#i can't promise a good or coherent answer

[nickfowlerrr]

so inviting, i almost jump in.

pairing: neighbor!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: fluff. pining. idiots in love? fake dating...kinda lol. a lil bit of angst but not too much.

words: 4.5k

notes: happy new year! i tried so hard to finish this last night but just couldn’t do it lol. this is part of the ciwywt universe, but i think it can be read as a standalone, too.

also - coherent, consistent timelines? sorry, don’t know her. idk where this fits in their story but it does bc i say it does. 😌 i really love these two and i hope you enjoy this lil fic as much as i do. thank you in advance for reading. as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome, and so appreciated! 💞

"Ow,” you wince, “damn it," you grumble to yourself as you set your eyeliner pencil down, blinking rapidly to quell the tears you could feel about to form in your eye. You huff and turn to look down at the cause of your distraction, your phone ringing loudly as it lays on the counter. You see the caller and preemptively roll your eyes. Not this again.

You swipe to answer the call and his voice immediately floats into your ear, giving you no time to even utter a 'hello'.

"Before you say anything-"

"No," you state firmly, annoyance clear in your tone as you stop him before he can begin.

"Doll,"

"Bucky, I said no," you cut him off again. "It's a no. No. No, no, no. Not gonna happen," you continue despite his pathetic huff sounding on the other end.

"I know you said no..." he says before trailing off for a second, "but, doll, I really need you."

Damn him. You sigh heavily into the phone, putting a hand to your forehead to stop the headache you know is coming. He's really trying to pull on your heart strings... unfortunately for him, it's not gonna work.

"You don't need me, Bucky. You're gonna be fine. They're your friends, if you just tell them what you told me, they'll understand. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's not," he huffs, stopping himself, and you can almost hear him shake his head, "Will you at least try to come by?"

You know you won't, but you don't want to upset him any more than he already is.

"Yeah, I'll try. And stop worrying so much. You'll have a good time, I know it," you smile, the thought of him and his friends enjoying their New Year's Eve tugging at your lips.

"Yeah," he responds, sounding a little unsure. "Okay, well, I'll see you later?"

"Mhm...maybe," you say.

"Doll," he groans, causing an unbidden laugh to slip from you at his dramatics.

"I said I'd try, no promises! But I do have to go now, so, talk later. Bye," you finish, hanging up on him before he can try and talk you into making a promise you have no intention of keeping.

You sigh heavily as you set your phone back down, returning to your almost finished makeup. Just because you aren't going out doesn't mean you can't look good.

You're still so surprised he asked you to be his fake date to his New Year's Eve party. Both because you were surprised he was hosting a party to begin with, and because he needed a fake date.

But that was just it, he didn't need a fake date. He wanted to get his friends off his back with the constant set ups and double dates they'd plan for him. What he really needed to do was tell them the truth, just like he told you. He didn't want to date, at least not right now. He said his mind was on other things. That was understandable, so you weren't sure why he couldn't just tell them that...

A part of you feels bad for not helping Bucky out, but the other part of you knows you'd feel like a total outsider at a small party being attended by the avengers.

Like, the real-life superhero team, The Avengers.

That was an immediate 'no thank you'.

You were content to spend the night alone; just you, your grapes, and some apple cider to cheers to the new year.

--

The television plays on, another episode of a show you've seen ten times before just starting up, as a knock sounds at your door.

You furrow a brow as your head shoots in its direction. It only takes a second for you to come to the conclusion that it must be Bucky. You set your drink down and stand from where you were sitting cozily on your couch.

You fix your dress, and for no reason at all, check yourself in the mirror before you near the door, making sure your makeup isn't smudged and your hair still looks nice as you do.

There's another knock as you get to it and you open your door with a bit of attitude at his impatience.

"Bucky, how many times-" you're stopped short as you quickly see that the man before you is, in fact, not Bucky. "Oh, uhm, sorry, can I help you?" you ask.

"Yeah," the man laughs, "I'm here for the party. This is the right apartment, isn't it? Bucky Barnes?" he asks, looking at you quizically.

"No," you answer, "no, wrong apartment. He's just," again you're cut off, but this time by the door right down the hall opening, none other than Bucky peeking out to look down at you and - oh my god wait...is this - this is - holy shit you're talking to Captain America. Your eyes round as you look from Bucky back over to the man before you. "Oh, gosh, you, you're,"

"Sam Wilson," he smiles brightly at you, extending a hand. You shake hands as he continues, "and you must be-"

He is cut off from saying your name as it comes out of Bucky's mouth, almost frantically. You look from Sam back over to Bucky, your eyes still wide.

"I know you're still getting ready, but would you come here for just a second," he nods at you. You look once more between Sam and Bucky, your eyes narrowing as they land back on your own personal pain in the ass. What the hell is he up to... You and Sam go to walk over to him but Bucky speaks again. "Not you, Sam. You stay there," he says in a fuss. Sam puts his hands up, a look of confusion clear on his face at Bucky's demand.

You continue toward him and as soon as you're close enough to touch, he pulls you to him, turning you both so Sam can't see what you're saying. It's a hushed conversation, a whispered argument, really.

"You have to come over."

"No, I really don't."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You're staying."

"No, I'm not."

"You're staying. I'm not letting you leave," he says, trying to corral you into his apartment as you swipe at him, a back and forth of swats ensuing between the two of you.

"Bucky!" you finally whisper yell, stopping the battle as you ball your fists, almost stomping like a toddler in your annoyance. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I lied."

"Huh? To me? About what?"

"To all of you. But mostly them. I told them you'd be here. Because I thought you would be. But then you said you weren't coming, but I couldn't tell them that or they'd think I was just making up another lie about you..."

"Another lie?"

"I...may have... told my friends that we're dating and have been for a few weeks," he murmurs under his breath, so quiet you can barely hear his confession.

"You what?" you balk, trying your hardest to squash the stupid butterflies that are fluttering around in your stomach now at the idea of not only dating Bucky, but of being someone he brings up in conversation to other people.

"Alright, love birds, cute as this is, are one of you gonna invite me in or am I just supposed to stand here awkwardly in your hallway all night?" Sam interjects, walking to you both as you turn your heads to look at him.

Bucky turns entirely, moving closer to you, slipping his arm behind your back and resting his hand on your hip, "Yeah, welcome in. Steve said he'd be here with beer in a few minutes," Bucky says, an annoyed edge to his voice as he lets Sam through the door. Sam raises a brow at you and you force a smile. As soon as he's inside, Bucky snaps the door shut behind him, leaving you both in the hallway still.

"What the hell," Sam says, loud enough for you to hear through the door.

"Look, it started as a lie to get out of a date, but then I just kept using you an excuse to not go to things I didn't wanna go to. And ya know, more than half the time I wasn't really lying because I was with you," he tries to excuse himself.

"Are you insane?" you ask him plainly.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I really need you to be here tonight, please," he begs, his puppy eyes starting to get to you.

"You had only asked me to be your fake date."

"Yeah, once you said yes, I was gonna work the girlfriend thing in," he smiles wryly, rubbing the back of his neck in his anxiousness.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Is that a yes?"

You roll your eyes before acquiescing, "Fine. But you've gotta come clean tomorrow. You can't start the new year with secrets, it doesn't bode well for anyone."

"Deal," he smiles his real smile this time. Then his eyes drift down to your outfit and you warm, like you always do, under his attention. "You look good," he says softly, sincerity in his voice.

"Thanks," you accept quickly. You will not let him fluster you so easily. Not tonight.

--

More of Bucky's friends arrive soon after you get back from your apartment, your bag of grapes and bottle of unopened cider in hand. Bucky introduces you to each of them and you're now unsurprised that they know your name and exactly who you are. And you, for your part, are in awe of each and every one of them. Though you like to think you don't make it obvious.

And it's surprising how normal it all feels.

You for sure thought you'd be a nervous wreck around these people, but, especially with Bucky by your side, you've never felt so calm and comfortable, and at a party of all places. Though you suppose it helps that you're already so comfortable around his apartment. Still, it's nice. They're nice. And fun!

Card games are played, karaoke sung, and stories told as you all snack and chat the evening away.

You're all laughing as Sam talks about how everyone was sure Bucky had been making you up like a summer camp girlfriend after the fifth time he claimed you were sick or out of town so you couldn't show up to the events they had invited you to. Of course, you had no idea about any of them, but you do know where you were each and every night they brought up.

You were here.

With Bucky.

So, he wasn't completely lying. You smile and look to Bucky who stands right next to you. Your eyes instantly meet his, a smile of his own already gracing his face. You look back down, bashful despite yourself.

The night has passed so quickly and it's already nearing midnight. You're about to go get your grapes ready, but Steve's voice stops you, catching your attention.

"Ya know, I can't even remember the last time I've seen you look so happy, Buck," Steve smiles as he looks at the two of you. "I'm really happy for you, both of you,” he adds. “It's obvious how much you two care about each other. It's good to see."

You don't know what to say, and you're too scared to look at Bucky. You just force another smile, feeling a bit sad more than anything. Because this isn't real. Whether you'd like it to be or not. It isn't. You have to remind yourself of that.

Bucky's hand squeezing your waist, and the feeling of his admiring gaze on you as he pulls you closer to his side, doesn't help. It just makes that pit in your stomach grow deeper.

This is easy for him because it means nothing.

This is killing you because it means everything. It’s everything you never give yourself permission to dream about. Everything you want. And it’s what you know isn’t for you. It couldn’t be.

Just a few more minutes, you breathe, and then you'll go back to normal. No dating, just friends...just friends? Whatever it is you are to him...

You're lost in thought as the conversation continues around you, Bucky's hand never leaving you and his gaze never wavering. Even as he engages in the conversation, his attention is solely on you.

"Oo, countdown is going!"

The yell pulls you out of your head as your eyes snap to the television. What the hell! How did you just lose eight minutes? Damn Bucky always taking up your thoughts and distracting you.

You don't have the time to get to the fridge for your grapes as the kitchen is crowded, flutes of cider and champagne being passed out among the group.

You tsk, oh well. At least you have on your red underwear.

As the count gets lower, Bucky gets closer, and you mindlessly lean back into him as you watch the live broadcast from Time Square. Ten seconds hits and you all count along, Bucky's other arm comes around as he holds you from behind. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Bucky turns you around in his arms, catching you off guard as you look up at him, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

Two.

He leans in, and you're frozen. His nose brushes yours, as his lips brush against your own. Oh.

One.

"Happy New Year," he whispers against you, cheers and exclamations of the same sentiment shared all around the living room, between everyone else.

"Happy New Year," you whisper back breathily before you unthinkingly press closer to him.

His lips meet yours as he leans in ever closer and kisses you, so softly. Your eyes flutter closed as you return his affection, kissing back harder than you intend before you break away. It feels like magic, it feels like home. And you want nothing more than to do it again. To lose yourself in him so delightfully…

You remember yourself then and almost shy away completely before Bucky takes your face in his hand, turning you back to him. You lock eyes once more and you feel like you can't breathe at what you see in his. You don't have time to think on it before his eyes flick down to your lips and then he's kissing you again. His lips press harder against yours, still moving just as gently but somehow it feels much more intimate. Sincere. Real.

You deepen the kiss and then suddenly the whooping and claps around you both bring you back to reality.

You pull away, taking a sobering breath, blinking away the haze of longing as Bucky's delicate touch remains on your cheek. You gingerly reach to take his hand, slowly pulling it off of you. You hold it for a second, squeezing his hand before letting it drop.

The celebration continues all around but you need to get yourself together. Alone.

"'M gonna use the bathroom," you whisper to him, knowing he can hear you even through the din.

You exchange 'Happy New Year' exclamations with everyone you pass on your way to his bathroom and bid goodnight to the people already getting ready to head home. A lot of them have early mornings at the tower, so you get it.

There are only a few people in the living room with Bucky as you look back before you escape to the bathroom, taking your time to decompress.

Sam, Steve, and Nat were talking with him, but his eyes were on you when you looked at them.

You knew this was a bad idea. You knew you'd get caught up in the fantasy. And somehow, he still got you to do it. You curse yourself in the mirror and then notice your smudged lipstick.

The thought of your lipstick staining Bucky's lips right out there has you in a flurry of emotions...

He kissed you. Twice. That actually happened. But did it really mean anything?

Your heart twists as you refuse to believe it could have. You just need to... God, you don't know what you need. All you know is right now you can't stop thinking about Bucky's hands on you. You can't stop thinking of how soft and supple his lips are. And how damn good of a kisser he is.

You look at yourself once more in the mirror.

Fucking hell. What are you gonna do? You sigh, eyes squeezing shut before you shake your head at yourself.

You turn back to the door, opening it right when someone's knock hits.

You're somehow surprised, and yet not at all, to see Bucky staring back at you as you pull it open wider.

"Hey," you say, raising a brow and shoving every fuzzy feeling threatening to strangle you back down.

"Hey," he started. "Everyone left. I just, uh. Wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm good," you nod.

"I'm sorry. About kissing you."

"Oh," you utter - sounding more dejected than you wanted to. "Yeah, no. Don't, don't even worry about it." You muster a shamefully see through smile.

His stare is near invasive as he really looks at you, analyzing you. He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it, instead giving you a tight lipped smile in return.

He nods, then looks to the floor, "Okay," he accepts.

You nibble your lip, crossing your arms as he still stands in front of you.

He notices and moves out of your way, offering a small sorry and a huff of a laugh.

You walk back out into the living room as he follows.

"Wow, this place is a mess,” you breathe a laugh, hoping to keep the subject change.

"Yeah," he agrees, "I'll be having fun tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" you question. "Are you busy now?"

"... I guess not."

"Then grab a garbage bag, Barnes. We've got work to do."

He laughs, "Oh, yeah? You're gonna stay and help me clean up?"

"What are friends for if not clean up?"

He smiles at you as his mind replays his conversation with Sam, Steve and Nat just minutes ago.

He told them the truth about you, and their reaction wasn't what he expected, but definitely what he needed.

"Wait, sorry, you're not dating her?" Nat asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, I'm confused, too," Sam added. "You guys act more like a couple than most couples I know."

"And she's cute, you seem perfect together."

"Well, we're not. Not, not perfect together," he amended, "I mean we're just not together. We're friends. Nothing more."

"Looks like a hell of a lot more, if you ask me..."

"So," Steve finally chimed in, "you spend all that time together, you talk about her constantly, and I saw the way you kissed her at midnight, Buck, but you're telling us it's nothing more than friendship?"

Bucky didn't know what to say. But he knew Steve knew what he was really feeling. He knew exactly what he wasn't saying.

"Do you want it to be more?" he asked. "Because from an outsider's perspective, it seems like you have everything with her but the label."

"I..." Bucky looked around, making sure you hadn't snuck back out of the bathroom yet, "yeah. I do want it to be more. She's, fuckin' perfect," he breathed a laugh as his thoughts, as they always do, strayed back to you. That familiar warmth that fills his chest anytime you're near, or hell, anytime he so much as thinks your name, returned to him. And suddenly his thoughts went back to the softness of your cheek as he held you close earlier. How pliant and perfectly your lips moved against his as you kissed him back. Not once, but twice.

Even still, he thinks back to when he told you why he was so reluctant to go on the dates his friends kept setting up for him. It was a lie when he said it was because he didn't want to date right now... well, partially. He really didn't want to date around. And his mind was focus on other things.

Other things, of course, being you.

When you nodded and told him you got it, that you felt the same way, his heart felt like it deflated by ten.

He was getting ready to finally make his move and ask you out, for real this time. But how could he do that now? He didn't want to be another guy you had to swat away, he couldn't be another one of your rejections. And you gave out plenty, always to his selfish delight if he was being honest. In fact, he can't remember the last time you actually went out on a date. It's been months...

