in your hands, his eyes close, “I understand why you did this. I do. But I want you to remember that you held yourself back then. And I’ll remind you until the end of my days that you were able to break through and save a woman you didn’t even know too—knowing what they’d do to you for defying them.” He opens his eyes and searches yours. “You are always in there, no matter what.” 

He sighs, “Sometimes. And sometimes I get control too late to matter.” 

“So what’s the plan?” You ask, not wanting him to linger on that particular slice of darkness.

His lips curl in a half-smile, “We’ll figure that out.”

“No more orders and surprise attacks?” 

“No. From here on out we do this together. I promise.” 

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[sad-sweet-cowboah]

My Little Secret part 4

I tried to edit something on the original post and when it saved, it deleted all of the text! So I have to repost. Also, Tumblr won’t let me tag anything with “trigger warning” in it without raising red flags so please pay attention to the warning below!

Summary: You run in with Arthur again, though you face some trouble later. What happens next?

Warnings: This chapter contains some content that may be troubling or triggering for some, such as attempted assault of the sexual kind! Reader discretion is advised.

Thursday was an easy day for you; reserved for studying during the day before bartending at night. It’d been two days since the ghost hunt at Shady Belle, and you’d pushed most of the strange encounter out of your mind in favor for your academics. You’d successfully gotten through the majority of the day working on papers and brushing up on older material, compensating for your reluctance earlier in the week.

Still, though, something about what happened wrapped around your subconscious like tendrils. You couldn’t exactly shake it, or figure out why.

As day turned into evening, you got ready for your shift at the bar before leaving. With it being a Thursday, it was a decent crowd, though nothing compared to the weekends. A diverse mixture of all ages drinking and swaying with the music overhead.

An hour passed into your shift and you’d immersed yourself entirely in a conversation with one of the tipsy patrons, a man in his 50’s, a regular who always tipped you extra if you wore a low-cut shirt, which you happened to wear today. You were used to his glazed eyes wandering down to your cleavage, as well as a few lame pick-up lines that you always humored, but politely turned down at the end of the night.

“Yer so gorgeous,” the man complimented with a toothy grin. “I keep tellin ya, I’d treat you right if you were mine.”

You giggled slightly, giving him a polite smile as you poured him another drink. “I treat myself just fine, Tom.”

“Ah, wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?” He chuckled with a wink.

You silently handed him his next drink and swept your gaze over the bar in search of new customers. Your eyes landed on a new but familiar figure, surprise washing over you despite the small some of excitement that accompanied it.

“Arthur!” You greeted him.

His eyes met yours, and a small smile crossed his lips. “Evenin’, Y/N. Nice to see ya again.”

“You too,” you responded, and then quirked an eyebrow. “Ya know, for someone who doesn’t drink, you seem to like being in bars a lot.”

Arthur chuckled slightly. “Well, maybe I just like the company.”

Your cheeks burned slightly, though unsure of it was a compliment toward you, or if he meant the bar in general. Either way, you were glad the dim lights masked the color on your face.

“By the way, that man ain’t botherin’ you?” Arthur continued, tilting his head toward Tom just a few stools down.

“Oh, him?” You waved it off with a laugh. “He’s harmless. He likes to flirt, but he gives me good tips.”

Arthur hummed in response. “You ain’t uncomfortable with that?”

You shrugged. “Not at all, if showing off the goods a little means a little more pocket money, I’m fine with that.”

Arthur chuckled once without humor, though you could detect a small frown on those full lips. You were curious as to why. “So, uh, are you gonna order another drink to…smell?” You asked.

The subject change caused him to laugh again. “Nah, just here to relax. Nice change of scenery after spendin’ the last few nights in Saint Denis.”

“So you like being out in the country? Or just small university towns?”

He shrugged. “More or less. I prefer to be out west, though.”

“Is that where you’re from originally?” You asked.

“I spent a lot of my early life out there, so in a way.” He answered with a small smile.

That did explain a little more about himself. While working here and going to school, you met many people from everywhere within the United States. Most people from out west were either wannabe cowboys or hipsters, at least the ones that stood out to you. Arthur somehow seemed a little different, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

Peculiar he was, especially from your first interaction with him. Though each encounter has become more pleasant, and you learned a little more about him each time.

