#i could just imply that sleeping in the same room with his friends is gay and he’d have a breakdown

[bonebrokebuddy]

The inherent homophobia of a 2010s cartoon male protagonist <3

[pianocat939]

I think I’m crumbling a little bit and kinda need to reset so I’m going to indulge myself.

This is purposely romantic, but I suppose in some parts can be platonic as well.

I’m a sad little human rn so I’m just gonna rant about my obsession for a while.

Tw: it’s long, everything is so inconsistent, this is a mess, manipulation, implied murder, worshipping, religious themes (as in MC is the religion), trauma, dependency issues,

Yandere Rottmnt Hcs (Only the turtles)

Raphael

Type: Dependent + Violent

• He’s a very very good boy who needs a lot of comfort from all the burden he’s had from being the eldest.

• Therapist MC? Therapist MC.

• Since the day you met, the two of you became much closer with the turtles. Especially Raphael.

• You found out you and him had some similarities, mostly with the problems in each other’s life. The feeling of responsibility weighing down on both of your lives; having trouble expressing weakness due to being always relied on.

• At first the poor big boy didn’t want to really open up in fear of being judged, but slowly he comes to spilling all his tears out.

• “I’m really glad we met, Y/n. Now I don’t feel so alone standing up so high.”

• Every time you visit the lair he excitedly pulls you to either the training grounds or his room. There, he shows his new moves or talks about his worries and thoughts.

• Overtime he becomes dependent on the attention; following you around to all the places you go to (without being seen as a mutant ofc).

• He just finds so much comfort in your love! He feels so safe and appreciated! All he wants to do is cling onto you!

• Of course, this becomes a problem. Primarily when you have things to do other than school or work. Even if you try to explain to him, he'll justify himself by insisting you need him just as much.

• Let's say you somehow manage to avoid him once. However, the Foot clan decides to show up and give you a little “nick”.

• Raph is right on the enemies' tail, but is enraged at the sight he finds himself at.

• Then, he breaks.

• Malewife turns into manslaughter. When the fight is over, his bloodied hands hug his terrified friend.

• "Hey, hey, it's ok now. I'm here, I'm always here. You were there for me, and now it's time I return the favor."

• He's definitely kidnapping you after the incident (or “keeping you safe” as he likes to say). His anxiety gets so bad he just can't think rationally if he doesn't know where you are at all times.

• Will ask for cuddles and forehead kisses 101%.

• Speaking of cuddles, he holds you so close and tight, to the point it’s a little suffocating. Again, calls it “keeping you safe”.

• Bro literally does almost everything with you; sleeping, eating, watching/playing anything, and ofc affection.

• He’s extremely dependent, maybe not on doing things per se, but needs you for emotional security.

• If you ever escape he'll go on a rampage, destroying everything around him until he finds you. It's so bad his brothers can't stop him.

• “Sweetie, where are you?! I’m freakin’ out!”

• His anxiety eats him up, to the point he panics if you aren’t in the same room 24/7. If you ever want privacy you’ll have to hand a plushie of yourself (graciously made by Mikey), but will only keep him busy for a few minutes.

• He’s very suffocating, but means well…If murdering and hiding bodies means well that is.

Leonardo

Type: Manipulative + Dependent (Indirectly)

• We all know he’s the master of mind games.

• His actions don’t really start until a little later in your friendship; only because he’s a dumbass about his feelings (like he's obviously some type of gay) and kept making excuses.

• It could be quite anything that will trigger him into realization but once he does, he’s unstoppable. The reason will probably be some heart-to-heart interaction, especially with all the trauma he keeps inside.

• The reason he even does manipulate is 1. he’s good at it, 2. he wants to have you rely on him, and to see him as your knight in shining✨ armor.

• Now to elaborate a bit more on the second reason he manipulates, he feels useless. He doesn't express it too much, mainly when he covers his emotions with humor. I think we all know he canonically feels useless (ex. Don Suave episode).

• So to simplify things, he feels useless, so to make himself feel better he tries to be useful to you...By making you feel helpless.

• He's subtle at first. For example, he comments about how mean your friends are sometimes, or why hanging out with him is much more fun with his portal ōdachi.

• "Y'know I was hoping that we could hang out in the Hidden City, but if you're going to shop with your other friends then I suppose I'll go alone."

• But later on, he feels you don't depend on him enough so he multiplies the intensity as time flows.

• Prepare for his unleashing. He'll start inviting you to missions (effortless ones, nothing to get you too injured) and save you if you're ever in a time of assistance. Don't worry, he'll protect you, you should never worry about your safety when you're with him.