Most of your nights are spent together. Just the two of you. But if you weren't wanting to date anyone right now, and he asked you, he couldn't be sure what you'd say. More importantly, where it'd leave you.

Bucky wasn't stupid, he wasn't blind, and he wasn't deaf. He had every confirmation he could ever want that you liked him the same way he liked you. But he didn't want to chase you away by pressuring a relationship, especially if that's not what you want.

"It's clear she likes you, too, ya know," Steve pointed out what he thought was the obvious.

"I know, I just. I don't wanna push her away by moving too fast. I don't think she's looking to date anybody right now,"

"If you don't ask, you'll never know."

He knew they were right. He needed to just bite the bullet and ask you outright. And he would.

But as he watches you glide around his kitchen, so at home, putting things back in their rightful places and throwing away the random garbage left behind, he thinks maybe not tonight… He doesn’t want to ask a question that might make you leave. But then again…what if it makes you stay?

"Chop chop, supersoldier," you admonish him as he continues to watch, staring dreamily at you. Your back is to him so you can't see his face, but you can feel the weight of his gaze.

Bucky follows your lead, tossing away the empty cups and putting away the leftover food and drinks while you wipe down the counter.

It really wasn't that much of a mess, but you're glad to get it cleaned now, so you won't have to worry about it tomorrow.

Wait...why would you be worried about it tomorrow? This isn't your apartment. God, you really are always over here, aren't you...

You turn to Bucky as he ties off the bag of trash.

You just look at him for a minute. Admiring him from mere feet away while he does the same to you. It's quiet between the two of you, but you can feel the charged silence as it brims with words unsaid.

You know what you want to do right now. But you do what you think you should instead.

"I guess I'll head out, then."

"Oh," he breathes.

"Oh?"

"I just, uh,” he shakes his head, "Never mind."

"No, what is it?" you prod, now entirely curious.

Bucky's bright eyes flash back up to yours and you see him search for what to say instead of saying what was on his mind.

"Your grapes," he remembers, turning to the fridge to get them for you, "you didn't eat them."

"Oh, yeah, well, too late now," you laugh softly.

"What's your resolution?" he asks.

"That's not how the grapes work, Bucky."

"Come on," he goads. "What's your resolution? I wanna know."

"Hmm. Well, good question," you think for a moment, watching him as he rinses off a bunch, then pulls two grapes from their stems. You mindlessly purse your lips as you think. "I want to be less scared," you start quietly, eyes meeting his intent gaze, when he looks back at you, "More confident," you add with a little nod.

"You, more confident?" he asks. "You're one of the most confident people I know. And I know Thor," he adds, getting the laugh he was hoping for from you.

You shrug, "Fake it til you make it." You give a soft, almost sad smile. It physically hurts him to see that hint of sadness in your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to do whatever he can to take it away. He hands you one of the two grapes and you raise a brow as you take it.

"And you?"

Your heart rate kicks up as he steps close, invading your space and standing right before you.

"I…would like to communicate better."

You huff a laugh, tittering, "Yeah, that's a good one."

"Let's both start right now," he says, holding up his grape.

"Okay. Let's," you hold up your own grape, bumping it into Bucky's as if you were toasting before you both pop your own grape into your mouth, stupid smiles on both of your faces.

As you finish, Bucky takes a step closer, surprising you as you look up to him. A bit of deja vu coming over you as you swallow hard. You wait a long breath for him to say something. And then he finally does.

"So. This is me, trying to communicate better: I'm not really sorry that I kissed you. Either time. And if I'm being entirely honest, I'd really like to kiss you again right now."

You're stunned silent and you think you can hear your blood rushing in your ears as you blink up at him.

It takes you a moment before you think you can respond, but Bucky speaks again before you do.

"But I'm not going to do that. Because I want to do this right. In fact, I've been wanting to do this right for months."

"Bucky?" you murmur quietly.

"Doll, will you do me the pleasure of accompanying me to dinner and a movie this Friday?" he asks sincerely.

Your mouth is dry and you have to force yourself to swallow hard again so you can speak. "We always do dinner and movies on Fridays," you point out.

"I mean as a date," he clarifies, holding himself to his resolution.

You stare at him, unsure of what to say. Well, that's not true. You know what you want to say. You know what you want to do. You want to say yes, and you want to lean into him again and indulge him in one more kiss, because you want to kiss him as badly as he wants to kiss you. But that terrified voice in the back of your head is currently telling you to make a run for home as fast as you can. You want to fight the fear, really you do.

Bucky is keeping his resolution already, you're just not sure if you can do the same.

"Uhm," you drone awkwardly.

He laughs that nervous laugh you rarely get to hear...the one you love.

"Is that a yes?" he asks with a hopeful wince.

It takes you a second and then your mouth moves before your brain does as you respond to him.

You stand there, a bit shocked at your own answer, and not entirely sure where to go from here...

[funkynumaki]

Could I request something for Naib and Norton? Maybe them expecting they'll be the dom during their first time with you (just because they're seen as tough/manly and that's the role they usually took when it comes to sex before they met you) but then you turn the tables on them and top them and them surprisingly loving it?

Turning table

Summary; they're usually the one who's in charge or take the lead in sex, so what happen if they have a partner who's more dominant than them?

Characters included: Norton Campbell and Naib Subedar

Warning: Dom!reader x Sub: character(s), handjob (G), slight blood mentioned in Norton's (like just one line).

A/N: sorry for not posting, something caught up and I lost motivation. But I'm back! I can't really promise if I'll be back long though. For now I'm trying to clear my draft <3.

(NOT PROOFREAD)

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|| Norton Campbell

- when you both start dating Norton always thought that he'll be the one who'll take in charge of intimate moment, credit to him it was an almost logical thinking of his. I mean, he's way bigger than you, so in his mind it's supposed to be him who's in charge, right?

- so it was a bit surprising to him when you prove him wrong. And more surprising that he ironically enjoy being in that position, even as much as sometimes he'd not like to admit.

"How is it?" You ask, looking at the man underneath you. Watching as groan and breathy moan slipped from his throat. "Fuckin-nh good..-" He manage to answer your question with little or no self control, especially in the state he's currently in. Your fingers move instinctively, teasing the tip of his dick, Tracing your nail slightly on it. "O-ohh shit-!Pl-ngh..!" His words barely coherent anymore. The prospector's back arched slighty at the sudden pace. "What's that..? You doesn't look like someone who's usually in charge right now.." You cooe in his ear, which he answer with a strangled moan. Your finger stop stimulating his tip, changing its main focus on the base. "Fuck! Ga-ahh..!" He throw his head back from the sudden pleasure that is now mainly on the base of his dick. His hand nails digging your back almost hard enough to drew blood. "Sensitive much, hm?" You chuckle as he try to suppress his noise by nipping on your neck, though it's a bit useless since his breathing is still labored. "Answer me, love. Let me hear how much you love it." You said, slightly threatening him by slowing your pace.

"Mnh..hh-! N-no-dont-fhuck!pl-ease..! I need it..-please-Ahngh! I love it-lo..veit so-much..!"

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|| Naib Subedar

- being a mercenary he is used to bring in charge, well mostly because he usually hold more power in the relationship. Trust is something important in naib's relationship, so even if he's already aware that you can switch and take in charge, he still needs sometimes to think. He trust you, just not sure at first about the idea.

- when the time arrives, it's best to be gentle with him. And let him get comfortable with being the one's bottoming. At first he thinks it feels a bit weird, but gradually enjoy it with each passing second.

You notice how he hides his slightly flushed face on the crook of your neck, trying to prevent any noise slipping out of his throat. "You okay..?" You ask, waiting for him to confirm that he's okay. Since the least that you want is accidentally hurting him when he finally show you his vulnerable side. ".. Yes.. J.. Just continue..-" Nodding at his confirmation, your hand slightly fasten its pace. "Ng-ahh-" A choked moan slipped down his tongue, his eyes trying to focus on your fingers as they wrapped around his throbbing dick. "No need to hold it, love. I want to hear you moan" You whisper in his ear, brushing a strand of his hair back. Naib let out a groan, eyes still focused on your fingers. His face still slightly flushed. Your nail trace the tip of his dick, he trashes his head back at the sudden stimulation against his tip. "Doing so good..." You cooe.

"A-ahh! Fuc-hh..please. S'good.."

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I might post my art in this acc :0

[purple-obsidian]

Heyyyyy pookieeee-i saw your Jason todd fic and wanted to ask,what do you think he will be like teaching his gf how to drive?

(Because nobody in my freaking life taught me how to drive yet so I have to sit like a duck and wait for someone to pick me up when I wanna go somewhere pleaseeee let me drivee-)

be brave (jason todd x fem reader) wc 800

⭓ fluff isn't my normal cup of tea. but for you, pookie, i can make an exception ;) sorry this took a while to answer, hope you don't mind i made this specific to driving a motorcycle. that's just what felt right when i was meditating on this prompt so i went with it. enjoy.

"Jason, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"You second guessing me, princess?"

"Yeah, maybe I am. I could kill us!"

Jason scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief. "You think I would let that happen? Ever?" With cocky grin, Jason walks over and stares down at you, noting the apprehension on your face. "Remember the day we met? You told me you had a bucket list. Things you wanted to do before you died."

"Yeah, I only told you that because I thought I was going to die. You rescued me. I got plenty of time now, I don't have to learn how to drive tonight. Its already dark." You reach your hand up reflexively to rest against his chest as he gets closer. Its a habit of yours. You always find yourself drawn to the steady beating of his heart. Its grounding, and you need some of that right now.

"The road is well lit. We're miles from the outskirts of Gotham, no traffic out here. Just you and me, baby. Why not now?" His large hand rests over yours, pressing it more firmly against his chest. His heart is beating slow and steady, and his piercing green eyes are filled with admiration. "You and I both know that every day we have together is precious. Why wait to do the things you wanna do? Besides, I'd feel better knowing my girl can drive my bike if she needs to."

Jason knows you too well, calling you his girl like that makes you feel weak in the knees. Your own heart beats faster as you break your gaze away from your boyfriend smiling down at you, looking over at the motorcycle he brought you here on. For some reason, it looks more intimidating than it did a few minutes ago. You swallow the lump in your throat before looking back at him. "I'm nervous."

"I know." He states matter-of-factly. Of course he knows, he can read you like a book.

"I've literally never driven anything before. Like ever. I haven't even-"

"Shhh." Jason's hand leaves yours and cups your face gently. His other hand is on your waist, keeping you close. "You don't have to be good at it right away. I don't expect you to be. But you're smart. And you're perceptive. And I know after a little practice, you'll get more confident. I won't let us crash, baby, promise."

Jason really does know you too well. He can see the rebuttal forming on your lips before he finishes speaking. So he leans down to kiss it away before you can verbally express your doubts. The tinge of frustration you feel at being cut off isn't enough to keep you mind from turning to mush from the kiss. His lips are so warm, his breath tastes like spearmint, and his touch gives you butterflies.

But the kiss ends all too quickly. You know he cut it short it on purpose, not wanting your brain to turn off completely before you try and drive for the first time. "Sorry, babygirl, can't give you too much. How could you drive if you're all drunk from my kisses? Hm?"

He runs his fingers through your hair, taking in how cute you look when you're speechless. A moment later, Jason releases his hold on you and turns towards his bike, walking to it with a bit of pep in his step and smugness in his grin, leaving you stammering for a second as you try and string together a coherent thought.

"F-fuck you, Jason." You say after a moment. He always knows how to shut me up.

"I love you too." He grabs his helmet and puts it on before tossing you yours. It's an easy catch, but you're still giving him a dirty look.

"Why did we have to do driving first?" You grumble, accepting your defeat. "Pretty sure seeing the pyramids was also on my bucket list. Along with an abundance of other fun things, like riding in a helicopter, or swimming with dolphins. Or what about joining the mile high club? I'd think that one would be your first priority."

Jason is beaming, watching you put your helmet on and get ready to ride. Even as you scowl at him and mutter complaints, his heart melts at how easily you folded. All it took was a kiss. He always gets his way. He knows you can't say no to him. Jason Todd has you wrapped around his finger, and the vigilante couldn't be any happier about it. He looks you up and down to admire your body before replying, "Stick with me, princess, and I'll make all your dreams come true." He promises. "One at a time. I'll show you the pyramids. I'll fuck you in a plane. But first…"

He grabs you by your waist with both hands and effortlessly lifts you up off the ground to set you down on the seat of his bike. You yelp in surprise, quickly grabbing his hands to steady yourself. "First, you gotta be brave and learn how to ride your boyfriend's bike."

⭓ masterlist ⭓

[kentosbabes]

*little bit smutty

Bf-Gojo who spoils you rotten, sending you large bouquets of flowers to your office desk and keeping one of the flowers to himself so he knows when to replace them. Not only does he spoil you with expensive gifts but takes you out to expensive restaurants and trips around the world on his private jet.

Bf-Gojo who makes sure to wake up early sometimes to make you a cup of coffee and your favorite breakfast so you get a good start to your day. He also loves waking you up with his fingers deep inside of you, feeling your hips instinctively move into him as you sleep, and when you wake up your are too wrapped up in the pleasure to use your words the only coherent thing being you repeating his name over and over.

Bf-Gojo who watches his bank balance fluctuate knowing you are out shopping and spending all of his money. He can't wait for later to watch you prance up and down the hallway showing off all your new clothes to him like a model. Especially when you wear that specific light blue color matching his eyes. It makes him go crazy knowing you're all his. He loves it even more when you wear the same color lingerie, and he's quick to bend you over his thighs rubbing your clothed swollen clit as he stares at your plump lips as they make an 'o' as you let out sweet sounds.

Bf-Gojo who loves when you get all dolled up for him. The dress your wearing barely covers your ass, it slowly rises up as you walk hand in hand with him so you end up tugging on the ends every so often in an attempt to not flash the whole restaurant but Gojo just smirks at you because he knows he's going to be teasing you for the remainder of your date. He doesn't care that you have an audience his leg moving in between yours to spread you apart. He would be saying things like 'You got all dressed up for me? such a good girl' that goes straight down adding to the wetness between your legs.

Bf-Gojo who although has his big rich life loves the little things like holding your hand in public or when you kiss his cheek, he would hate to admit how it much it makes him blush. He also likes the domestic side of life with you that lets him imagine what your future looks like. He loves coming home to the smell of his favorite food and freshly baked cupcakes.

Bf-Gojo who shows you off to everyone you meet. It only adds to his cocky nature knowing how other people look at you yet they can't have you because you are all his. He would say things like 'Isn't she the most beautiful person in the world' leaving them stuttering not knowing how to answer while you just stand there awkwardly blushing while Gojo shows you off.

Bf-Gojo who adores how easily you get all shy and embarrassed when your bent over the kitchen counter as he pounds into you from behind whispering praises in your ear. He loves how you give into his ploys and he can just fuck you senseless not being able to think about anything but him. 'Satoru I- I can't take it, w-wait' you'd stutter 'Awe baby I know you can, just be a good girl for me okay?' you would only be able to nod in response.

Bf-Gojo who loves sitting with you curled up in his lap while you talk about your future and life in a few years' time. He's already brought you a ring double the amount of your yearly salary that promises he will propose and grow old with you.