You chatted with him for another moment before being pulled away with the arrival of more alcohol-thirsty patrons. Setting yourself back into drink making mode, a half hour had passed before you had a moment to breathe. By then you’d also noticed Arthur had left the bar, though unsure if he were elsewhere in the crowd or not.

The rest of the night continued smoothly, thankfully finishing your duties before clocking out at 12:30. As you left the building, you could hear some stragglers driving away or attempting to catch rides home.

The parking lot was fairly empty aside from a couple of cars sporadically parked here and there. As your stepped onto the asphalt, a chill ran down your spine, producing a shiver that nearly rattled your teeth. Why? It wasn’t cold out, though something felt…off. As if something was lurking within the shadows.

You shook your head, scolding yourself mentally. The Shady Belle experience had spooked you, but there was no reason for you to feel scared now. You’ve crossed this parking lot a hundred times.

“Silly.” You murmured to yourself as you started toward your car, though with a slightly hurried pace in your step.

Within a few feet of your car, you heard footsteps come up from the side. You blinked and spun around to come face to face with a drunken Tom, who awkwardly stumbled up to you.

“H-heeey, sweetheart.” Tom slurred, the smell of the whiskey still strong on his breath.

“Hi Tom,” you greeted warily. “Are you lost?”

“Naaah,” he hiccupped once, stepping even closer to you. “Listen…I wanna t-take you home with me.”

You stiffened, gripping your keys tighter. “Tom, I’ve told you before. No.” You responded politely yet firmly, hoping he’d understand in his inebriated state. “Get home safe.”

“I’m not going anywhere…without you.” He persisted, reaching out to brush his fingers along your arm.

You stepped back from his touch, turning yourself slightly away, though your keys were held in between your fingers. “Tom, you’re drunk. Please go home.” You feigned concern in your voice, though you held the unyielding wariness.

The hope that he’d laugh it off and walk away quickly diminished when his expression changed. Anger clear on his face as his hands, quick, had a vice grip on your upper arms. His body leaned against yours, sandwiching you between him and another car. Your gasp was audible, hopefully enough to catch someone’s attention.

“Tom!” You exclaimed, trying to wiggle free from him. He was surprisingly strong. “Let go of me!”

“I-I’m tired of playing these games with you, Y/N,” he growled. “I w-want you.”

Before you could respond, he forced his mouth to yours, forcing your lips open to invade. The alcohol on his tongue almost made you gag, and with quick thinking, you bit down on him.

A flash of hot copper exploded in your mouth, and Tom yelped and stepped back. Spitting the blood out, you didn’t hesitate to turn and race for your car. Though before you could even make it another few feet, strong hands yanked you back.

“You little…bitch!” You heard Tom snarl, ripping you back to him. You stumbled, struggling to keep your balance. Your scream was cut off when his palm slapped over your lips, and his arm wrapped tightly around you. “Yer comin’ home with me, right now!”

Your cries were muffled, scared out of your mind, you tried kicking at his shins. Your heels made contact, though with too little force to cause any real harm.

“I’m gonna punish you, little girl.” His whisper a hiss in your ear. Fear shot through you, your heart racing loud in your ears. You continuously tried to escape his grip but to no avail. You tried to force your lips open just a smidge to bite on his finger, yet his hold on your face was ridiculously strong.

You began to feel him drag you away, and you planted your feet to stand your ground. But this man was much stronger and heavier than you were, this rendering your effort fruitless. Your mind raced in panic, trying to think of anything else.

Why hasn’t anyone seen you yet?

Sharp pain entered the side of your head as a heavy blow. Your vision left immediately, engulfing you in darkness.

—-

The ground was rough, damp against your cheek. The sound of muffled struggle seemed to originate from above you. Shoes scuffling against the asphalt. Gasping and grunting.

Your eyes opened, your vision slowly coming to focus. You were on the parking lot still, laying awkwardly in a space between two cars.

Metal clattering caught your attention. You sat up and immediately regretted it as the pain in your head throbbed. You groaned and held your head, turning toward the sound.