• "You're safe, no danger when my fabulous presence is here~"

• If you're the type of person who doesn't mind being dependent then he'll be ecstatic. Calling you his "distressed darling" while snickering.

• He'll surprisingly confess like a normal, legal being. No, you can't reject him because he'll just manipulate you even more.

• If you don't like being dependent on someone too much then he might snap.

• Why can't you appreciate all he's done for you? He's just trying to be a good friend!

• He'll angrily confess, gripping your shoulders and a mad look in his eyes. "I'm doing this so that maybe, you would find me useful! So that maybe you'll see how much I- I- I love you!"

• He's a wreck and will continue to manipulate you until you finally accept his love and hardships. Once you do, you'll be a pretty normal couple, except for how oddly accepting you are of his actions.

• You're his little darling, all vulnerable without him right by your side.

(Sorry I have to go ham with him, he's the perfect material for this type of writing, and I'm similar to his personality so I can understand everything about him accurately.)

Donatello

Type: OVERPROTECTIVE + Controlling

• Really, his horrifying demeanor is quite the delicious thing to write.

• Not only is he someone of implied violence, but he's also the exact definition of many villain troupes. So he would be an excellent antagonist (which is quite literally what this blog is about).

• You see, villains usually tend to have some type of downfall before their absolute breaking. In this case, Othello Von Ryan, felt as if his inventions were never advanced enough for his family and friends (no he would never fucking admit it).

• But then you came along and god is he an excited little boy. If you show even the smallest interest in his work he'll chatter away, his eyes brighter than the moon.

• Praise him, he's hooked for life. Finally, someone sees his genius technology!

• "You need to lay your eyes upon my new circuit work! It is not only smaller, but it contains the inner workings of your phone but complex on the triple!"

• But then he notices that there's an outside world that you wander on; endangering your life every day.

• He rarely shows his emotions, but when he's alone he feels a dark worry clawing at his brain, feeding him horrible thoughts.

• What if you get hurt wandering the city? You never know what the dark corners appear to have. They could injure you so badly! Even worse, murder you!

• He overthinks things already as a sane person so it's not a surprise that he suddenly hands small but effective weaponry to you, a crooked smile of unease gleaming in the dim light of his lab.

• You appreciate the thought, but soon it becomes overboard with the things he suggests.

• He's made a protective shell for you (more on defense than offense), any sharp edges in the lair are covered in some sort of soft material, and any technology you used to own will now be destroyed and replaced by his handwork (no hackers in this household).

• You're so precious to him, and if the person he loves so much disappears, he doesn't know what he'll do.

• "I'm going to attach a non-tracking attachment to your phone, alright? You can never be sure about what people are trying to do." It includes a tracker that only he can access.

• If you ever try to stop his behavior he brushes it off and continues to work on his technology. Most likely some type of camera to watch you.

• One day, an incident happens near you and you end up being wounded, having to call him for help as the hospital bills are not worth it.

• He'll act slightly distressed, but nothing too noticeable; however, he's panicking inside and unleashing all his medical tools stashed in the corner of his lab.

• He'll ask his brothers to deliver you to his working space, getting all the chemicals and instruments ready. His mind is running wild, thinking of all possible situations that could happen.

• Once he knows you're safe and all operations are a success, he'll usher his family out of the room. Stating you need rest as he monitors your health.

• He clutches one of your undamaged limbs, tears pouring down as he blabbers, "I never express my true thoughts but darling you worried me so much! I could never bear the thought of you hurt without me there to save you!"

• You're literally unconscious and he'll be making promises about how he'll keep you safe and away from harm. Which may or may not be him keeping you trapped at the lair.

• Consider yourself an eternal hospital patient because he treats you like one. Your diet, physical activity, and even sleep schedule will be monitored by him. Daily check-ups are also another thing.

• If you ever question his drastic measure he'll just quietly mumble, "Hm whatever you say, now let's watch some Jupiter Jim as I assess your temperature and overall well-being."

• He'll admit his feelings in a secluded way and just assumes you like him back. He's the smartest, and most handsome man alive!

• Once you're together he'll try to be a little more expressive on his feelings, but not really. He'll for sure tell you his violent tendencies whenever he sees a friend of yours walking down the streets though.

• Overall, he worries a lot and can't seem to get rid of his anxiety that sky rockets whenever you're not in a designated safe area.