Bf-Gojo who slowly spends more time away from work so he can be with you longer. He would be training up his employees and talking to his co-CEOs in order to agree on a 9-5 schedule and a 4-day week so he can propose as soon as he can and have a tight schedule meaning he would be there for you and your future kids <3

part 2

masterlist

[hyukalyptus]

okay love? — yeonjun x fem!reader | bestie!yj gives reader her first orgasm. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. bestfriend!yeonjun, virgin!afab!reader, reader's first orgasm ever, pet names (pretty, love), cunnilingus (f. receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex (pls wear condoms), creampie, infidelity technically, chubby!reader implied. notes. i'm reposting some of my most popular/favorite works from my old blog! this was my most popular one, so enjoy again pls! smut under cut. wc. ~800

when u told him u were nervous bc it was starting to get serious with ur new parter and you think you might take that step with them soon, he almost couldn't believe you've never had an orgasm before? not even by yourself?

he just wanted to help out his friend. that's it. he swears. you tried to explain urself, but i don't know. i've just always been too nervous.

you think you're hearing things when he offers his help—just want you to be prepared is all. you agree, laying down on ur bed and letting him undress you so slowly, pressing his lips to the inside of ur hot thighs because i'm gonna start off really slow, ok? as he teases you with gentle sucks on the outside of ur pussy. you don't know how long he teases you, but he reassures you you can take as long or as little as it takes to cum, okay love?

you don't know why, but ur hips roll and buck, trying to get them up to his mouth. look at you, you wanna cum so bad already and i've barely touched you. tears already forming in your eyes, you can't help but beg yeonjun to please, i don't know what you're planning on doing, but just do it now.

but he already told you. i'm gonna start off really slow, remember? spreading your lips to look at how you're absolutely soaking wet, pretty. placing a few experimental kitten licks around—just barely missing—your clit, your heart beat is in your throat. when he finally licks it though, you moan like you've never moaned before. well really, you never have moaned like that before. you've never had a reason to.

digging into you, he reminds you to talk to me. you gotta talk to me, pretty. you can't form coherent sentences though. you've never felt anything as euphoric or blissful as this and you haven't even cum yet, at lease you don't think you have.

how do i know when i'm gonna cum? he chuckles against your center, squeezing the voluptuous flesh of ur ass before you'll know. i promise. i'm gonna go a little faster now, ok?

but u need an answer, this is all new to you. truthfully something feels like it's missing. feel a bit empty, yeonjun. you don't know what this means, why you feel this way, but it sounds like you want my cock, love. and you assume that's the right answer, because you practically froth at the mouth thinking about his cock inside you. want my cock inside this pretty pussy?

nodding rapidly, you can't help but tug at his joggers, wanting them off as quickly as possible. pushing into as soon as he can, he falls forward, digging into your neck because you're so fucking tight, pretty. such a pretty cunt for me. no one will be able to fill u up like me, huh? it only burns a little at first, but subsides as he keeps fucking you deep, fucking you like prettiest girl you are.

this is all so new to you, but you think you might cum soon, i dunno. gasping, your back arches involuntarily and he rolls his eyes because he just can't believe no one's touched u before and you've never felt any of this before. but he mostly can't believe he hasn't licked your perfectly hardened, plump nipples.

sticking his tongue out before he even reaches you, he licks over one, and you gasp just barely, but not in the way he was hoping. trying the other, you cry out, your legs shaking around his hips because oh, you like that one better, pretty? and he focuses all his energy on fucking you deep, rubbing your clit with his thumb, and licking your favorite nipple.

you can hardly take it any more and he can tell. he can tell ur close. i can feel it. cum for me. cum so fucking good for me, love. just want u to feel so good.

you're nervous again, nervous because you haven't cum yet. should i wait? but he doesn't care—don't worry about me, love. just let go for me, just feel so good for me, that's all i need.

like a command, you let go, legs shaking and trembling, clit pulsating, seeing stars, ears ringing, skin hot and sensitive. you're in a true euphoria and u don't think there's a way you'll ever feel this good again. and frankly, ur pissed you've never felt this way before.

your orgasm triggers his own as he fills you up with his hot cum, feeling it paint ur walls so prettily and warm. you can't get enough.

as you lay next to each other, catching ur breath, you aren't thinking of ur date later that day, all you can think is we're gonna do that again.

[mingtinys]

how flowers bloom and wither

pairing : lee chan x gn!reader , platonic! boo seungkwan x reader

apocalypse!au , exes to lovers , angst , hurt / minimal comfort

warnings : language , death , apocalyptic themes , depictions of wounds and blood , suicidal ideation , this is not a happy ending or story

word count : 6.3 k

requested ? no

a/n : heavily inspired by this juyeon fic that made my cry in my car (p.s. there is a jeonghan ver as well).

Your voice is the first to call his name in months. It's been so long that the cadence of it sounds foreign to his ears. Almost like another language entirely. A cry from the distance, barely audible in a way he easily dismisses it as a hallucination. Perhaps he was finally going mad.

He knows other survivors exist, he'd seen them in nearly every town he scavenged. Though in no reality had he ever assumed any of them knew his name. The world had not been kind enough to spare anyone who knew and loved Lee Chan. They'd all been swept away in the initial outbreak. And with no one tethering him to his own existence, he was no more than a living ghost amongst the ruins.

But then the voice calls again, this time closer. Behind him. Louder.

"Chan? Lee Chan!"

And even stranger, he knows this voice. Better than he knows the sound of his own name. Could pick it out of a crowd, blindfolded and all.

Though he still can't bring himself to believe it. Not even as he turns and your silhouette comes into view against the setting sun, your elongated shadow reaching out for him. Tattered shoes well beyond their usable years slap against the pavement as you sprint.

"Oh my God, Chan!"

It has to be a mirage. You'll pass straight through him like an apparition and the universe will laugh at him for believing another one of its cruel jokes.

Yet still, his arms open, and seconds later your full weight crashes into him. Like a tide breaking the shore, stirring up memories like loose sand in its wake.

It's the first time in months he's been held. Felt the warm touch of anything living, much less the safety of something familiar. Tears fill his eyes instantly as Chan clings to the one thing from his past he could never seem to bury. To what he can only assume is a pity gift from the universe making up for all the times it fucked him over. To you.

Your chest heaves against his as you ask, "Is it you? Is this real?"

Chan himself doesn't know the answer to that.

"I can't believe I found you," you breathe out once the air surrounding you two settles. You haven't let go yet and Chan doesn't want you to. Worried that when you finally do, he'll wake up back in the crumbling shed he'd used for shelter the night before. With his back against a cold, moldy mattress instead of being held by the warmth of a thousand suns. Alone again.

"Please say something," you nervously laugh. Despite the chill in the air, Chan's cheeks are burning up. He's at a loss, far too overwhelmed to produce anything remotely coherent. Though as you peel away to examine him, concern knitting your brows, one word does come to mind.

Wow.

You're still as radiant as he remembered. A diamond amongst the ruins of the world. It looks, for the most part, the universe has been kind to you. Good, he thinks.

"You're not..." Your expression falls. "You're not sick, are you?"

It's the fear in your eyes that finally prompts Chan to push down the lump in his throat. "No!" He rasps, then clears his throat. "No, I'm not sick. Promise."

"Are you hungry?"

Chan looks back at the reason he'd left his shelter in the first place, the rundown mini-mart about a hundred feet away. The stabbing pain in his stomach brings him back down to reality.

"There's nothing worthwhile in there, we already checked."

We?

Your arm extends to point past the mini-mart. Towards a small abandoned town that pokes out just beyond the darkening horizon. "Our shelter is just about a mile that way. Would you–"

He agrees before you've even finished your sentence.

Chan cannot fathom the hope you hold in your heart in a world like this. Not until he meets Seungkwan. The vibrant boy you've been traveling with thus far.

"You can't go around picking up strays."

"He's not a stray, Kwan, he's an old friend. Besides, you were a stray at one point too." You disappear into another room before the boy can argue any further. Leaving him to glower at his new guest.

"If you start acting strange, I'll kill you." Seungkwan points at Chan, though he's not the least bit threatening. His shiny eyes and round face are far too friendly to ever be perceived as intimidating.

Yet Chan humors the boy anyway. "Virus-free, I promise." He raises his hands in surrender.

"And don't touch anything." He motions around the living room, which is surprisingly homey.

When you mentioned you had a shelter nearby, Chan was expecting something a little less... comfortable. Something like the random sheds or raided stores he'd crouch into for just a few hours of shut-eye, never any longer. Or perhaps even a poorly constructed tent made up of various scrap parts. But when you climbed the stairs to a tiny townhouse, one of the better-looking ones amongst the multiple shells of former homes in the neighborhood, Chan almost couldn't believe his eyes. Perhaps this really was all just a dream.

The outside, for the most part, looked pretty decent. There had been some obvious repairs done; trash cleaned from the yard, wooden boards haphazardly nailed over broken windows, a tattered blue tarp covering a large section of the roof, and Chan could just barely make out remnants of graffiti that couldn't be scrubbed away. But the blue paint was hardly peeling and the stone steps had only a few cracks.

When it came to the inside, one word came to mind. Charming. None of the furniture matches, meaning either the previous owner hadn't cared for aesthetics or you and Seungkwan had at some point scavenged the surrounding houses in search of the least fucked up looking decor. Even then, it was really just the bare essentials. A surprisingly comfortable couch, two rocking chairs that look as though the wood had been chewed by squirrels, a metal center table, and a couple bookshelves filled with various novels, picture frames of strangers, and knickknacks.

Down the short hallway to the left are two closed doors. Of which he assumes is a single bedroom and bath respectively. Behind him, where you had disappeared to, is a door he'd quickly caught a glimpse of the kitchen through.

Most notably, however, against the back wall of the living room is a stone fireplace. Ablaze with such life it fully illuminates the space, providing a much-needed warmth as the brisk night rolls in. Chan watches it dance over the mound of logs, completely entranced until that same lovely voice from before calls his name once more.

"All we really have left from our last supply run is tuna, I hope that's okay." In your hands is a bowl with a small portion of rice and half a can of tuna, along with a glass of water. It's no five-star meal, but Chan's mouth still waters at the sight. And better yet, it's warm. He can't remember the last time he had a meal that wasn't a can of cold mystery mush or a granola bar.

He half expects Seungkwan to gripe about him taking something as precious in this world as food. But the boy snorts and a teasing smile creeps its way onto his lips. "Poor kid looks like he'll start drooling any second, I think tuna is more than okay."

He's right, tuna and rice is more than okay. In fact, it's the best damn thing he's ever had in his life. Even as he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, it only gets better. It isn't until every morsel of food has vanished from the bowl that Chan finally acknowledges his drink. Gulping the clear, luke-warm, liquid down in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you," he breaths out.

"So what are your plans? Are you leaving in the morning?" Seungkwan promptly asks.

Oh.

A chasm opens in Chan's stomach. Right, he thinks, How could he be so naive? Sure, the two of you knew each other. But it's been what, three years? Three years of the two of you living your own lives, growing, becoming new people. Almost a full one of those years spent fighting to survive. You didn't even owe him a meal to begin with, much less a place to stay. And, not to mention, Seungkwan doesn't know him from a hole in the wall.

He isn't sure why he assumed you'd stick by his side. But he'd sure hoped you would.

You have an equally solemn look on your face. "Right, you probably have people you need to get back to. They'll be worried if you stay too long."

"No, actually, it's just me."

Please. Chan silently pleads. Please don't leave me alone again.

You lock eyes with Seungkwan. A silent conversation between the two of you has Chan's heart pounding against his ribs.

"Can I talk to you?" Seungkwan motions you to follow him down the hall and into the solo bedroom.

Minutes feel like hours; and no matter how hard he tries, Chan can't decipher anything from the muffled whispers. It's just a flurry of back and forth until it stops with Seungkwan letting out a long sigh.

When Chan sees your nervous, fidgeting, figure appear with Seungkwan in tow, he starts mentally preparing for a no.

"There's only one bedroom," Seungkwan states, arms crossed. "So we'll have to rearrange the sleeping arrangements—"

"I'll sleep anywhere," Chan immediately bargains. "I can take the couch—"

"Absolutely not." The older boy jabs a finger at him, his stare menacing. "That couch is the nicest thing we have, if anything it's mine."

That is perfectly fine with Chan. In fact, he'd take the termite-chewed wooden floor if that's what it would take. "Does this mean..?"

"Yes," the boy exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, but the action doesn't feel malicious. More like a brother teasing his younger siblings. "You're lucky, you had a very reliable source vouch for you."

It feels like Chan can breathe for the first time since this whole shit-storm began. The weight that lifts from his chest makes him feel as though he's floating. And as your soft gaze catches him, he sees it. That indomitable glimmer of hope humanity has to offer. A light at the end of a dark tunnel. Security wrapped up in a warm, fluffy blanket.

A second chance to be alive.

Seungkwan, as Chan quickly learns, had dreams of being a singer back before. There's rarely been a quiet moment in the week since you found Chan. If he's doing repairs, he's humming. If he's taking inventory, he's softly mumbling along to some tune. If he's sat by the fire at night, his voice carries beyond the walls and into the night.

It's strange. Chan hadn't realized just how quiet being alone was until now. But you enjoy Seungkwan's voice, and it eases you to sleep on Chan's shoulder. So he enjoys it as well.

"Are they asleep?" He asks, letting his song teeter off, voice just barely audible above the crackling logs.

Chan looks down at the slow rise and fall of your chest. He smiles fondly, dropping his shoulder a tad lower to not strain your neck. By now, he's finally gotten over the disbelief of his luck in finding you— well, more so you finding him. Deciding to no longer question the probability of it all and simply cherish the feeling you bring him.

"Yeah, I think so."

Similarly, Chan has also learned that as much of a tough guy act as Seungkwan puts on, he's got an incredibly soft heart. It's pertinent in his gaze and the discreet ways he dotes on anyone around him. Bickering with Chan to wear something warmer even though Spring is around the corner or fussing at you to take an extra portion of rations.

In an alternate life, Chan likes to think he and the boy could've been life-long friends.

"How long were you out there alone?" He muses, a curious look on his face.

"Since the first outbreak," Chan answers casually. Though, Seungkwan's eyes go wide in horror.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, why? How long were you?"

"Three weeks, maybe." He shrugs. "Give or take a few days. We ran into each other pretty early on and we've stuck together ever since. Found this place about four months ago and tried to make it feel somewhat normal."

"Oh, that's nice." Chan forgets that for some, life kept moving. Even as society crumbled, humanity persisted. Some in vain, some succeeding, and others, like himself, not at all.

"Can I ask something else?" Seungkwan pulls him from his thoughts. There's a prying curiosity that's scribbled all over his face. Grinning like a schoolgirl with fresh gossip to tell her friends. Chan decides to entertain his curious mind, nodding.

"How do you two know each other?" He gestures at the two of you curled up on the couch. "Like, what's the story there?"

Chan's heart drops straight into his ass and like a reflex, he glances down to ensure you're really asleep. The two of you haven't exactly gotten the chance to talk about everything quite yet. So as of now, he isn't sure where you stand. He decides the more vague the better.

"We met in our third year of university. Their roommate was friends with my roommate."

Seungkwan squints his eyes, visibly displeased with that answer. "And?"

"And..." Chan toys with the material of his pants. "We dated. Two years. Just... didn't work out in the end."

Chan seriously wishes Seungkwan's facial expressions weren't so telling. That way he'd be able to at least pretend he was getting out of this conversation any time soon. But still, the boy persists, nagging him about the who's, what's, when's, where's, and why's until Chan caves. Explaining everything from the stolen glances that started it all, to the teary-eyed bittersweet end.

He vividly remembers the way regret pooled in his chest the moment your front door shut. Making his chest feel cold and empty, a feeling that stuck around nearly every day after. Reminding him of what he let go of for the past three years. The conversation plays on in a loop in his head, and since then, he's thought up about a thousand ways he would've done differently.

"Are you saying you want to break up?" Your voice was so small it ripped Chan's heart in two. 

"No! I just— I mean, but... shouldn't we?"

"Our lives started growing in different directions faster than we could keep up." He explains to Seungkwan, who's been uncharacteristically quiet. Not once stopping to interject his opinion or pop in another question. "They were offered a really good internship a few cities away. I was given the opportunity to be mentored by a renowned choreographer. We'd both be so busy. It didn't seem fair to hold each other back from our dreams. There wasn't much of a choice."