A pocket knife lay just a few feet away, the silver blade shining in the moonlight. Further was Tom, pinned against one of the cars by…

Arthur?

You blinked in surprise. Where did he come from?

“L-Let go of me, asshole!” Tom coughed, his voice raspy. It only took you a second to see Arthur’s gloved hand wrapped around his neck.

“What possesses you to lay a hand on a woman like that?” Arthur growled. “What kinda man are you?”

Tom didn’t answer, only struggled to get free. Managing to get one hand free, his hand balled into a fist and swing out- only to be caught swiftly by Arthur. You heard a distinct crunch- and Tom let out a choked howl in pain. Your eyes widened.

Arthur leaned closer, almost as if he were about to caress him with his lips. His voice was low, though still loud enough to hear: “I catch you doin’ that again, I promise I’ll do a lot worse.” He then stepped back, releasing Tom as the older man crumpled to the ground, cradling his now broken hand.

Arthur’s attention then turned to you, his blue eyes bright and the anger still plain in his face. Your breath hitched; you’d never seen a man look so dangerous, nearly animalistic.

He approached you, and you automatically leaned back. Fear was still flowing like fire through your veins. He blinked, then paused, holding his hand out to you. “Come on, Y/N.”

Hesitantly, you reached out and took it. His skin felt cold underneath the worn leather of his fingerless glove. He pulled you to your feet with ease, though the rush caused you to sway. The throbbing on the side of your head worsened, the pain itself almost making you feel sick to your stomach.

Arthur steadied you, murmuring to you, “Where’s your car?”

Without speaking, you pointed to it, just a few parking spaces away. You didn’t realize how much you trembled until the keys jingled in your hand.

He plucked the keys from you and prompted you to walk forward. You did so, taking deep breaths as you kept your eyes forward, ignoring the whimpering and cursing of that vile man. Arthur’s hand rested on the small of your back, though very light to the touch.

He opened the passenger side door, hushing the protest that barely passed your lips. He helped you in before sliding in on the other side.

The movement of the car was almost dizzying. You closed your eyes, willing the spinning to go away. Your stomach churned uncomfortably, though it had been a while since you’d eaten. As the adrenaline wore off, your body felt drained.

“Where do you live?”

Keeping your eyes closed, you mumbled your answer. The pain began to dull, though the fatigue began to spread. With the gentle motion of the car, the hum of the engine and the cool air on your face. You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep when his voice gently roused you. You blinked awake to see your apartment complex.

He helped you inside, guiding you toward your door. You shuffled through the dimly lit hallway, staring at the numbers until you found yours. He even unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing for you to walk in. You did so, stepping across the threshold into your apartment, the darkness waiting to engulf you. An overpowering feeling of helplessness racked you from head to toe.

The fear still remained.

An idea sprung in your mind. You turned around to face him. “Hey, can you stay with me?”

Arthur gave you a quizzical look.

“I just…don’t want to be alone,” you said sheepishly, tilting your head down in slight shame. You were a grown woman, afraid of something that couldn’t hurt you. But after that event, you needed at least some company. You didn’t want to bother your friends, knowing it was too late to even message them. “At least for a little bit.”

“You hardly even know me.” Arthur responded, though his voice was soft.

“I know,” you sighed. “It sounds silly, but- I’m scared still. I just need some company for my peace of mind. Doesn’t have to be the whole night, at least until I can fall asleep. If it doesn’t inconvenience you.” You met his gaze again, staring directly into those bright eyes.

Arthur let out a sigh, rubbing his slicked back sandy locks. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

You let out a breath of relief. “Thank you. Please, come in.” You stepped back and get around for the switch, flooding your living room with a bright light.

He stepped in after you, the black leather jacket and dark jeans stood stark against your white walls. He certainly looked out of place in your quaint little apartment. You weren’t sure what to do at this point, your mind fogging any greater rational thought. Your insides felt hollow, your mouth still had a faint tinge of blood lingering. The pain that radiated from your temple had lessened greatly, yet still remained as a dull ache that pulsed every once in a while.

Arthur stared at you expectantly, though gave no notion to urge you in any direction from here. His eyes instead grazed you up and down. “You may wanna clean yourself up.”