Michelangelo

Type: Obsessive + Delusional

• Another one great for writing. Now at first, he seems to be cheerful, and pure, when really he has a twisted mind himself (in his own adorable way ofc).

• He develops his obsession rapidly, within a few months of being friends with you. He'll ask questions about your interests and dislikes, trying to soak up any information as much as possible.

• He is an artist, so he loves viewing you as his "muse". He thinks that you can do no wrong and that the world is meant to revolve around you no one else.

• Needless to say, he loves recreating you in any shape or form. Sometimes, he'll create a recipe dedicated to you and only you. Heck, he'll try to name a shade of some color after you (even though it's already named).

• He wants to surround himself with the encompassment of you. The walls of his room are painted your favorite color, and pictures of you line up those same walls. He also has sketchbooks upon sketchbooks dedicated to you.

• "I think them standing with their arms spread out really captures their beauty!"

• He's obsessive for sure, but he's delusional too.

• He thinks that no one deserves to see you because he assumes they are worthless compared to your divinity. Which leads to him trying to worship you as if you're a god of some sort.

• He'll stop you from interacting with friends and family; with the only exceptions being his family (even then they are always on the lookout by Dr. Delicate Touch).

• Will he bring offerings? Yes, he will.

• It can be quite a few things. Most cuisine he's made or artworks he's created, but occasionally he'll write little poems about you. He is an embodiment of creativity after all.

• "My god! My deity! Will you take this artwork of you as an offering?"

• Don't try stopping him with anything really. He may be the youngest but he definitely knows exactly what to do may there be a chance you try to run away or distance yourself from him.

• He'll follow you and cling to you just like Raph, except more cautious. He believes your touch is holy so holding your hand and grabbing onto you is quite the revelation for him.

• If he ever does confess, it's a rollercoaster, honestly.

• He feels self-conscious about him not being your equal (how he puts it as anyway) and hesitates before dramatically expressing his undying love.

• He'll kiss your hand and act like you found a cure to all cancer or something.

• "Oh baby you make me so happy! I can't even say how much I love you!"

• Nothing really changes, he'll be more physically affectionate, and may possibly commit arson every time someone gets a little too close.

• But no one could ever blame such an adorable guy like him right? As if he wouldn't commit murder if it weren't for the laws of society!

——————————————————

This is such a mess but I don’t really care because all I’m trying to do is haul myself out of this goddamn depressive state.

Yes it’s 1 AM and I’m about to pass out.

- Celina

[theotherhalfoftheshell]

A drabble from one of the hundred Rockstar!Dabihawks AUs in my head ♡ (no beta, just brainrot)

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

Touya wiped the sweat from his brow looking out over the crowd in the sold out stadium, "so it's about that time in the show when the rest of the band gets to wimp out and take a little break while I play some acoustic songs,"

The crowd cheers and laughs as his bandmates pelt him with empty water bottles and towels voicing their disapproval as they leave the stage, "boo me all you want, I'm right!"

"As if you don't love having the stage to yourself, fucking diva," Spinner jokes, Touya filps him off in response.

"Anyway, normally I like to ask you guys what songs you want to hear but a certain stab happy princess,"

Toga reappears on the side of the stage, posing a little for the audience in case they didn't know who he was implying.

"Has made a request that I can't refuse for the sake of mine and everyone else's sanity," Touya jokes, rolling his eyes at the little kiss Toga blows his way. "Now I don't know if she's just trying to push the gay agenda or if she just really likes to remind people that I'm an avid Tay Haste fan."

The crowd erupts with cheers, it's not often they do covers on tour but their Haste covers were well loved by their fans, so Touya didn't really mind when Toga had requested they song; A little apprehensive since when the others rarely made request and they'd all seemed rather …chipper? When he'd argued to this one.

Ugh he's starting to sound as paranoid as Shiggy claims he is.

"Quit stalling lover boy!," Toga heckles.

"I can still change m mind ya know," Touya throws back, finally sitting with his guitar in hand. Toga ignores his empty threat.

"Well, you guys ready then?" He started strumming the first notes as the crowd cheered, "Our secret moments, in a crowded room…"

Touya couldn't help that his mind wandered to Keigo everytime he played this song, maybe that's why Toga picked it. A hopeless romantic through and through. And yeah he couldn't deny it fit him and Keigo a little too well.

When they first met (no buzz cut and Touyas hair box dyed black thank you very much) Keigo's management were keeping him on a short leash, saying he needed to portray the image of a ditzy flirt, easy but unattainable. The only time he was to be seen with others would be for pre approved contracted relationships that furthered his career.