But that's not true. Chan ripped the bandaid off long before it could prove to stand the test of time because he was scared. He assumed the love you felt for him would slowly wither and die with the distance. Drawn out in a slow and painful process he couldn't bear the burden of. So he ran, like a coward, and left you to deal with the fallout by yourself.

It's funny, how the universe deals out karma.

"Probably the dumbest decision I've ever made."

Seungkwan hums, relaxing back into his wooden rocking chair, seemingly deep in thought. A silence settles over the room, only the sound of dying embers softly crackling fills the air.

You stir next to him, nose cutely scrunched up as you search for a more comfortable position. Chan hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you to fully lean against him, being extra cautious not to accidentally jostle you awake. You finally settle, and he can't help but notice your body still fits against his perfectly. Just like to used to.

And when Chan lifts his head back to meet Seungkwan's eyes, he catches the tail end of a fond smile. He rises from the chair, making his way around behind the sofa.

"You made it back, that's all that matters." He whispers, hand on Chan's shoulder. "You don't get a lot of second chances in life— much less in the middle of the apocalypse. Maybe it's time you stop just trying to survive and start letting yourself live. Whatever that looks like for you."

Spring rounds the corner like an old friend. Marking officially one year since the world went to shit and bringing with it much-needed rain in the form of rolling storms. One brews on the horizon, dark clouds gradually closing in on the afternoon sun. The cool breeze feels refreshing against Chan's damp skin. A pleasant contrast to the heavy bag slung over his shoulder, filled with scavenged treasures from the latest scout.

"You know, I offered to carry it halfway," you tease, significantly less out of breath than Chan on your trek back home. The exterior of the townhouse hadn't fared well with the harsh storms, yet it's a welcomed sight nonetheless.

"Yeah, but that would require him relinquishing about this much pride," Seungkwan laughs while pinching his fingers together, squinting through the narrow gap between them.

"It's not even that heavy," Chan scoffs, and if you clock his lie, you don't make it known.

"Whatever you say, golden boy," Seungkwan snickers, the corner of his lip quirked up in a smirk before veering off to the small plot just to the left of the entrance steps.

Seungkwan, arguably the most excited for Spring to arrive, had taken up gardening. Plowing up the soil with a water-logged wooden shovel and planting various packs of seeds he'd once found on a scout. They were mostly just flowers, anything useful like fruits and veggies having already been snatched up by other scavengers. However, he'd been lucky enough to find one packet of tomato seeds, one of green onion seeds, and another of squash seeds. The boy has a surprisingly green thumb, having created a flourishing garden in just a month.

"It's looking beautiful, Seungkwan. Another few weeks and we may actually have something to eat that isn't out of a can." You praise, admiring the colorful arrangement as well.

Sure, the fruits and veggies are nice, but Chan much prefers the cluster of voluminous purple hyacinths. Their vibrant color reminds him of the rich sunsets he'd use as a child to gauge when to return home for dinner.

He swiftly plucks a single bloom from the arrangement and places it behind your ear. You smile at the gesture, and it somehow shines brighter than the flower itself. A sight he believes is capable of parting the gray clouds stretching across the sky.

"Stop killing my babies, Lee Chan." Seungkwan chastises, annoyance evident in his tone.

"Sorry," he sheepishly grins, remembering Seungkwan's no-touching rule he had applied to the garden.

In the distance, there's a low rumbling that draws your attention to the sky. "We should go in before it starts pouring." You take Chan's hand, tugging him inside while his heart beats out of his chest. You call out for Seungkwan as well, urging him that his babies will be fine in the rapidly approaching storm.

Rain slowly begins to patter against the rafters the second the front door squeaks shut. Crescendoing to a downpour within a matter of minutes. Sounds like the three of you are in for a long one tonight.

It was hard to notice at first. The occasional slip-ups here and there. Easy enough to blame the rising Summer heat on Seungkwan's mood swings. Even if the boy had been more readily agitated lately, his bubbly moments stuck around in an abundance that excused the outbursts.

Though Chan can't quite get over that look on your face the first time Seungkwan snapped at you. Something about his bush of hydrangeas being disturbed despite you insisting you hadn't laid so much as a finger on his garden. But the moment tears slipped from your irises, Seungkwan crumbled. His eyes blown wide in horror as the realization hit. He uttered endless apologies, begging for forgiveness until you assured him everything was okay.

And to his credit, he hadn't had an outburst that big since. But still, you made sure to be extra cautious around his garden from then on out.

The red patches painting his arms are harder to ignore, though. Especially with the incessant noise of nails obsessively itching at dry skin.

"Are you okay?" Chan asks, finally voicing his concerns after watching the boy go at his skin with an inhuman determination for the past half hour. The sight reminding him of a rabid dog infested with fleas. With little care for its own health, left only with the insatiable urge to make the itching stop.

Seungkwan's head snaps up with feral eyes, though they dissolve into cheery crescents quick enough to fool Chan into believing he was just imagining things. Perhaps he'd been a little too on guard around his friend. The sweltering heat surely didn't help his nerves.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "I must've gotten into some poison ivy, it's been driving me mad."

It only got worse.

The scratching.

It keeps Chan awake in the late night hours. That dry sound echoing in his head over and over and over and over. And during the day, despite it being the peak of Summer, Seungkwan wears long sleeves. They do well in muffling the sound and hiding whatever visuals resulted from the night before. Yet, he forgets to scrub the dried blood from under his nails.

There's an unease that settles in Chan's chest and makes a nest there. A feeling that comes in waves, yet never fully leaves him. It consumes his thoughts and taints the air in his lungs until he feels like he may choke on it. Unable to breathe a single word about his worries without accidentally manifesting them into fruition. Because perhaps nothing is awry. Perhaps Chan is the one slowly losing his mind.

After all, you've yet to mention anything. Content with humoring Seungkwan's better moments in spite of his worst.

Perhaps, Chan is still stuck in his mirage.

It happened again.

Seungkwan snapped and this time Chan had to intervene.

Over his garden again.

The once glorious flowers were sad and wilting, through no fault of anyone's, but the elements. The heat was harsh on them and there hadn't been enough rain in a while to revive them. Not to mention, Seungkwan simply hadn't been tending to them as much as he thought he had. He spent most of his days now obsessing over illusions instead.

Swore he saw spiders in the rations. Heard scratching in the walls. Had caught shadows of looters pacing outside at night.

You called it dehydration.

But he'd somehow gotten it into his head you'd been poisoning the soil when he wasn't looking. He swung the front door open so hard it nearly flew off its hinges, yelling obscenities about how you betrayed him. How rotten and horrid you were for killing the one thing that'd given him any semblance of joy. Chan swears he's never seen someone so unhinged as Seungkwan in that moment.

All it took was three large steps in your direction for Chan to brace himself in front of you. However, all it really took to freeze Seungkwan in his steps was his name. Loud and firm. Lighting a clarity in his eyes that's been missing for a few days now. He ushers the boy outside with haste. Too afraid to look back at your crumbling face.

Seungkwan collapses down on the stone steps. He pulls his knees to his chest and digs his palms into his eyes, hard. "I fucked up, didn't I?" He whimpers.

Chan doesn't know what to say. He did. But confirming it when he's in such a state seems cruel. And he doesn't care to twist the knife any further. He just takes a seat next to what's left of his friend and lays a comforting hand on his back.

"I'm scared." Seungkwan's head tips back to the sky. Chan had always been under the assumption that Seungkwan was oblivious to his deteriorating state. But the steady stream of tears down the boy's cheeks says otherwise.

"I can feel my mind slowly becoming not my own."

"Maybe it's not—"

"I already tried telling myself that." Chan's heart sinks as the boy hikes up his sleeves. Revealing the angry red tracks and rust-colored scabs covering a majority of his forearms. Some wounds still look fresh, and painfully deep.

"That's the first symptom, right? Feeling like there's ants under your skin. Being easily irritated. Foggy memories, whole days missing..." He looks ahead at the setting sun. "I'm already seeing things. Was it one or two months the broadcast said the infected have once those start?"

Chan tries to remember back to when his radio crackled to life for the first time. He's pretty sure it's one.

"I can't remember."

Seungkwan pushes a bitter laugh through his nostrils. "Me either."

Chan glances at the sad plot of greenery beside him. He frowns at the way the tulips droop and their petals hang limp. At least those who are still trying to hold on. Desperate to escape the same fate as their counterparts that have already begun decaying into the soil.

He looks back to Seungkwan and wonders what it's like. To have the tulips weep for you. For them to bow their heads and shed their petals like tears. He also wonders if you'll grieve for Seungkwan as gracefully as they do.

"Promise me one thing?" Seungkwan whispers. His eyes already look like they're glazing over again.

"Anything."

He speaks your name with longing. "Take care of them, yeah? I know it seems like they have their shit together, but that's not how it always was."

"What do you mean?" Chan asks, skin crawling. But Seungkwan continues to stare ahead, eyes focused on who knows what in the distance. He blinks slowly, "It's not my story to tell. Just... promise."

"I promise. Don't worry, it's not something you even have to ask."

"The garden, too." His lips lift at the corners. Chan thinks it's a smile, but it's too uncanny to recognize. "If you're taking requests."

He agrees, partly to provide Seungkwan with what little peace of mind he can offer him, but also because he already has been. Chan tries on occasion to care for the sad little plants. Wetting the soil with what little water he can spare.

Part of him naively hoped that maybe somehow, some way, if the garden could be nursed back to its former glory, so could Seungkwan. But deep down, Chan has learned to tell the difference between a dream and reality by now.

And the reality is, Seungkwan reeks of borrowed time.

The world stole your smile when it stole Seungkwan. It ripped his soul from your grasp as Chan held you in his. Kicking and screaming.

Endless tears streaming down his cheeks as he fought to hold you back. Your pleas grew more desperate and wrangled. Mixing with the garbled, wretched, shrieks of your friend. Fingers clawing at his eyes. The virus embedded so deep in his brain he was no longer Seungkwan.

Just another host.

Your voice was the last to call Seungkwan's name that day. Raspy and hollow as you begged for his life. Begged the universe to not take the last ray of sunshine the world had to offer. Begged Seungkwan to fight just one more day. Begged Chan to let you save him despite all hope having set when the sun did. The scratches you'd left on his forearms remained a week after. But the hole Seungkwan's presence left has yet to fade.

Neither of you spoke of the boy in that time. He still doesn't know if that's for better or worse. Chan's terrified you'll shatter if he so much as whispers the boy's name. But to act like he never existed in the wake of it... well, that just doesn't feel right either.

But Chan knows there's no proper way to grieve. He figured that out at the beginning. He'd had damn near a year to mourn everyone he ever loved, you've only had a week. He knows with time, acceptance will come. But it kills him not knowing how to help.

So instead, Chan does the hard stuff.

He buries Seungkwan. Next to his garden, so that next Spring he can watch it grow. He stacks rocks as a makeshift headstone and plucks dried, stiff asphodel from the garden to make it look neat. He rearranges the bookshelf into a tiny shrine of Seungkwan's things. His favorite books he'd read over and over. A silver ring, with some date Chan doesn't know the meaning of carved into it. A liquor bottle that he used as a makeshift vase with the last flowers he picked still in it. Long dead, but the petals somehow still holding on. Replaces one of the bronze picture frames of strangers with a photo he found tucked away in Seungkwan's bag. One of him and two other people he assumes are his parents.

And when he's done, he lights a candle, the flame drawing you out like a moth.

"What is this?" you croak. It's the first you've spoken to Chan since it happened.

"Something to honor him," Chan whispers, keeping his gaze locked on the flickering light. He's too scared to see your reaction. Afraid you'll break down again. Afraid you'll hate it and scream that he has no right to mourn someone you loved for longer. Afraid that if he sees your tears flowing, he won't be able to stop his own.

Because he also knows part of you still resents him for that night. For grabbing your waist and stopping your momentum from hurtling towards Seungkwan. Robbing you of the chance to hold and comfort your friend one last time. Your screams echo in his head as a reminder whenever your gaze refuses to meet his or you shrug away from his touch.

But then your head falls to his shoulder like an olive branch stretching across a battlefield. Your sniffles break through the silence. Chan hesitantly pulls you closer, and when you don't flinch away, he does even more so until your full weight is against him.

When Seungkwan was here, there was rarely a moment of silence. But now, the house, and you, are quiet. And all Chan can hear are the sounds of heartbreak. Never before had he thought it could be so incredibly loud.

The cold air sneaks in sometime around mid-November. Bringing with it longer nights and temperatures low enough to warrant nightly fires again.

You haven't talked much since the night you cried your heart out on Chan's shoulder. Operating more like a zombie replicating past routines from life before. Wake up. Scavenge. Eat. Sleep. So when you offer up the first ounce of interest in something other than your daily routine, Chan nearly jumps out of his skin.

"I miss the ocean," you mumble, solemn eyes looking down at the crackling fire. The tip of your nose red from the chill.

"We can go if you want... If it would make you happy." He says though he'd settle for content. To bring you back, he'd do anything.

You nod. "Yeah, I'd like that."

And Chan makes it happen.

Maps out the closest beach. Rigs up two rusty old bikes he found in a shed. Packs enough provisions just in case. All for the sake of maybe returning with a sliver of the person you used to be.

The two of you easily find the rocky formation looking over the dark sea, waves raging below. It's here, that Chan truly realizes just how much of a shell you've become of your former self. The way you inch closer and closer to the sharp edge is lifeless. Like a magnet being pulled at with no will of your own. It lodges a dagger of dread through the center of his chest.

"Don't go so close, you could slip." Chan doesn't know if you can't hear him over the crashing waves below or if you simply choose not to. But your feet keep moving and Chan's feel cemented to the ground.

"That's close enough!" He calls.

Again, nothing.

Your toes hang over the edge now, hands in your jacket pockets. Raging waves slam against the cliff, reaching up for you. You close your eyes and point your nose to the sky.

Wind rushes around Chan. His shoes slip on the slick rocks below as instinct takes charge of his momentum while his brain remains frozen in panic. His lungs refuse to work until his arm can hook around your torso. Yanking you back with such a force it throws the both of you off balance. It isn't until his back meets solid rock that he finally gasps in a sputtering breath. The dull throbbing is instant, but the full weight of you atop his chest is comforting.

Chan desperately scrambles to collect you in his arms. Pulling your back against his chest so that he can curl around you like a protective barrier from the world.

"I wasn't going to jump." You whisper. But he feels no comfort from your empty words.

"Please don't make me lose you twice." He pleads like a child, rocking you in his grasp. The salty spray from the ocean mixes with his tears until he can't tell what is what. Right now, the only thing he's certain of is the one in his grasp. The feeling of you in his arms, safe, and he doesn't want to ever lose that. Call it selfish if you must. Lee Chan will wear that title proudly.

There's a rush of déjà vu as you crumble, muttering Seungkwan's name between wretched sobs, nails deep in his forearms. Sobbing about how you miss him, how unfair it is, everything you've been holding in since. Chan holds you tighter. Scared you'll slip away like the tide. Like Seungkwan did. Plunged into cold, thrashing darkness.

He prays to whatever merciful forces have forsaken him to please not do the same to you.

It's a silent trip back to the townhouse and you all but collapse from exhaustion the second you're through the door. Dragging yourself over to the couch and immediately curling into a ball. Chan takes the liberty of lighting the fire before sitting down beside you. He opens his arms, and to his surprise, you accept, letting your head fall into his lap. His arm securely drapes over your torso, though you're quick to cradle his hand. Hugging it to your chest so that his palm can feel the rhythmic thumping of your heart.

Chan lets out a long-held sigh, counting each beat like a lullaby. Then focuses on the rise and fall of your chest. Letting the steady swells ease the adrenaline from his system.