You blinked and looked down at yourself, the apparent stinging in your arms had become more prominent. Bloodied scrapes, bits of gravel and asphalt dirtied your skin. You pursed your lips, thankful Arthur came when he did. There was no telling what further damage could have been done. “Yeah…just, chill on the couch. I’ll take a shower.”

He nodded silently, feeling his gaze on you as you headed down the hall and closed yourself in the bathroom. Switching both the light and fan on, you finally got a good look of yourself.

Your hair was messy, the neat ponytail was half pulled loose with strands sticking out here and there. The light makeup you put on was smudged, lip gloss smeared all over your lips and chin, along with a small blood stain. A fresh scrape took the majority of your cheek, most likely where you’d landed on the asphalt.  There was a slight swelling on your temple as well.

You recoiled at the sight, tears filling your eyes as you turned toward the shower. It could have been worse, you thought to yourself. Repeating the mantra as you unclothed and turned the water on. Within seconds it was hot, and you entered its comforting embrace.

You focused on cleaning yourself, slowly and tenderly scrubbing the filth away. The water and soap stung your wounds; though it was a reminder that you were safe now. The greater part of your mind still needed that convincing.

Taking longer than normal, you wrapped yourself in a towel and headed over to the bedroom, only glancing down the hall to see what Arthur was up to. You hadn’t seen him, though the footsteps indicated he didn’t leave yet.

You dressed yourself in a camisole and pajama pants, the fabric soft and soothing against your skin. As you ran a comb through your hair, your thoughts began to wander again.

I’m gonna punish you, little girl.

Your stomach lurched painfully, the memory causing you to double over. You could still smell his breath, the vice grip he had on you, the way his voice overpowered you-

A knock on your door snapped you back to reality. “Y/N? You decent? May I come in?” Arthur’s muffled voice sounded from the other side.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you responded, “Y-yeah.”

He opened the door slowly, his eyes darting to your hunched figure. He frowned, stepping closer to you. “Somethin’ wrong?” he asked.

“I…I just…” you huffed, trying to compose your thoughts. “Just trying to keep myself calm…”

Arthur nodded silently, sitting on the edge of your bed and he held something up to you: a steaming mug of tea. You gave him a look of confusion, and he replied, “I just made it. Help calm the nerves.”

Before you could say anything, he pressed the mug into your hands. Your fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic, and you peered into the liquid. It had a pungent, herby scent with a tinge of sweet, along with something else you couldn’t detect. Tea was something you’d get every once in a while before big tests and projects, though you weren’t sure if there had been any left over.

You took a small sip, the taste was unlike anything else. The bitterness of earthy leaves was slightly dulled by a tinge of sweet and tangy flavoring. The hot liquid hit your empty stomach, and almost immediately you began to feel more relaxed. The heat was soothing like the shower was. “Thanks.” You murmured, sipping some more.

He nodded in response. “What are ya gonna do?” he asked quietly.

You gave him a small frown of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“About ‘im,” Arthur clarified. “That asshole.”

“Oh.” You swallowed uncomfortably, drumming your fingers on the mug. “I…I’m not sure.”

“He’s a regular at that club, right?” When you nodded, Arthur continued. “Then tell your boss he ain’t welcome there anymore.”

It would be the right thing to do. But your boss would go the extra mile, trying to get the police involved. Word would get out what happened, and you’d be seen as a victim to feel sorry for. You pursed your lips in thought.

Arthur sensed your hesitation. “I know it ain’t the easiest thing to do, Y/N. Men like him ain’t worth keeping your mouth shut about. You gotta keep yourself safe.”

He was right. You nodded silently in agreement, knowing it would be an uncomfortable topic to bring up again. You took another drink, each sip seemingly calming you down more and more. “I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow night. And take the day off.”

“Good, you need a personal day.” Arthur patted your shoulder.

Somehow his touch was soothing as well. God, what else would have happened if Arthur didn’t show up when he did? Quickly, you diverted those thoughts away. You were home and safe, albeit a little injured. You sighed slightly and turned to look at him fully, seeing the content emotion in his face. “Thank you, Arthur. Thank you so much.”