Him falling head over tail feathers for the grungy reject of the Todoroki clan was definitely not going to fly. Touya returning those feelings and doing his best to break the pretty bird from his gilded cage didn't help either.

The years they had been forced to keep their relationship quiet had been miserable. Showing up to events separately, sneaking behind the scenes to properly congratulate each other, only being able to refer to each other as 'good friends' when the public saw how close they were.

"There is an indentation, in the shape of you," Touya grins to himself as he sings, "you made your mark on me a golden tattoo."

He'd taken Keigo to get his first tattoo the day his contract ended. Celebrating Keigo's new freedom and going public with their relationship the same day, to very mixed reviews.

Their loyal fans supported them wholeheartedly, having already guessed at their relationship from nearly the beginning, with a creepy amount of stalker like evidence and Touyas own lyrics to back up their claims.

Others hated that Touya, strung-out talentless nepo baby Touya, was tainting their golden boy.

It had only taken one interview with a newly freed Keigo absolutely gushing about Touya for them to realize their criticism would be falling on deaf ears.

"Now I woke up just in time, now I wake up by your side," Touya grins, really getting into the song at this point. Who could blame him when flashes of Keigo sleep rumbled hiding from the sun in their bed flashes through his mind, "my one and only, my life line."

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Compress sneaking across the stage, probably trying to get some videos for their socials. Touya can't deny how well videos of him simping do, almost as well as their unofficial band mascot, Mon-chans.

Fuck it, it's not like he ever wanted to hide his love he belts out the little 'ah, ah, ahs' silencing his guitar for the next part, "Say my name and everything just stops…"

"Touya."

His breath catches in his throat as Keigo's voice whispers his name over the stadium speakers.

Years of practice and performing did nothing to save him from stumbling over the next line as he tries to get his heart back to a normal rhythm, "I don't want you like a best friend."

The crowd erupts in cheers, almost as stunned as Touya.

So thats what those fuckers were up to. Oh god they definitely got a video of his face doing something stupid.spirits they would be teasing him about this for months.

Touya wonders if he can get a version of the song with Keigos voice in it for himself. He'd never be able to hear the song another way now.

[rekikiri]

there are a lot of things in aftg that I think really could’ve just. not been there and I’d have much preferred it. here’s a bit of a vent about things that I dislike about canon (aside from the obvious handling of mental illness and use of slurs and stuff like that. it’s mostly the first two because I do see people talk about 3 a good bit)

~

1. andrew and roland. this is such a big one for me because like? the twins were underage when they started at edens. at oldest he was probably 17 when it started. and I saw somewhere that he was 23?? like that’s all kinds of gross.

NOT TO MENTION. andrew literally says,

“"Presumably he thinks you're as bad at following directions as he is," Andrew said. "Roland knows I don't like being touched."”

andrew literally had to handcuff roland to make sure he followed his boundaries. even if they were the same age, that’s so fucked up. if he didn’t like the rule, don’t hook up with that person. it’s that simple. im sure there were PLENTY of other people willing to hook up with roland, so why did he choose the underage kid with boundaries you won’t respect??

I really wish I saw more fics of people being upset when they find out about it. if I was nicky and I found out my 23 year old supposed friend was sleeping with my underage cousin that I was the guardian of, id have been fucking livid.

anyways fuck roland, she could’ve given us such a cool bartender and we got That

~

2. like why did kevin need a girlfriend? that we only hear about once briefly then meet her officially for a second then she’s gone? and I really don’t like how they met in the first place. he was a CHILD, at oldest when they got together he had to be like 19 because he turned 20 after he moved to the foxes. like yeah he was legal by then but she knew him FROM WHEN HE WAS A CHILD. he was like 13 when she was 18.

and then again, when they see each other again in the kings men. they can’t speak in mixed company?? how brain washed could you be from the ravens. she so clearly is just willing to turn a blind eye to all the fucked up shit that happened there. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she defended riko

~

3. I really wish nicky respected boundaries. it bothers me that the first openly gay character in the book refuses to respect others boundaries. trying to convince neil he’s gay when he repeats he’s not, kissed him while he was drugged, and the comment about matt being “hung like a bull” is so gross. it implies that nicky was looking in the changing rooms, which is the whole thing that people worry about when changing with queer people :/

[spaceumbredoggos]

So Much For Stardust Chapter Five

Major Trigger warning: Self harm, implied grooming, suicide attempt, parental abuse, psych ward themes, demonic possession, a really long chapter (not as long as the original draft because I didn’t kill Scalesy. I decided not to do that because he’s cute.), gore, drugs and alcohol, and lots of lore. I’d be surprised if Tumblr doesn’t mature rate this like it did to like two of my chapters. Enough rambling.