For a second, life is okay. Happy, even. Like how it was back before the world ended. Before he broke your heart. When he didn't care about anything except you and passing chemistry.

"I'm scared to lose you." When you say it, it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. "I always thought maybe, because we'd made it this far, that meant we were somehow immune. That the worst was over for us."

You pause to take a deep breath. But Chan doesn't push, simply thankful you've finally decided to let him shoulder the weight you carry.

"But if Seungkwan can die, that means you can too. Then who do I have?"

"I'd never leave–"

"You can't promise that," you drop to a whisper. Compensating for the waver in your voice. And you're right, he can't. Not in a world as cruel as this.

But he wants to.

"I don't believe in this world anymore. Not after what it did to him."

"Can you believe in me?"

Your answer doesn't come in the verbal form. Nor does it come quickly, which makes Chan think he's officially lost you. But then your fingers thread with his, squeezing in a way that he can only describe as feeling like pure hope.

Chan can't remember when the turning point was. All he knows is that today, months after the ocean, life feels peaceful once more. The Spring breeze is gentle against his skin as he lays in the soft grass with your head on his stomach. Surrounded by the aroma of the newly bloomed tulips that far outshine the rest of the garden.

He doesn't have as nearly green of a thumb as Seungkwan did, but he's proud. The garden is lush, green, and full of life. A little chaotic, but beautiful nonetheless.

Chan had even managed to revive the hydrangeas Seungkwan was so fond of.

You point to clouds with upturned lips, remarking on their resemblance to various animals. It's not the first time he's been lucky enough to catch you smiling in the subsequent months. But he knows to cherish each one more than he once did.

There's still a chill to the spring air and Chan tugs at his sleeves. Ignoring the incessant urge to animalistically claw at his arm. At the itch so deep under his skin, it feels like it's in the bone.

[saintzweig]

ldr bf patrick phone sex!!!!

– cw: daddy kink / dubcon ig?

– might or might not have been taken from my own experience uhhhh yes sure

'calling in 10'

you stared at the text with a giddy smile, you had just sent your boyfriend patrick a lewd photo out of nowhere, while he was at the gym in the hotel he's staying in. it didn't take long for him to ring your phone, which you immediately answered. you bit your lip, placing the phone against your ear, "hi"

"you're cruel, do you know that?" his voice is low, you hear him drop his bag and keys through the phone. you let out a small, insincere apology to which he replies, "no, you're not"

you hear shuffling, most likely him getting comfortable in bed. "stroking myself, darling. let me hear your pretty noises, hm?"

you whined softly at his order, nodding even though he can't see you. you bring your fingers up to your lips, coating them with your saliva before bringing it down into your shorts, squeezing your thighs as you feel the cool substance come in contact with your throbbing clit. "mmfh– pat"

"that's not my name now, is it?" you mewl, shifting from your position to all fours, bringing your chest down to the bed while your ass up in the air, "need you daddy" you tease your hole, pretending it's him rubbing his tip on your cunt. "so so wet for you already"

his breath shudders, humming softly as he listens to you. "so fucking dirty, you miss me that much?" and you nod, voice soft as you cry out in agreement. "mm, miss you so much"

"god, fuck– miss your pretty hole, darling. miss the way you squeeze around my cock" you slipped two digits in, moaning as you feel your gummy muscles stretch around your small fingers. "feels so good, daddy. wish it was you"

your moans harmonized through the phone, your fingers moving faster inside you wanting to reach the level of pleasure his cock gives you, "doesn't feel the same" you whine, "want your cock, please. need it"

"i know, baby, i know. i'll be home soon." he grunts, "you can have me then, i promise. now, why don't you add another finger, hm?"

you shake your head, whining a no. "don't think i can fit another one, daddy"

"yes you can, darling. i know you can, you take my cock so fucking well i'm sure your tiny fingers will fit" like a good girl, you obliged. cautiously slipping another finger in and whining as you feel your muscles stretch. "d-done"

"good girl" his breath is getting heavier, you can hear the way he's furiously stroking himself if you listen close enough. "want you to take your other hand and touch your chest for me, hm? squeeze yourself for me"

you look like an absolute slut right now, head on the pillow and back arched as your hand is intensely moving from under you, your other hand groping your soft breast, rolling your erect peak between your fingers.

"a-ah, s'too much, so deep" you gasp, fingers covered in your slick.

"come on, baby. you can do better than that. you wanna make me cum, right? go deeper, faster" he groans

"nonono, can't."

"fuck– yes, you can. you don't have a choice, pretty girl" your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head as you hear him say those words, mind fuzzy. you reluctantly followed his command, whining at the intense pleasure. "ah– ah, shit daddy"

"such a good fucking girl, that's it baby. doing so good f'me" patrick's struggling to speak coherently now, babbling whatever comes into his mind as he chases his climax. "love it when you're fucked dumb baby, so stupid for my cock. and i'm not even there" he laughs, a strangled noise of pleasure coming out of his through.

you can only whine as you listen to him, fingers moving faster in and out of you, mimicking the way he fucks you.

"yesyesyes, fuck darling. 'm so close, g'na cum, baby." he gasps, "you're gonna make daddy cum"

"mmmfh– please daddy, want your cum filling me up. want to be full of it, daddy"

you hear him grunt and gasp as he reaches his climax, both of your breathing heavy. you smile, a warm feeling settling in your stomach. you didn't get to cum, but listening to him be so affected by you even when you're miles apart is much more fulfilling.

"i guess my workout's done for today" he playfully sighs, making you giggle. "i love you, darling."

[konpetti]

☆ ・hcs: cuddles +

ft. tsukinaga leo, sena izumi .｡.:*

note: leo's were just twitter musings that i transferred here. anyway first post?!:?:!:? thats insane. can you tell who i went overboard with

･:*+. tsukinaga leo

he prefers to sleep face to face, because he really wants to look at you since you're just so... pretty... to him.... but in this case, if you prefer the usual spooning, he'll gladly wrap you in a comfortable embrace from behind.

he'd either bury his face in your hair, your nape, or rest his chin on your shoulder (if he doesn't plan on sleeping right now.) either way, he hugs you tight around your stomach.

"you're so warm," he'd mumble sleepily. that might be the last thing you hear him speak that's coherent to your ears before he drifts off to sleep.

but if you like/ are ok with the embrace position, he'd definitely go for it. next thing you know it, the top of his head is placed right under your chin, and his arms are wrapped softly around your mid-back.

he falls asleep quicker this way since he thinks your embrace is comforting and warm... he prefers you play with his hair instead of petting him, honestly. as much he wants to spend more time in your arms awake, the sleep is... too strong...

wahaha, inspiration is flowing... (asleep)

having trouble sleeping? can't really sleep, a bit (or very) stressed, or just want him to? he'll sing you to sleep— a simple hum of his newest piece, a popular knights song, or just any song you want him to hum, he'll try ! he'd caress your back or arm gently, attempting to lull you to sleep.

♪───

mornings usually start off warm. leo is hugging you firmly yet gently, so you can't really move unless you manage to pry leo's arms off you (difficult)

if you wake up first, good luck trying to get out. waking up leo isn't that difficult, it's getting him to stop clinging onto you is. he'd protest, saying "you're too comfortable" and "but i don't want to!" but after a bit of convincing, he'll eventually let you go. but he'll look a bit sad as you get up. go apologize right now. give him a kiss. (he understands though— he'll be right back in spirits after a minute or two. a kiss speeds that up though)

if he wakes up first, he actually doesn't have the heart to wake you up. i mean, look,,, you're so cute... in his arms,,, really, you? he has you? that's just such a big honor. he gets really sappy in the mornings ignore him /j but still, he really can't... but he also wants to kiss you. what does that make? him showering you with kisses first thing in the morning. you know he woke up first if your face feels a bit ticklish because he isn't holding back at all! sorry, he just felt like kissing you (like he always does.)

...can he have another hug? wahaha ♪

･:*+. sena izumi

he's more of the half-spoon kind of person. him laying on his back, and you hugging him on your side. he'd reach his hand out to touch the top of your head or shoulders or really anywhere you're most comfortable with.

though, in the middle of the night, he ends up turning to his side too and embracing you gently. there's enough room for both of you to breathe, but also close enough to be able to press yourself against him.

he hugs you in this kind-of protective position, with his arms loosely wrapped around your neck-shoulders and a hand on your head. you might feel him pull you closer if you're a light sleeper.

sometimes he's alright with this going vice versa— him pressing up against you as you embrace him gently. he doesn't move that much in his sleep, so you might find him still clinging onto you in the morning.

it will take a bit of getting used to and getting comfortable with physical affection when it comes to izumi, but enough nights together makes cuddling practically routine to him. i mean, what's better— the warmth of a pillow, or the warmth of his lover? the answer is pretty clear for him here

the pillow /j no no it's you i promise

when he comes home late and finds you already asleep, he'll get in bed after his night routine and wrap you in an embrace. even if he can't spend that much time with you due to work, this is one way he's making up for it. (don't mention it to him though— it might get him just a little bit flustered and also try to defend his ways of affection...)

♪───

mornings usually start out cold. izumi had already gotten up and kissed you goodbye in your sleep, but on the rare chance that it's his off day and can sleep for however long he decides to, you might find him tightening his grip on you (not to the point of suffocation, but just enough for you not to leave)

if he wakes up first, he'll get up immediately and get ready for work. not before the little voice in his head comments how cute you are asleep. and how maybe it would be nice to stay in bed until you wakes up. it almost convinces him sometimes, you know? he gives in during his free days though— it's just... he rarely gets this kind of opportunity to spend time with you and really savor the mornings. he wouldn't wake you with a kiss— usually it's through a shake and a bit of light scolding— unless you start protesting about how you don't want to let go. although it's just a simple, quick kiss, it's enough for him to finally get you up.

if you wake up first, getting out is easy. just unwrap his hands around you and there! izumi's easy to wake, so if you need to get out of bed already, there's no hassle. do you really want to wake him though? he's embracing you so softly, he looks so much more peaceful than when he's awake...

(he'd mildly complain if you give him a kiss in the mornings saying you could've woken him up another way. but if you chicken out before you could give him one, he'll lean in himself saying "do i really have to do it myself?")

maybe it won't be so bad to spend a few more minutes here...

[yasmindifference]

Trick or treat!!

this takes place a few weeks after my dreamsharing fic, just because ♡

Even after several weeks of sharing dreams with Tim, it still always takes Jason a while to realize he's dreaming. Shared dreams are more vivid and coherent than regular dreams, but he still needs that something to tip him off that it's not real life.

This time, it's having the taste of blood hit his tongue that does it--specifically, enjoying the taste of blood. It's so good that even after he realizes this is a dream, he can't stop for several long seconds. He drinks and drinks and drinks, savoring the taste and feel, the buzz that floods his whole body with every pull. The warmth of skin against his lips, under his hands, against his chest. The scent of Tim's favorite soap. The way Tim always moans when he's right on the edge.

Then, finally, he leans back, studying Tim's glazed eyes. Jason's fully supporting his weight, thanks to the way Tim swooned at the first bite. He's draped over Jason's arm like a heroine on the cover of a romance novel.

(Good thing they can't feel pain in these dreams, or his back would be killing him.)

"Is this your dream or mine?" Jason asks, licking some lingering blood off his bottom lip. Now that he's paying attention, he realizes he's wearing a ridiculous cape and a billowy white shirt straight out of a bad vampire movie.

Well, he's half wearing a billowy shirt. There are a lot of strategic rips along his pecs and abs.

"Mine," Tim says with a suspiciously dreamy smile. Almost as suspicious as how fast that answer was. Jason narrows his eyes.

"...Is this a kink?"

"I saw The Lost Boys at a very impressionable age, shut up," he says without heat.

"I'm not judging," Jason promises, raising his free hand in a show of innocence. Still, he can't help pointing out, "I'm just saying, choosing to cast the guy who came back from the dead as the vampire--"

"Shut up and bite me again."

happy halloween! 🎃👻🦇 i’ve decided to use this prompt generator for every ‘trick or treat’ i get. this prompt was Make one of your characters either a vampire, a werewolf, or a zombie. (jason hits both because he's an overachiever.) i hope you enjoyed! ♡♡

[one-night-story]

I Don't Know You, But I Would Love to Meet You (Jack Hughes)

a/n: I wanted to get this not under the wire, but I can't help but feel like it a little? Which, sorry about that. this is for @writingonleaves by way of @wyattjohnston 's annual winter fic exchange! I hope you enjoy it! this was as always a fun challenge to write. title is from "We Should Be Friends" by Josh Ramsay, which is v cute. (also it's so long oh jeez)

There’s probably a certain age when you’re fairly certain you’re “too old” to be waking up on strangers couches with little memory of A) who’s couch you ended up on and B) how exactly you got there.

I don’t think I’ve quite hit that age yet, so I think I’m in the clear for the understandable confusion I woke up with as the morning sun streamed in from the floor to ceiling windows. 

Shit, not only was I in an unfamiliar apartment, whoever was renting the place was clearly richer than my blood. 

Good news: my phone was on the coffee table and attached to a charger, so whoever I’d crashed with was a benevolent host, which boded well for my continued situation. I checked my texts and it seems last night me had been coherent and just exhausted, seeing as I remembered to text my roommate that I wasn’t coming home saying I was crashing “with friends” and that I’d text her when I got back on campus. 

Huh, promising.

It at least meant she wouldn’t send out a search party consisting of our friend group, their friends, and the National Guard. All incredibly good things for my continued health and existence. 

Now, to figure out who’s apartment I’d just woken up in. 

Carefully, I stretched out my legs and shifted the blankets onto my lap when I realized I at the very least had the sense to not try and sleep in jeans but had left my “nice enough to go out” t-shirt on, and scanned the area. A couple of photos on the wall of a relatively decent sized family, siblings at the bare minimum as they popped up in several photos. Rich, but a bachelor as no one with any interior design sense had popped by to huck a colored throw pillow into the mix, and that was assuming their lease didn’t allow for wall color changes. 

Honestly, I was coming up empty. 

None of my friends were this rich, hell if they were I feel like it would’ve come up way sooner, not to mention why the hell would they bother commuting to campus when they probably could leverage online classes and still come out with a degree. 

I was just about to fashion enough of a blanket skirt to at least try and find my pants so I could start rifling through a mail stack when there was creaking coming from down the hall. Well, maybe I’d have an answer soon enough. I readjusted the blanket a little so I could look over from where I thought the creaking was coming from and was greeted by… okay calling it a familiar face might’ve been a stretch, but so would the text to my roommate saying I was staying with a friend, so somehow that was two birds with one stone. 

I did recognize him, which was an improvement over my worst fear, he was a friend of a friend of a brother of a friend. Which put me at four degrees of separation, and raised my “why the fuck did I crash here” hackles, but the fact that I was on a couch and not in someone’s bed felt safe, even if it wasn’t all there yet. 

He didn’t seem to be fully coherent yet, as he rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his, admittedly very pretty, hair so I tried to hold back a large laugh when he startled at seeing me sitting on his couch.

“Hi,” I said with a sheepish wave. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair soon enough,” I remarked. What I really needed to do was find out where the hell half-dead me had hucked my pants so I could tug them back on and then make a beeline to the nearest train station to get home.

“‘S fine, just… uh… shit, there’s no like… good way of asking this,” he mulled over.

“It’s okay, I don’t quite remember your name either,” I said, saving him the embarrassment. He laughed, and it was goofy and light, which was way too endearing for… shit did that microwave clock say 9:30 in the morning? I couldn’t help but join in with a chuckle of my own. 

“Oh thank god,” he said once he stopped most of the laughter, “I didn’t want to seem like a complete asshole, but also there was no way I was going to remember it after last night.” He added.