He gave you a small smile. “You’re welcome, darlin’.”

Though you didn’t mind the sudden nickname, the way his voice rumbled was…something else. Placing the mug down, you reached out and hugged him tightly. He flinched a little in response, though relaxed after a moment and lightly patted your back.

He was cold, how was he so cold? You slightly breathed in the scent of his jacket, he smelled like rain and nature with a tiny hint of gasoline. It was evident he was a man that spent a lot of time outside, and he smelled good.

You pulled away before the embrace became a little too long, and a large yawn escaped your mouth. The tea definitely had done its job to calm you, picking it up to finish off the rest. The warmth spread through your insides, allowing a serene feeling to overcome you.

“I’ll let you sleep.” Arthur murmured, standing up and stepping away from your bed.

The last dregs of fear had been washed away, your mind able to relax now. You nodded and scooted back, sliding yourself under the covers. As your head rested against the cool pillow, your eyelids felt heavy. “Thanks again, Arthur,” you said through another yawn. “You’re such a great guy…”

The last thing you saw was his lips forming into a half smile.

[andrea-lyn]

hi! I absolutely adore your writing and all that you’ve wrote for Malex/Mylex! could you please maybe write something- Malex or Mylex, I love both so whichever you want! -with Alex having a PTSD episode and Michael (and Kyle if Mylex) helping him through it? I know it’s a pretty generic prompt but I love fics like these and can’t get enough!!

(Anon, you are very sweet! Hopefully you enjoy!)

*

It’s the Fourth of July weekend, which Michael has never really appreciated before. It’s an ode to a country that he crash-landed in and one with a government that would love to split him open if given half the chance. As a result of his particular feelings about the day, he’s opting to stay at home instead of going to the town-wide celebrations that Isobel is throwing down at the lake.

“Michael,” Kyle had protested. “Seriously?”

They’d been in the middle of packing up the picnic for the day at the lake, trying to bribe Michael with offers to get shirtless, booze, and as a last ditch attempt, a promise to try and shove Max into the water.

“I got beer here,” Michael had protested, “and the whole shirtless thing doesn’t count for much when I know you two will be back tonight, plus I can get you pantsless then, too.” He’s already sunk back into the couch at the cabin, doing his best to become one with it.

He can tell both Kyle and Alex are pissed at him, but they can stay that way. Michael will earn their forgiveness later.

“You don’t want me there,” he insists. “I’ll just sulk and bitch the whole time. We’re always talking about how we need to have more one on one dates,” he reminds Kyle, given that he’d brought it up at dinner the other day. “Look, it’s a perfect opportunity. Go, have fun, make out, mock me behind my back,” Michael says with a wave of his hand, digging out the television remote and taking a long sip of his beer.

Alex gives him an unimpressed look. “Seriously, Guerin?”

“Go make out with Valenti and touch his abs, you’ll forget I even exist,” he quips, but he still reaches up to grab Alex by the hem of his shirt, tugging him in for a quick peck of a kiss before doing the same for Kyle, though for Kyle, he adds, “Take care of him.”

“Always do,” Kyle agrees.

They leave without another attempt to drag him out, which Michael is beyond grateful for, allowing him peace, quiet, and hours of a Mythbusters marathon. He ignores the buzzing texts to his phone, knowing that it’ll be his siblings or Liz trying to guilt him into coming or sending him pictures of his shirtless boyfriends to try and make a case.

He’s in the middle of lighting up a joint when his cell rings. That’s not normal, which is why Michael leans over to see who it is, dropping the joint when he sees Kyle’s name on the caller ID.

“What happened?” he demands instantly, when he picks up.

“Michael,” Kyle’s voice is in a panic. “I need you here. Now!”

Michael curses under his breath, wondering who the hell is attacking them and why the hell he didn’t go with them to the lake. “Who is it? Is it Jesse?” He hisses when he stubs his toe, hopping into his jeans and boots, the cell pressed to his ear. “Kyle!” He can hear loud popping in the background, like gunfire. “Kyle, talk to me!”

“It’s Alex,” Kyle says. “We’re not under attack, but he thinks we are. It’s the fireworks, they started going off and Alex just went into this….this state…”

Shit, thinks Michael.

It’s the first year they’ve done Fourth of July celebrations and they’re both complete idiots not to have considered this possibility. He grabs the keys to his truck, grateful that he had his last beer hours ago before his cat nap, slamming the driver door shut and shoving the phone onto the dash before putting it on speaker so Kyle can talk to him the whole time.

He breaks about ten road laws as he speeds his way there, but it doesn’t matter.

“Kyle,” Michael begs. “Doc, you gotta talk to me.”

“He’s curled up, he won’t let me touch him. He keeps screaming that his leg hurts, that it feels like he’s on fire.” Michael slams both hands against the steering wheel, furious with himself for not going to the party with them. He could have done something like douse the fireworks with water or figured something out, but he’d been lazy and selfish and now Alex is paying for it. “I’m trying to get him back in the moment, but…”

“Get them to stop the fireworks,” Michael grits out. He’s still five minutes away, even pushing the pedal to the floor the way he is, hoping that no one is on the roads tonight. “Just get him through this. C’mon, Kyle, you know what to do.”

If anything, Michael had expected Alex to go through this at Caulfield, but they must have been far enough and the adrenaline from coaxing Michael to escape could have held it off.

He’d never considered that the smell, the sight, and the sound of the fireworks on a casual night out would do it.

Michael parks near the front of the event, slamming the door of the truck shut. He storms towards the chaos, seeing instantly where Kyle and Alex are because there’s a small crowd around them and he can hear Alex’s pained howling screams that tear into his heart, like a dagger shredding him to pieces.

Instead of heading there, he goes towards the lake and where the float carries all the fireworks. The fury inside him means that he doesn’t need anything more than the lightest of pushes to send a small tidal wave over the people and the fireworks on the barge, soaking them and rendering every last one of them useless.

The last one goes off in the sky and then, nothing.

It becomes clear to everyone that the show is over, and there’s a sudden rise in complaints and sounds of disappointment, but Michael turns on his heel and sprints for Alex and Kyle, skidding to his knees at Kyle’s side, hand out, but not touching Alex where he’s rocking on the ground, hand at the place where his leg meets the prosthetic.

“Deep breaths, Alex,” Kyle is saying and then going to through a pantomime of showing him that he’s breathing to get Alex to follow. Now that the din of fireworks is gone, there’s a chance he might hear him. “Okay? It’s Kyle and Michael is here too. Michael, say hey.”

“Hey, babe,” Michael says, and leans in to catch his eyes. “I’m here and so is Kyle. We’re in Roswell,” he says, trying to anchor him. It’s killing him not to reach out and coax Alex into his arms, but they both learned their lesson a long time ago when it came to touching Alex in the middle of an episode. “See how Kyle’s breathing? Do that. Deep breath,” he pleads.

Alex’s eyes are still riddled with pain, but they flick from Kyle to Michael, then back. He watches Kyle’s breathing and then he takes a slow breath in, a shaky one out, and starts to match his pace.

“Perfect,” Kyle praises. “Tell me who’s here with you.”

“Kyle,” Alex says, the panic starting to recede from his eyes. They slide over to Michael, fixed on him. “Michael.”

Michael sags forward and while he doesn’t feel right touching Alex just yet, there’s no issue with him touching Kyle. He grabs Kyle’s shoulder and half collapses into him, grateful that they’ve got Alex back in the present, if nothing else.

“We’re going home,” Michael says curtly. “Keep your phone on the whole time,” is his sharp warning as he digs his keys out, leaning forward to kiss Alex’s cheek and groaning when he forgets the “no touch” rule and leans back, seeing Kyle’s reprimanding look. “Fuck!” he snaps, when he storms away, storming right past Max and Liz with their concerned eyes.

When he gets to his truck, he grabs the wheel and forces himself to take in those deep breaths that they’d just made Alex do. He always complains that they’re bullshit in private, but they do calm him down. At least, enough that he can get back to the cabin to tidy up and get any potential triggers out of the way. Kyle talks to him the whole time over the phone and soon enough, Alex joins in the conversation.