“Yeah, I don’t remember much either, and I don’t even think I drank that much?” I said with just a dash of question in my tone, he nodded once.

“You didn’t, but I think you mentioned that you didn’t want to risk taking the train back so late.” He said. “I offered to let you crash here when you refused to let someone pay for a hotel.”

Yeah, that sure did sound like me.

“Well, thank you, I’m Sadie,” I said, and as soon as I did, he brightened like he suddenly did remember and just needed the metaphorical kick in the brainstem. 

“Yes! Okay, see I thought it’d be in there,” he said with another chuckle. “I usually at least try to learn the names of the girls I bring home.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the way he chose to phrase it and even more when he very clearly winced realizing how it sounded.

“We’ll chop it up to “lack of coffee” and call no hard feelings, sound fair?” I proposed as an even solution to our silly little predicament. 

“Fair, I’m Jack by the way.” he said as he came over to the couch and offered up his hand. “Nice to actually meet you Sadie,” he said. 

“Nice to meet you too,” I said with a chuckle as I shook his hand with a bit of teasing vigor. 

“Can I at least offer you breakfast before you sneak out in the middle of the morning?” He asked while still holding onto my hand. I thought it over, and remembered the time, and figured that… yeah I could probably stand to be held up for coffee and a minimal breakfast before jumping on the train. 

“Yeah, if it’s not —“

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack was quick to cut me off. He let go of my hand and wandered back over to the kitchen and I was quick to try and figure out where the hell I’d put my pants so I wasn’t having to talk across the apartment and be perceived as rude on top of whatever else one could make assumptions about a girl who’d crashed on the couch of a guy she barely knew. After being assured that the blanket was carefully tucked around me I leaned down to check under the couch and was relieved when I found them sticking out. I carefully maneuvered my body so that I could reach under the couch, grab them and carefully bend back up onto the couch so I could put them on under the blanket. When I eventually sat back up and stood. Jack was looking at me with a look of bemusement. 

“Were you…”

“No, last night me wanted to not sleep in jeans. So I must’ve haphazardly hucked them off.”

“And you managed to get them on… without getting up from under the blanket?”

“Old trick from summer camp. Trust me, you haven’t even seen half of it.” I could get dressed pretty entirely without getting up from under the covers. When Jack still looked amused I chuckled and finished walking over to where he was in the kitchen. “What? Upstate New York gets cold in the morning in the summer.” I remarked. Jack fully laughed and again, I couldn’t help but join in.

“Oh I know, I guess I’m just used to living in houses with heating too.” He said. I simply shrugged, low tech summer camps, what could you do? I watched as Jack maneuvered around his kitchen to get the coffee going from the cautious spot of his breakfast bar, trying to not take up too much space or get in the way, no one likes multiple people in a kitchen at once, it was practically a fact. “I only have milk and sugar, I hope that’s okay?”

“It’ll be fine, I’m hardly in a position to be picky,” I said as I tried to focus on something that wasn’t the way Jack’s hair was falling that made him seem… softer? than just my brain’s logical, knee jerk reaction of him being “just some guy”. I mean, of all the people that my sleep addled brain could remember, I definitely remember that Jack was one of the better looking ones. I could feel my fingers wanting to pick at my nails and the social morays of it all was pretty much the only thing holding me back from doing so. I wanted to say something, anything, pretend for one morning that I was good at socializing. The fact that I’d managed to get through last night with enough grace and charm that I had managed to score a place to crash after the friend of a friend I came with ditched me to hook up with on of the myriad of white boys that were there that night meant this morning I was praying I had enough left to at least make it through coffee.

Jack set the Keurig off to do its thing and rifled through the cupboards to try and find… something. Honestly, while I was hoping for cereal, I would’ve settled for toast, when I heard him curse someone under his breath and went over to the fridge.

“Shit.” He muttered.

“Roommate eat you out of house and home?” I said taking a shot in the dark. Jack looked over, remembering he was making coffee for two and gave me a look that read as though I’d gotten it in one. He padded back over to the breakfast bar and leaned in conspiratorially, something I couldn’t help but meet him halfway about.

“So… I might’ve lied about breakfast. My brother was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday after practice and it looks like he forgot.” I chuckled and opened my mouth to assure him that really, it was fine, thanks for even offering, I’ll just go; but he pressed on, “there’s a spot around the corner that does… probably better than I ever could and that includes the coffee. If you want, I could… take you there?” He proposed. 

On the one hand, that was incredibly sweet and his smile was very much continuing my brain’s belief of him being endearing. Not to mention I love a good brunch spot as much as the next girly and that included a good little diner.

On the other hand, I felt gross being in yesterday’s clothes and I didn’t want to impede Jack’s ability to get on with his day. That, and the somewhat social expectation to turn down anything offered with you without an obvious way to pay back. We weren’t really friends, and we weren’t dating, so what the hell could I even do? My obvious gut reaction was to reject it, to chop it up to the fact that really, he was just being polite and there was no real reason to go with him. But then I snuck another glance at him, a little open and earnest and maybe the offer was just a genuine “let me be a good host in spite of the fact that my roommate is making that a challenge.”

“One condition,” I said and Jack nodded, “you mind if I borrow your shower? I feel super gross,” I said and Jack immediately nodded.

“Yeah, course, I’ll get you a new shirt if ya need.” He was quick to add. I smiled and thanked him as he pointed me toward where the bathroom was. It was very clear a bachelor’s bathroom, but at least they had more than one bottle of soap. So… small victories.

I was quick to wash up and thankful for the t-shirt left precariously balancing on the bathroom island that fully suggested it’d been put there without someone looking. Changing was just as fast and I came back out feeling a little less like death. I grabbed my phone and my bag from the end of the couch (ungracefully shoving my t-shirt from last night in) and met Jack where he was by the door. 

The trip to ground level was mostly quiet, with both of us seemingly trying to pick and choose what to say about all of this. I didn’t want to put any sort of anything on it, hell, I was prepared to pay should need be and blow the rest of my fun money budget for the month. 

And Jack hadn’t been lying when he said the place had been around the corner as, sure enough, the glass faced front of a quaint brunch place, Edison light bulbs and all, was in front of us. For a late Saturday morning, it wasn’t horrendous by any means. I predicted a twenty minute wait without reservations, but I was willing to be surprised. Jack got the door for me and I muttered a quiet thank you as we walked in. The front area was small so I suspected that this was probably a strict “reservation or get lucky on a walk in” place. I snuck a glance at Jack, but he didn’t seem to be fazed by any of it as he made his way over to the hostess and they had a quick exchange before menus were being grabbed and we were being led to a quiet little back booth, out of sight of the main windows. The hostess gave her usual spiel about the menus and our waiter being over in a few and we both thanked her for her time. As she left I finally looked over at Jack.

“What?”

“Does the owner owe you money or something?”

“No, but he is a fan,” he said. That made me tilt my head slightly but I was quick to shake it off. “Relax, I made reservations while you were showering. Got lucky that they had a last minute cancellation.” He said. Yeah, that seemed reasonable all things considered, so I let the topic drop and gave the menu a scan. There wasn’t a lot that didn’t appeal to me, so that was a good sign. 

“Got any recommendations?” I asked as Jack fidgeted with his fork.

“Oh, uh… the pancakes are pretty killer. And my brother swears by their waffles. But pretty much everything’s good.” He said. I nodded and adjusted my own silverware as our waiter came over and poured water. While I was of the firm belief that brunch didn’t count as brunch without mimosas, I just ordered coffee with some of their fancier fixings. We asked for a bit more time with the menus and our waiter agreed to come back with the coffee. We fell into a silence, not quite awkward but nowhere near comfortable, and I settled on biting the bullet first.

“So why New Jersey?” I asked.

“Why New Jersey?”

“Yeah, you don’t seem like you’re from around here so why’d you move to New Jersey?”

“Work,” he answered simply. My memory of the previous night was still a swirling mess of exhaustion and bright lights and a smidge too much noise, but I think I remembered that those at the table who hadn’t been with my acquaintance group were coworkers. Must be a tight knit workplace. “You?”

“School, got a scholarship.”

“What for?”

“Creative writing, not the flashiest of degrees, but it’s what I’ve always wanted to do.” I replied. 

“Working on the next Great American Novel, then?” He asked and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ah, maybe. Right now I’m fighting to try and keep my voice while meeting every professors’ wildly different expectations. It’s a… hassle.” I said. The conversation spiraled from there, breaking to order brunch, but otherwise swapping stories about his family and my schooling. What could I say, I had an odd high school experience, even by American Public School standards, and eventful friends.

By the time food came out, we’d eased up the tension by a couple points, and I only felt sort of bad when my phone vibrated insistently in my pocket. I made a gesture asking if it was chill if I got it and he nodded. I fished it out of my pocket and scanned the notification. Multiple texts from Anna, the friend I was supposed to travel home with last night, as it seems she’d finally woken up from her adventures last night. Most of them were standard, if sweet, a “did you get home”, a “sorry for ditching you”, and then finally “oh holy shit this guy is rich rich”. It was funny, and I was just about to put my phone away when I saw the last text come in.

what kind of rich as hell guy has a two bedroom? Shit, did i sleep with a married guy?

That finally got me to audibly laugh and Jack raised his eyebrow, “The friend I was supposed to get back to campus with, she just woke up and is questioning if she just became the other woman.”

“Nah, none of the guys out last night were married. What’d she look like?” He asked.

“Blonde, dark eyeliner, wearing the purple tank top,” I said. Jack then stifled a laugh.

“Ask her if the guy she went home with had poorly taken care of curls,” he said offhandedly. I did and set my phone on the table as I continued eating my brunch.

A couple minutes later my phone lit up with a notification.

yeah, that is *oddly* specific, how did you know?

“Yeah he is,”

“Oh my god,”

“What?”

“She’s at my place.”

“You’re kidding,”

“She went home with my brother, you’ve been in the same place all night,” he said and I couldn’t help but nearly double over as I started laughing. The entire reason I’d crashed was because she had ditched me and now it turns out we’d been in the same apartment the whole night.

“Oh that’s so fucking funny,” I said once I could breathe again. I shot off a text to Anna.

I’m still downtown, I’ll meet you at the train station in a half hour if you want?

deal.

I finally put my phone back in my pocket and we finished up brunch with a companionable edge. By the time the waiter came back to clear our dishes we were getting close to having to negotiate the bill.

“So…” I started to say.

“I’m paying,”

“You didn’t even—“

“I was never gonna let you pay, my mom raised me better than that.” He said. 

“At least let me cover for my coffee?”

“Sadie, don’t worry about it,” he said with a tone that got me to drop it. Like I wasn’t going to be able to win this no matter how I negotiated it. As the waiter came back with the bill and Jack handed over his card I said a quiet thanks which got a grin out of him. Brain, pick a struggle, we cannot be enamored by this boy after waking up on his couch in a first meeting we can barely remember. He finished paying and we got up to leave and I did my best to keep my internal argument off my face as we did.

I managed to make it to the street corner before I was willing to confront the fact that I had to actually leave and go back to campus, and Jack had to… wait. Hang on. 

The coffee had started to kick in and things were finally lining up. I knew I had to have gotten into school for some reason right?

“Oh shit,”

“What?” He asked with a tilt of his head and okay fine I’ll admit it brain he’s cute, but the realizations that my brain was finally having made it so that this was never going to happen again.

“You’re a Devils player,” I said as I smacked my own forehead and Jack started laughing. 

“You only just figured that out?”

“Leave me alone, I haven’t had a full night's sleep in like a week,” I joked, still covering my face a little. Jack carefully moved me out of foot traffic and gently pulled my hands away from my face.

“Is that a deal breaker?” He asked.

“What?”

“Me being a hockey player?”

“What, why?”

“Well, I thought that went well all things considered and I was gonna ask for your number to hopefully do dinner sometime.” He said with a soft smile, letting his hand fall into mine. I thought it over, between the fact that he was indeed cute, that he was nice, and funny, and asking with such an expression that seemed that, if he wasn’t trying to convince me he was cool and at least a little normal, he’d be rocking on his heels about; and the mere fact that he took me out to brunch after offering to let me crash on his couch. It was pretty much enough in the category of good signs that I was inclined to say:

“It’s not a deal breaker,” and he grinned a little wider, “besides I was going to ask for your number anyway. I have to get your shirt back somehow.” I chuckled.

“Ah, keep it, I can always buy a new one.” He joked. I passed over my phone and he put his contact in before quickly texting himself and passing it back. I chuckled at his contact photo, a terribly taken close up of him, and saw that I had a text from Anna that she was at the station already.

“I guess I’ll talk to you to figure out scheduling?” I proposed with just a hint of awkwardness. 

“Yeah, I gotta check with my brother about some things and what have you.” 

“Okay,” I said with a little chuckle of disbelief. “Thanks for brunch, by the way.” I said.

“Thank you for agreeing and not sneaking out in the middle of the morning,” he replied with a bit of a chuckle that lit up his face. There was no good way to leave this, with a promise of something stronger, but still uneasy about what one's dynamic is in the now, “can I give you a hug?” He asked.

Oh thank god.

“Yeah, yes,” I said with a stumbled out laugh as he matched it before giving me a friendly “see you around” style hug. We parted with a half wave and I started making my way back to the train station.

I made it with a bit of a light jog as Anna dragged me in the direction of the platform so we could catch the train just pulling into the station. We quickly collapsed into seats before she finally turned to me.

“So… who's this?” She asked tugging on the sleeve of the clearly borrowed t-shirt.

“The guy who’s couch I crashed on last night. I made a comment about feeling gross about being in last night's clothes that he lent me a t-shirt.” Lent, gave, I wasn’t certain I wanted to broach that topic with Anna yet. Roommate first, acquaintances second. “How ‘bout you? Did you at least get coffee?”

“Yeah, he made a comment about his roommate being out so we ordered breakfast at his place, he was so nice.” She gushed. I watched as the realization crossed her face, “wait you said you’d tell me how you knew what he looked like when we met up,” she lightly wacked my arm with the back of her hand, “spill.”

I laughed and rubbed the back of my neck, “I was at breakfast with his roommate. Also known as his brother.” I said.

“Shut up! No fucking way,” she said with a laugh. We were getting looks from a few commuters in our immediate area and I tried to quiet her down. “That’s too funny,” she said in a slightly quieter tone. “Are you seeing him again?”

“Are you?” I countered.

“Maybe, he gave me his number, but I’m not certain.” She said, “Now tell me you coward,”

“Maybe,” I countered and she groaned at my dramatics.

“Insufferable, you fink.” She joked. I grinned a little as we continued some small talk before I agreed to let her rest on my shoulder until we got to the campus’ stop. 

I fished my phone out and figured that I should probably try and organize a date huh?

[beauiestars]

Cherik x Good Omens AU

Angel!Charles Xavier/Demon!Erik Lehnsherr

Word count: 1610

Warnings: Angst, Fluff (if you squint), Religious elements/imagery (Good Omens style, duh), Forbidden romance

Summary: In a world where angels and demons are bound by divine law, Erik, a fallen angel, and Charles, a devoted angel, fall into a forbidden love that defies the natural order. Willing to face any consequence, even death, Erik is determined to protect Charles from the dangers their bond brings, as they navigate the tension between duty and desire.

After several million years in Charles' company, Erik thought he knew the angel's moods like the back of his hand. However, that couldn't have been further from the truth. As Charles strode up and down the bookshop with an unreadable expression—and responded to Erik's questioning with nonsensical monosyllabic answers—the demon was left perplexed.

Less than a moment ago, they had been engaging in amiable conversation near the fireplace, which was gradually becoming less out of character for the two men. Yet, Charles' demeanour had flipped like a switch and he hadn't uttered a coherent word since.