His voice is thin, but it’s there.

They get back home thirty minutes later and Alex makes a beeline for Michael, wrapping his arms around him. Michael glances over Alex’s head to see Kyle nodding, so he wraps his arms around Alex until Kyle can join in, pinning them all in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry I let you two go off on your own,” Michael says, voice low. “I should’ve known you two could find trouble anywhere.”

“We should have stuck around and been shirtless from the start,” Kyle agrees with a joke. “Alex, I’m sorry that we…”

“Let’s not,” Alex cuts him off. His voice is stronger now, so Michael knows that the episode is over. “I need a bath to myself, then I want a beer, and you two shirtless on the couch curled up with me while we watch television, in that exact order.”

Michael lets go of Alex so he can drift back and focus on turning on the tap with his powers. “He’s back,” he says, grinning like an idiot, because every time Alex has an episode, Michael always worries that they might be losing some shred of Alex. Not this time. Not ever, if he and Kyle can help it.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Kyle agrees.

They send Alex off to get going on the first few items on the list, but by the end of it, the three of them curl in on the large sectional. Out here by the cabin, the sign on their lawn warns anyone off setting off fireworks or gun-practice, and it’s that blissful silence that they all sink into. Curled around one another, they check off the unspoken last item on Alex’s list:

Fall asleep tangled together knowing that they’ll protect one another from every threat, no matter what.

[venus-says]

Kamen Rider OOO Episodes 33-48 + Movie

And the Journey goes on.

Yes, I'm late. Things happened in the weekend that kinda slowed me down, I also still don't know how to properly write about endings so please bear with me. XD Since I'm posting this a little later I decided to include the movie already so it kinda makes up for the late upload.

This final point of OOO can basically be divided into two parts, the set-up for the end and the ending per se. So since there's this division I'll be dividing this review into parts as well, tackling first the movie, then the first "half", and the finale for last.

Starting with the movie, I think it was decent, it had nothing that made me overly excited about but it was quite entertaining. I don't have many reference points for Kamen Rider movies, but I think I liked OOO's movie more than I liked W's because it felt like something isolated but at the same time it felt part of the story, you know? Like, if this was split in a two-parter special and aired anywhere in between episodes 36 and 38 it would feel like part of the original progression of the story and not like an event that was completely isolated from the show. I don't know if I'm making myself understandable or not, but it was neat at least for me.

I don't think this movie had a message that it was trying to pass if they had I sure didn't pick up, but everything was so cool in it that I think it's more than okay. I liked the alchemist on her human form, her minions were quite fun, I also love the way she used her powers to gather cell medals, she was a good one-off villain. The movie-only power-up was decent, I like the design, I love that is very orange, and I like theme of the animals (I would love to see what GREED would come out of this medals), I think the Cobra powers were a little cringe and I still don't buy the backstory of this medals, but as a one-off power-up, it works.

For the things I don't like about this movie, I would say it's basically the action? I think it was very lackluster and a bit confusing at times. I really don't like the final fight, I think the alchemist worked better as a humanoid rather than a giant CG monster and I can't remember much of what happened there, I also think the whole thing of the GREED appearing to offer help is not very realistic to their characters, but it gives for a very awesome scene with all forms of OOO fighting together, I still don't think is something that would happen like that but it was cool as heck I can't deny it. The last point I don't like is Fourze, but I'll keep my points for the first Fourze review.

With the movie out of the way let's talk about the first portion of these episodes covering episodes 33 to 42. I think these are very interesting episodes, I have a few minor issues but overall is a good sequence of episodes and they give a proper build-up for the finale. What is more interesting to me is how the lore of the GREED was expanded on and how dark and sad GREED's lives are and how horrifying the process of becoming a GREED is. What hits me the most about the GREED transformation process is that this is happening to a character I like so much and seeing Eiji going through all of that really hurts because he's a precious boy and it hurts me to see him suffer. I also like having this new info because it gives us some explanation for why Ankh is such a jerk and why he clings to Shingo's body so much making him more sympathetic which they really needed to be able to pull off the ending in such a solid way as they did.