"Charles, your tea is getting cold," Erik said in a poor attempt to coax the angel back to his side. Of course, Charles didn't spare him a glance. He was offended for only a moment before reminding himself that he hadn't done anything wrong and that Charles was the one behaving peculiarly. With a flick of his wrist, the tea steamed in the mug once again.

Erik watched Charles' erratic movements, only growing more bewildered each time the angel passed by with another stack of books. There was no rhyme or reason to anything Charles was doing; he moved piles of books from one spot to another, and then back again, all whilst muttering incoherently under his breath.

When Charles tried to move a bookshelf using brute strength—unsuccessfully—Erik had to step in. "Stop that. What on earth are you doing?" Erik planted himself between a red-faced Charles and the bookshelf. For the first time in almost an hour, Charles finally looked up at Erik. A huff escaped his pouted lips, and his blue eyes filled with determination.

"If you'd excuse me," Charles said, trying to budge past Erik to resume his secret agenda. Erik planted his feet firmly on the ground, a solid force against the interminable stubbornness of Charles Xavier. Exasperated, and unwilling to fight a losing battle on this occasion, Charles resigned himself to the armchair beside the fireplace, crossing his arms firmly against his chest. "I'll do that later."

"Do what, Charles?" Erik raked his hands through his hair. For reasons he couldn't quite discern, not knowing exactly what went on inside Charles' head unsettled him. Reading people—especially Erik—was always Charles's strong suit. Much to Erik's dismay, it rarely worked the other way around. "You're making no sense."

"To you, maybe," Charles scowled from his spot on the armchair. As far as Erik knew, he was an innocent man—though not really, but in the current situation, he certainly believed it—and Charles' attitude toward him was unwarranted. If Erik hadn't been offended before, he certainly was now.

"Charles," Erik's tone held a promise of dispute. Charles' name had never been uttered from Erik's lips so harshly, and it appeared to rattle him. He sat up straighter, and his hands fell into his lap. The demon approached him in long strides, planting his palms on either arm of Charles' armchair, trapping the angel in place. "If you don't tell me what I've done, I can't fix it. Can I?"

"I suppose not," Charles said at a hushed volume, preferring to keep his eyes trained on Erik's chest rather than his face. He bit down on his lip, continuing to shy away from eye contact. An inkling of hurt bloomed in Erik's heart. Opting to worry about the implications later, he hooked his thumb and index fingers under Charles's chin and turned his face up to meet Erik's softened gaze.

"Tell me what I've done, liebling." The term of endearment rolled off Erik's tongue before he could stop it—not that he would have. Charles sighed, his blue eyes finally meeting Erik's. The angel couldn't resist these moments of softness from the demon, no matter how fleeting. Charles' freckled cheeks grew redder, but Erik dismissed it as the heat from the hearth.

"When we were talking just now," Charles began, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. He'd been so shy to make eye contact a minute ago, but now his gaze was impenetrable. "Or a while ago—my fault—the way you spoke so passionately. I just..." Charles' voice trailed off, and he bit into his bottom lip.

Erik, overflowing with burning anticipation, urged him to continue. "Did I upset you? Was it something I said?" His overt impatience came across more intensely than he'd intended. Charles leaned back in his seat, creating distance as Erik's fingers dropped from his jaw.

"Not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact," Charles laughed. It was a short and intrusive sound, but innocuous. Erik knew Charles wasn't laughing at him, per se. Even so, Charles didn't elaborate. The burgeoning expectation was driving Erik mad, and it must have shown on his face. "You captivated me."

Erik felt the tension ease in his shoulders, and he released his bated breath. "In that case, I can't possibly fathom why you've been pacing around the bookshop and avoiding me for the last half hour." The more Charles tried to answer Erik's questions, the more arose in their place.

"I was afraid of what it might mean," Charles said. Erik silently cursed Charles' prudence—which now seemed to be the basis for Charles' caprice. Keeping his mouth shut and his agitation restrained, Erik urged Charles to continue. "I was afraid of what I would have to admit and how it would affect us."

"Us?" Erik hoped that Charles would stop being so vague and verbose for one moment to get his point across. "What about us?" His confusion seeped into every syllable, his frustration palpable.

"For goodness' sake, Erik. I'm bloody in love with you," Charles finally confessed, his chest heaving and his eyes scanning frantically over Erik's expression. Suddenly, Charles' hesitance was warranted. The words lingered, suspended in the air like the beginning winds of a storm, heavy with the threat of something that could tear them apart.

Something forbidden—unheard of—had burgeoned  between the two men. Anything more than a reluctant cooperation between an angel and a demon was unprecedented. Their bond defied all realms of natural law regarding their kind. The punishment for such a crime, if there was even a concept for it, could be detrimental.

To say Erik didn't feel the same would be a sordid mistruth. Getting to know someone over the span of eternity leaves little to be uncovered, and although Erik couldn't predict Charles' moods, he knew everything that truly mattered. All of the good and bad—though the latter was negligible. Erik loved it all. He loved Charles.

The aphotic depths of this new territory offered no guarantees of punishment or forgiveness. Perhaps they would be pardoned, but one could never make such an optimistic assumption. Erik knew the wrath of God. Would she punish their kindred spirits and bleeding hearts?

"Erik?" Charles' anxious voice anchored Erik to the present. The contrite look the angel's face filled Erik with shame. Unaware of how long he had remained silent, he had left Charles to draw his own conclusions and assume the worst.

A fire lit behind Charles' lustrous eyes, catching Erik off guard. "I'm not sorry," Charles said. His tone tremendously assured, as if his attitude had changed with the flip of a switch.

"Pardon?" Erik shook his head, mystified by the other man's sudden impertinent countenance. Charles' stare was unrelenting, and Erik recognised the tacit agreement that Charles would not repeat himself.

Erik, at a loss for words, dropped to his knees in front of Charles. For the first time, Charles looked down at Erik, his blue eyes swimming with expectation. Erik had always been a man of few words, but he invariably made his intentions clear. "Charles, I worship you."

Charles' eyes widened, and an incredulous gasp escaped his perfect lips. He was unaccustomed to the way Erik unflinchingly uttered blasphemy. Once, the fallen angel had questioned the iniquitous rules of God, and she had struck him from the Heavens. But his angel could never be so cruel. "My devotion belongs to you. And you alone."

"Oh, Erik," Charles said longingly. Erik's beliefs scarcely aligned with those Charles had held since the beginning of time, but Erik selfishly hoped the angel might indulge him and embrace the forbidden moment. The thrill of defiance filled Erik with a desperate hope that they could make this work.

"I love you," Erik said like a prayer. Charles wordlessly sank onto the floor in front of him. His hand found its way to Erik's jaw, four fingers grazing the side of his face and his thumb brushing the apple of Erik's cheek. The demon leaned into the angel's touch like it was a sweet reprieve.

Charles leaned in carefully. His free hand trailed into Erik's hair at the back of his neck, and flames erupted within him. Their noses touched for a second before their mouths met, already soft and open. They fit together like puzzle pieces or missing ribs.

Erik kissed Charles as if he were desperate to memorise the feel of his lips and the taste of his sweet, warm mouth. Charles' lips were softer than anything Erik had ever known, and his kisses were all-consuming. Erik couldn't think or do anything but drink Charles in, savouring the movements of his lips and each breath as it came.

When the time arrived—if it arrived—that they would face trial for their crime, Erik would take all the blame. He'd lie to any jury, and say he coerced Charles; the possibility of Charles paying the price of their love was inconceivable. If loving Charles meant death, Erik would choose death every time.

Thankyou for reading my short lil oneshot! The idea was given to me by my good friend Dani when I was struggling to write for my main fic. This is my first time publishing any of my work since around 2020, so please be nice :.)

28th August 2024

TAGS:

[silverskye13]

wait silver if renbob visits hels has he met the red king? and if so are they disastrous or iconic together

"Deliiiiivery! :D" Renbob calls in a sing-song voice, holding a stack of boxes in his arms. "RK, where you at my brother?"

He stands in the empty loading dock at the back of the Colosseum, smiling expectantly at the vacant bay. He likes hels. It's warm, and the people are interesting. It could stand to be a little more colorful, but not all pretty places are colorful. Like the beach for example! It's mostly just yellow and blue and hot, and it's still pretty.

(That's perfect actually! Hels makes him think of the beach: hot and monocolor, but somehow still interesting once you get past all the sand. Hah! Imagine a beach in hels! It'd be like a sauna, all steam and rocks.)

"RK I know you can hear me," Renbob calls again. "I can't hold these boxes all day! Well I can, but I will get bored you know?"

There is a grumbling, growling sound that comes from everywhere, but mostly the back of his head. It starts as several whispered and snarled words, and slowly coalesces into a string of coherent thought, "I don't answer to the name RK here, lad."

"My bad, must've gotten you mixed up with someone," Renbob chuckles. "Do you want your delivery?"

"Loading bay?"

"They won't let me park the van anywhere else, my brother. Oh! Please bring your favorite sword, if you don't mind? :)"

There is a cacophony of barks and growls as Red's presence slips out of the back of Renbob's mind. He wonders if Red knows that's the sound his thoughts make: an angry pack of wolves. They aren't kind wolves. They whisper a lot of unkind things when they trail after Red's thoughts. He wonders if that's why Red is always so nice to people: he's keeping the wolves from the door, so to speak.

Red strides into the loading bay, one hand on the wall as a guide until it ends in the open room. He steps confidently even when the wall is gone. The iron crown, sunk down low over his eyes, either doesn't hinder his sight, or he's memorized enough of the Colosseum that it doesn't bother him anymore.

"What sound do my thoughts make :O ?" Renbob asks. Red, who'd been walking a little too far to the left of him, twitches his big, wolf-like ears and realigns his path, meeting Renbob where he stands in front of his camper van.

"What sound do ye... Thoughts make?"

"Yeah, do they make like, sound? I always figured you'd hear a pleasant background of guitar and ukulele music."

Red tilted his in an expression that probably meant he was raising his eyebrows. It was hard to tell with the crown in the way. "Ye thoughts sound like yer voice. Though there do be a slight... Birdsong type noise."

"Is it chillaxin?"

"Aye sure."

"Groovy! :D" Renbob laughed. "I'll take it then! And like, you can take these."

He passes the stack of boxes to Red, who struggles a bit with their weight.

"What all have ye brought for me lad?" Red grunts, giving up on holding them all and setting them down. "All I asked for were some of those hot chips, and ye lemon squares."

"Oh it's just some bits and bobs, mostly," Renbob hums brightly, counting on his fingers. "There's a shulker of emerald and lapis (you said you were looking for a new color to go with all the red? :V those are opposite on the color wheel might be a good place to start! :) ), a shulker of flowers for dyes (all labeled. Are you color blind? I can't remember. Anyway I labeled the dye colors they make ^_^), three boxes of lemon squares (for you and your hand and a box for your Colosseum buddies! I'm sure they'd love some :D), two bags of spicy chippies, and I got you two bolts of fabric (your cloak is getting so torn up :( you've gotta take better care of your stuff brother!). Oh, and there's a few diamonds in there I nicked from Ren. (He won't miss 'em I promise ;) )."

Red tilted his head to the side, "How...? In the world...?"

"Hmm? :)"

"How do ye make...? With your voice...? Ye know what, it be unimportant," Red chuckled, a growling noise that fractured on the edges, a hint of the wolf-thoughts that leaked into real life. "Alas lad, I did not know ye would bring so much, else I would have had payment ready for such finery."

"Oh perish the thought, RK!" Renbob grinned, waving a dismissive hand. "You know you don't have to pay me!"

"Er... Red."

"That's what I said. :3"

"I see, ye be jesting?"

"Jest so!"

"Ah," Red smirked and leaned against the tower of boxes. "Ye said ye visited Ren. How fares our little brother?"

"He's older than both of us Red!"

"Aye, but he also be shorter than both of us."

Renbob laughed, bright and hearty, and for a moment, sunshine flickered in the Colosseum. Flowers bloomed around Renbob's feet. "Right you are, brother! Though I think he might be taller than me if I took my platforms off."

"Aye, but I see no universe where ye be making that particular wardrobe choice."

"I dunno. I was thinking about going to the beach after this. Do you guys have beaches in hels?"

"Aye, if you fancy soul sand by the lava lake."

"Oh man, I haven't taken a good lava bath in awhile!"

"Ye do love those an uncanny amount."

"It's exfoliating!"

"Makes me smell like burning hair."

"Well, to like, really enjoy it you have to get past the-- wait! You asked me a question?"

"Our little brother."

"Right! Ren's doing well! Gave him a ride over to his new season with his boyfriend."

Red, who had found one of the boxes of lemon squares during the conversation, coughed out a bite of lemon. "Begging your pardon?"

"You know, those go down a lot better with milk. I think hels dries them out a little. :("

"Ren has a boyfriend?!"

"Oh! Yeah, mister Docm77," Renbob beamed. "I don't think they've made it like, Facebook official yet, but they sure were making a lot of plans together for next season!"

Red sighed out a breath of relief, holding a hand to his chest. "Ye be jesting again."

"Mostly. :)"

"Well, when this great Book of Faces writes their names side by side, ye let me know."

"Certainly!" Renbob crossed his arms behind his back. "Oh, hey, before I go, like, could I ask you a huge favor?"

"Aye, lad?"

"I need a sword. Gonna be hopping to some dangerous orbits soon I think, and like, I'm real peace love and plants and all, so I can't make my own. But I can accept a gift, if you catch my drift?"

"Ah, suddenly all the gifts make sense," Red hums. He reaches down to his sword belt and unbuckles it, passing it off to Renbob, sword, scabbard and all. "Must ye take my most precious one?"

"You know how I work, Red. Only gifts given with love," Renbob grinned. It was a little sharper than it needed to be. Red couldn't see all the teeth. But it was nice to smile wide sometimes. "I do really appreciate it, my brother."

"Of course." Red smiled back, also showing a few too many teeth. Renbob felt a swelling of fondness for Ren's helsmet.

(It really was nice to be with kin sometimes, the people you could really be yourself with. Red didn't think he was unsettling, or fae-like. Red didn't go making a big deal about how widely he smiled, or how much he changed when his whims stretched him around. Red didn't begrudge the odd little pacts and rules he had to follow.)

"Well I'll like, catch you on the flipside brother!" Renbob said cheerfully. "Don't die while I'm gone, ya dig? :)"

"Don't go being any stranger," Red returned, picking up a box to carry back to his rooms. He would need help carrying them all.

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

*enables you* what happened with TLJ 👃

After all these years I still can't properly find words to explain how deeply betrayed I felt after the credits rolled and I shuffled out of the movie theater with everybody else. There was a TON of hype surrounding this movie, an absolute fuckton. I only saw positive reviews about it, the cast, the director, the plot. I got excited to see where Rian Johnson & Co. would take the ST.

The only remotely negative comment I saw before watching the movie was a fandom blog saying they didn't like what happened to Poe. Since this blog was about racism in fandom, I knew something was off. That was my only warning.

And y'know, it was like, five minutes in? Ten minutes? And Poe makes a "Yo mama" joke at Hux? I used to go into movies with an open mind and spent days gathering my thoughts about them because I was always slow to react, slow to gather my thoughts into coherent strings of words. It's how I enjoyed Michael Bay productions and JJ Abrams' love affair with lens flare. I never got actively angry with a movie I was watching, and I was fucking angry by the time the movie ended. I still remember texting a friend while standing out in front of the theater because I was so confused. The response to TLJ was so positive so why did I come out of the movie so frustrated and confused and dissatisfied with the whole thing?

It's been years and we all know how this movie divided the Star Wars fandom and just... broke Fandom Spaces in a way I never expected. We all know what TLJ did and didn't do, and how TROS provided the final nail in the coffin that was the ST experiment. But back then, all I saw was positive commentary about the themes and messages of TLJ, how it portrayed failure and the dangers of putting someone like Luke Skywalker on a pedestal, how the Force was female, how... important it was to see Poe get characterized as a hotheaded hotshot who needed to be demoted, slapped around, and stunned in order to learn some kind of lesson, how important it was to see Finn lose everything he gained in TFA so that he could relearn how not to be selfish or something while starring in a fucking incredibly tone-deaf B plot, how Rey... I'm not sure exactly what because she didn't need training anyway and then spent most of her time trying to bring Ben Swolo back to the light????? Rose was so promising as someone who grew up under the FO's thumb but she and Kelly were fucking abandoned by Disney so I don't know if Rose existing was actually a good idea if it meant giving Kelly unending trauma. Mark slipped up by calling Luke "Jake" and expressing his displeasure in front of cameras, and I was so fucking baffled and alienated by his character after knowing how his story ended in ROTJ that I couldn't connect with whatever lessons I and he are supposed to be learning. JJ set up Snoke like a mystery box and Rian just yeeted him off without so much as a fucking explanation so what was the point of that? Hux was a fucking joke. Phasma was barely there. The only character that Rian cared about was fucking Kylo Ren and Adam says years later that he was never supposed to get a redemption arc anyway.

Like, this was the movie everyone hyped up? This was the movie that didn't answer any questions left unasked by TFA and didn't bother to move forward with character development for any of the known characters? I spent money watching a slow space chase that ended on a planet made of salt and killed off Luke for Reasons? Am I stupid? Am I dumb? Am I a peasant incapable of understanding the masterpiece Rian directed, this so-called Best Star Wars Movie Since ESB?

But I couldn't say anything. I couldn't be dogpiled for hating such a empowering movie for women, a diverse and inclusive movie that had the likes of John and Kelly and Oscar. I couldn't be lumped in with the Star Wars dudebros with their raging misogynistic and racist takes on the movie, the cast, Kathleen Kennedy and Lucasfilm, Disney, etc. I couldn't be seen as one of them just because I didn't like a movie that I should like, I'm supposed to like. So I sat in silence, read meta, witnessed the fucking catastrophic explosion around some wild ass AO3 fandom essays written by a racist OG member of OTW about Finn/Poe, saw hate piled on black and bipoc fans, saw r*ylo fans come for John and John clap back at them, just saw an absolute fuckton of hate, and so by the time TROS came around I just... checked out. There was no way JJ could salvage what Rian had done and I was right. TROS was a corporate-run soulless garbage end to the Sequel Trilogy, but it ended just as The Mandalorian finished its first season and regained a lot of good will with this small story about a lonely Mandalorian bounty hunter who encountered a Force-sensitive Baby Yoda.

And then TBOBF/Season 3 of the Mando Show happened, just like how TLJ happened. All the promise, all the unanswered questions of the previous movie/season, all fucking dropped or provided with the worst, most unsatisfying answer. I'm sure others have found better answers and can live with what Star Wars gave us, but I haven't been able to. TLJ came out years and years ago, and I am still so bitter today. I'm still so bitter because TFA had such an incredibly compelling setup with such promising characters, and then TLJ Did That.

I got so heated while writing this. I'm still so mad. I'm still so bitter. I bury my head so deep in the sandbox I built for myself so that I don't have to think how Disney is twisting and contorting all these Mando'verse shows so that they all eventually lead to the ST, their precious hot potato child that just... didn't have to end the way they did if they actually had a fucking plan and fucking stuck the landing. I'll give the MCU this - their Phase 1? They fucking stuck the landing. I fell off the train tracks and haven't really watched the MCU since Captain Marvel, but at least they had a fucking plan and didn't fucking derail themselves like Disney did with the Sequel Trilogy.

I could be nice to people who like this movie but I'm not going to be. They can be nice on their own blogs.

Man, I can't even watch Knives Out or Glass Onion because my blood starts boiling. Just. TLJ did a lot to ruin what I hoped would be a positive and creative connection with Star Wars, and it took the Mando Show and the 2 minutes where Din and Luke locked eyes on the Imperial light cruiser to bring me back.

I'm gonna stop before I get way too heated for sleep.

[shakingparadigm]

I'm glad we have someone like you in the fandom and that you started a youtube channel too. It feels less lonely I guess! Everything you post (theories,art,informations,jokes) is in my opinion so interesting,creative and detailed. I don't really send asks but I really had to tell you that I appreciate all of this,not what you simply post,but create too! I believe after Alien Stage will end,I will miss your posts about it but I'll have a good time remembering the days before a round was dropped,where we all assembled there to scream in fear (AVENGERS... ASSEMBLE LOL) and I'm sure I'll continue visit even if you'll talk about something else,with Vivinos content here and there if qmeng and the team will post about it etc!

One thing that makes me more conscious about ''IvanTill tragedy'' is that... Ivan loved the idea,the meaning,he had of Till,because he never got to be seen by him,got to express himself and be something for Till,which means getting to really enter Till's world. So I think at some point he asked himself ''What do I love'',which led him to the circle of reasons we deduced from their backstories,reason of the words chosen in the official art,where he says ''shallow feelings''... but they weren't shallow at all... And I think this is so sad,that he could not feel the depth in it,or understand his emotions... It's so sad we don't have a glimpse of Till's pov... Thank you for reading this until the end,I'll silently return in my den :)

Sorry this turned into such a long and awkwardly sentimental post,,,, ;;

Thank you....!!!

I'm really happy that you think of me so nicely, even if my posts and speculations are off the mark... or if the things I make are truthfully not very good. Even if they're mediocre at best, I still put a lot of my heart into them. I've always had a lot of things to say, but I never really opened myself to speaking about them until earlier this year. It feels really nice and comforting to share everything and be responded to with the same level of enthusiasm. I keep repeating myself when giving my thanks, but it's just because I will always be grateful to everyone I've talked to so far. That will never change. Thank you for taking the time to send me an ask! It really means everything to me. Let's focus on enjoying ourselves and anticipating what's to come! Even though Alien Stage is bound to end, we're still only halfway there!

I genuinely would like to thank you for your support. I wouldn't hold it against you if eventually you lost interest in my blog later down the line, but the fact that you'd still want to visit even if I end up switching to other things is so kind. I can't put down everything I'd like to say in a way that sounds coherent, and I undoubtedly am making this a bigger deal than it has to be, but from the bottom of my heart I'd like to thank you and everyone who has been so so kind to me. Truthfully I'm still unsure about whether or not I even deserve it, but I want you to know that I appreciate everything. I remember everything, too. Right down to the first few people who shared their thoughts to me back when I first started this blog!

I'm sorry if I seem like a bit of a downer, or if I seem less active lately? Less present or something like that. There's a lot that I've been going through lately (to add on to that my damn house flooded. yikes. currently staying at a friend's right now), and it honestly worries me to think about a lot of things, not to mention all the asks that I haven't been able to answer yet... I'm so sorry. I'll get to them eventually, I promise! They mean a lot to me and I want to do them justice with an answer, but some days I just can't find it in me to put thoughts into words.... once again, I'm so sorry. I don't want to make it seem as though they're a burden or anything, though! It's genuinely the highlight of my day to receive one.

Your perspective on Ivan and Till is worded so wonderfully. It truly is tragic that Ivan views his feelings as shallow, especially when in reality they're so complex and all-encompassing. Someone who loves so fervently and desperately (obssessively) actively denies themselves something as simple as the validation of their own feelings. Ivan viewed so lowly of himself until the very end, believing that he was never able to mean anything to Till (You don't care about me is such a devastating line). Ivan's emotions are complicated on purpose, his character was designed with the intention to confuse. It's stated that only Ivan himself can truly know what he's feeling, but even then he is an unreliable narrator and is too deep in the throes of self-loathing to allow himself any mercy. Constantly at war with himself, even just moments before his demise.

Ivan is described to have the most flawed personality out of his peers ("twisted"). The fact that he hones in on this aspect of himself to the point where he cannot see himself as anything of worth to the people he cares about is so profoundly sad. A flaw within itself, the perfect recipe for self-sabotage.

Till's perspective on Ivan is desperately needed, even if it wouldn't make a difference to the present circumstances. When speaking of Ivan's feelings for Till, VIVINOS mentions that one cannot simply move on from such deep-seated and long lasting emotions in just a short time. Surely Till would share this sentiment, right? Constantly overwhelmed by his own heart, wouldn't Till mull over the feelings that drove Ivan to sacrifice? Wouldn't he dwell on the impact that Ivan has made on his person? What form does Ivan take in Till's memory? One cannot move on from feelings like this so easily, and although Till didn't feel for Ivan in the same way, it's undeniable that he at least felt something.

So far (iirc), the only official statement of Till's feelings towards Ivan is that Till found him strange (and vice-versa, but Ivan was fascinated and attracted to Till's "strangeness" while it seems that Till was... less so...). Although it makes sense that Till is so protective of his true feelings, it would be nice for his thoughts on Ivan to be expanded upon, just for some semblance of closure.

(Sorry if this went off-topic.... or if my answer ended up being off again haha but thank you genuinely for the ask. I appreciate it more than you could ever know).

[kevinsdsy]

(Kevin and Renee anon again... Sorry) I agree with that other anon's hot take so much because it's true and I love how they pointed out the fact that he portrys his care via exy. And to expand on your point about the team for Jean, not only did he find him a team opposite to the Ravens, but he's been helping them help him adjust as well. He found Jean a team with people he trusts to be able to actually help him. Jean even protested it but Kevin knew it was what would help him.. And I'm always thinking about the scene of him asking for Jean's hand to check it, making sure he could still close it and mobilize it, I'm not sure if it's because of what happened to himself but augh, the way he knows Jean so well makes me ill. Any question Jeremy has about him, he's answered easily. His conversations with him are so tender and just....he really cares about Jean. Random head canon but I think his love language could be gift giving because of the trinkets and post cards he'd get Jean from his travels. Plus, in when he bought Neil the racket and I know it was with the team's card but I'm under the belief he just likes buying stuff because it's easier to express that he cares and notices those he loves through buying them things he knows they'll enjoy/like. Not to mention he allowed Neil to fully be sure of his choices instead of going by himself and just getting a racquet he deemed the best.

Somebody fucking talk about History with him right now, I just know he'd be so animated while talking about it. It's literally an important interest that's set aside exy and yet they ignore him to then complain he's "all exy" 🙂‍↔️.

I can write much more and more coherently but it's 7am and I'm running on 2hrs of sleep and m&m's myb 🙂‍↕️ I can't promise this is my last Kevin Day anon but uhm I'll stop being annoying for now 🧎

GODDD THE SCENE WITH HIM ANALYSING JEAN’S HAND AND HIM TAKING THE TIME TO PREPARE JEREMY TO JEAN’S ARRIVAL IS JUST SO !!!!! makes me cry just thinking about it actually ntm when jeremy calls him asking if riko broke kevin’s hand and it’s so noticeable how kevin is jumping around the topic a bit. instead of immediately answering he asks if jean has told them about it and then he finally admits the truth and tells jeremy it’s something he doesn’t tell people since the issue is resolved now anyways and it’s all just so !!!!!

his love language being gift giving/acts of service is also such a good headcanon and i think it fits him so well especially like !!! especially because he went out of his way to buy jean magnets & get him postcards whenever he was away

HISTORY KEVIN DAY IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME!!! like the nerd is reading history books for fun and watching every history documentary he can get around to and i think he will go through phases when he starts hyperfixtating on specific topics (but i’m not as familiar with a lot of history topics so i can’t really give my take on which topics that would be) which also leads to my headcanon of him needing glasses, but hiding this fact by wearing lenses, because why would we not want to make him a history nerd wearing glasses and carrying books around him at all times like

AND PLSSS you’re MORE than welcome joining me in my inbox i LOVE talking about kevin he’s fr the loml

[noemitenshi]

Jake Otto as a brother

so i promised @minimoefoe to write down my thoughts on Jake. I hope I'm being coherent haha, it's all a big jumbled mess in my head that mostly boils down to seethign rage. I definitely hate Jake more than Jeremiah, so make of that what you will.

Jake, to me, seems to have taken on the role of 'the good kid' (you know, the thing that shouldn't happen between siblings, where one takes on the role of the black sheep and by contrast the other is good..) and not only has he taken it on, i mean, you can't really blame a kid for that (as long as the kid is, you know, a kid) but he seems to be have fully embraced that role in s3 where he is all grown up. Which is what really gets to me (he should know better by now).

You see that in all his interactions with Troy. He expects the worst of him, he's annoyed by all that Troy does. In fact, Troy can't win with him (funny how in s3ep8 jake is telling him "Do something!" about the militia being incapacitated etc and then when troy does do something it's still not good enough…). Also note how Troy, in contrast, almost never raises his voice at Jake (except for that one interaction where he's already all irritated/angry about mike leaving). He's mostly mild around Jake and at least I got the sense that he is resigned. Resigned to the fact that Jake will always see the worst in him. He's not even trying to convince him otherwise - so I assume they had several confrontations about that when they were little (actually would have loved to see more of their past relationship, these little hints we get seem so intriguing (eg tell me about the rabbits)).

I think the most hurtful interaction, imho, is when Troy tries to warn him not to go to Taqa to placate him after Troy went and got Alicia back. He seems earnest in his worry over Jake. "Brother, you leave, I don't think you're coming back" Troy tells Jake. And Jake, unable to see anything but confrontation in Troy and all Troy does goes "ask yourself if that would make you happier." Troy doesn't answer, not with words but his face says it all. He closes his mouth, unhappy. Opens it again as if to argue only to - stop. Probably because he knows there's no sense in arguing with Jake about how he sees Troy. He won't get him to change his mind.

Also, since I rewatched the scene, notice how Troy actually does understand Jake. With the "i think you'd be happy if Walker took your scalp." Jake does seem like the self-sacrificing type (they both do haha, they are brothers after all), like he'd want to die for doing the right thing. Troy gets that about him. Whereas Jake does not seem to even start being able to comprehend Troy. There seems to be too much bitterness on Jake's side for empathy.

And sure, yes they've both grown up in an abusive household, yes, probably Jake was told to look after Troy a lot (so Troy was made his responsibility which is super unfair, absolutely), probably also blamed for when Troy behaved in a way deemed unacceptable (which, given the parents were drunks could be literally ANYTHING e.g. drawing too loudly (an example meant to show their unreasonableness). add to that the fact that Troy was shown to be easily upset (in the video tape in s3ep3 he starts crying when his parents fight), they probably didn't want to deal with him upset/crying, demanding he stop it or demanding jake do something abou it…). So yes, all that is horrible also for jake, an impossible -abusive- situation for both brothers.

Jake should've grown out of it though. He's an adult now but he still can't see past these roles they were given. He probably even still blames it on Troy, like if he were a better child to their parents things would've been easier also on Jake. Why can't Troy never do what he's asked to? Etc etc. And all this colors his interaction with Troy as grown ups. All sympathy he has ever felt for Troy eroded over the years...

And I do think as a kid he was also trying to help Troy and protect him, as he says -though I also think Troy protected Jake. Troy seems like he's very used to dealing with pain, so I definitely think he made sure the ire of his parents fell on him. Kinda playing into the black sheep role, too (like kids tend to do once they've got this role)… anyway so Jake tried to protect him/help him though I think with time the bitterness took over. And that's all he has for Troy now, bitterness and disappointment. And Jake gives himself away. When he says "Ask yourself if that [jake not coming back from trying to placate Taqa] would make you happier" that's not troy's thinking at all. It's HIM, Jake, who'd be happier if Troy went off to some kind of mission (exile) and wouldn't come back.

tl;dr Jake is a shit brother to Troy (while playing the white knight to others -or should that be 'and'- fully embracing the 'good kid' role) and I'll never like him