There are only two major things I don't like about these specific episodes. The first one is the GREED revive/reunion, when I first saw that Uva was trying to revive Mezool and Gamel I was very excited to see all GREED together again, but then they're revived and they do nothing relevant after it until their utter defeat. Their betrayal to Uva after their revival brought a very interesting point later on, but other than that the other Ankh and Dr. Maki were the only ones to do something relevant so it gave me that constant feeling of "why?" in the back of my head when thinking of them.

My other problem with it is Gotou becoming Birth. Gotou's arc has been all over the place and a huge roller-coaster with good and bad moments, but when it came the time for him to achieve his climax it was... lackluster. And I say that because they had a very strong build-up for it but they ended going by the easy route and it just felt weak in the end. I know I said I didn't want to see Akira go, but they had such a strong build-up for it, the bullet on his head starting to render him down and connecting that to his goal, he betraying the boys in order to get his money, and then he brings up that he wants the money not to be an altruist good guy but because he wants to do an illegal surgery to save his life???? C'mon this SO STRONG, SO POWERFUL, it could've been amazing if he had gone like that. But no, Akira is good, he really wanted the money to make that medical school, he didn't even die and made Gotou go through a horrible experience like a jerk. I can't stress enough how disappointed I was by that, yeah it was cool seeing Double Births later on but I was disappointed. At least Erika was more present in this part since now she works with Gotou and she was as amazing as ever so this plot wasn't as bad because of her.

The final stretch was both odd and very strong at the same time. I say it was odd because of the way GREED were getting "killed" one after the other especially after them not doing much since their revival. I really liked seeing Kazari being the first one to be defeated, and Mezool in her full power was very cool and strong. But it was kind of a let down for the most part. But even with that I enjoyed this final part concerning the GREED, seeing Ankh's betrayal was amazing, Uva becoming the "final boss" when he was the first villain we met was also very symbolic and it came to happen on a very good way, and while Maki's GREED form didn't last long it was still very cool.

My favorite thing about this ending was Eiji succumbing to his desire for power, which one wasn't something I didn't expect, and two was very well played out. When that Yummy with dream controlling powers attacked Eiji and what came out of it was Earth I though what Eiji's desire would be was something related to saving people, but I never expected it would go down to power, which is a very dangerous desire to have when you have purple evil coins inside you trying to turn you into a monster. I really like that fight between Eiji and Ankh in that beach where they were discussing a few of these points, it was so emotional and strong to me it was definitely the higher point of this finale.

The final two episodes are weird, both in the TV version and in the director's cut. There are things that are missing in the TV version that the director's cut fix, but there are still things in both versions that are "missing" to me. In the things the DC fix we have how more smooth the ending feels with added scenes that connect the events better, the DC also gives Gotou a better and more conclusive ending, Ankh has a better closure and they kinda make the fact than Ankh is just an arm have a deeper meaning that is missing from the tv version, so I'd say the director's cut is the definitive version of the ending.

However, as cool as seeing Maki getting thorn apart and being turned and consumed by a black hole was, there are things in this finale that it still lacks. I could come here and spent ages talking about how it was a Kougami Ex-Machina how those original medals came to be a part of the story, but that's not important my major problem comes from another aspect. My biggest problem with this ending is that it actually lacks an ending. I don't know, maybe it worked for other people, but to me, it felt like it was missing a more concrete conclusion. Like, I don't think it needed another scene to be added, but I think we needed at least a monologue from Eiji to settle things down for him, yeah we see that he finally overcome his trauma and is traveling again and that he's looking for Ankh, but we don't get to see the full scope of what that final fight caused him and I think it was an element that would help to make this ending feel more rounded.

Regardless of my complaints, this was a very good ending for a very good series. My first impression of OOO wasn't the best, but the show won me slowly with each episode making me like it more and more each time even though the problems I had at certain points, and now I really hold this series close to my heart... I dare to say I like it more than I liked W (Don't let Shotaro see this please XD).

And this was the end of OOO, how do you feel about this season? Have you watched recently? Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Since I'm behind schedule for this, today we'll have a double feature and later at night we'll have a second post going up for this week's episode of Zero-One so I'll (hopefully) see you all there. Bye, people. o/