Kenz’s POV:

Blood. Blood as far as the eye could see. Blood in puddles. Blood in clumps. Torn skin smushed into the formerly clean white walls. Clots of blood staining the anti-suffocation sheets and blankets. The metallic acrid tangy smell. The dark crimson red. The sticky feel. The sharp irony taste. It’s everywhere. It’s all over the bed. All over the walls. Bloody triangles painted all with one eye. Right beside me was the razor my roommate had snuck in. She’s in a padded room now, pumped up with booty juice.

I twitched in my bed, waking up from the blur of the fight. The fight that I lost. How could I be so foolish? How could I have not been able to protect myself? I won a trophy in a Jui Jitsu tournament after all. I shouldn’t be losing fights.

It’s the nurses faults for this. Fuck them!!! Fuck everyone in this cruel world!!! They knew that my roommate was dangerous. How could they allow this? I’m about to die!!!

A nurse bolted in, frantically trying to stop the bleeding. I started sobbing, curling my fingers in. “Why didn’t you save me?!” I blinked and passed out.

I woke up in a different psych ward. Older. The wounds gone. What a terrible dream. I sat upright and clutched my umbreon plush for comfort. The trauma of the nurse’s negligence thankfully was more mental than physical. My roommate had thankfully never hurt me back then. But the thought that she might have given half the chance hurt like knives. I don’t want to be here. No one wants to be here. They separate us by gender, when I could be gay for all anyone can know. Boys can’t talk to girls. Girls can’t talk to boys. They can’t even be in the same room. Unlike the last place, you can’t even choose your menu.

At least my roommate seems to know how to get out of this place. Fake it till you make it. Go to every group. Get all the points you can. Eat at least 50% of your food no matter how disgusting it was. Even if all you want to do is sleep.

At least I’ll never end up in one of these places again, right? Right?

I gasped awake, shaking in my blankets. These were the blankets my gran had brought with me in to the ER. They managed to wash all the blood off of them. I only ever see the confines of this place. Am I in a psych ward? Is my dad’s old family friend my doctor? He seemed to know this stuff. Where’s everyone else? Why can’t I leave this room? At least Scalesy is my friend. However annoying he is. He won’t let me stand up. But why?

No one explicitly stated this was a psych ward, but the way Ford watches me, even in my own sleep. It feels like it. I wish I could move and walk. But now, I’m trapped in one of my false awakening dreams. “Not again!!! Not fucking again!!!” I thrashed myself, trying to wake up. But I couldn’t even move. “No no no!!!”

“Yes yes yes.” Bill turned my head over to face him, laughing his ass off. “Why are you here?”

“Stay still!!!” He snarled, his hands glowing in that familiar blue flame. I shook, only able to watch as Bill tore my soul out of my body. I gazed down, watching my own emerald green orbs turn bright electric yellow with slitted pupils. This isn’t a dream anymore.

Panicking, I searched around for Ford. To my surprise, he wasn’t in this room. I turned around to glare at Bill. “WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HIM?”

“He’s just asleep in his room. The perfect opportunity to—“

Scalesy hissed and flared up his hood. Bill glared at the snake, raising his fist to smash its head. But it only shook in the air and fell to his side. “Fuck. I forgot that this body has too much empathy for animals. But what’s a snake to a man, anyways?”

Scalesy hissed and struck without biting, trying to intimidate Bill. “Aww. Your little hissy fit routine may work on predators, but I’m not gonna hurt you. Why do you insist on protecting this kid who can’t even speak parseltongue? The kid’s expendable. So what if they saved your life? They’re ruining mine!!!”

Bill managed to stand up, something I was unable to do in my body with Scalesy pestering me to lay down. Scalesy hissed and tried to constrict around Bill’s neck, wrapping his tail in between the cushions on the couch. Bill tucked and rolled, accidentally knocking the wind out of Scalesy and rendering him unconscious but not dead. Scalesy woke up, coiling and poising himself to strike. Bill grabbed a hook and pinned Scalesy down, then placed him in a terrarium that Ford had set up. He duct taped the lid on and poked air holes with a fork. He dusted off his hands. “Now that snake nanny has been taken care of.”

I tried to get the duct tape off of the terrarium, but I was tugged forward by a force towards my body. Bill grabbed Ford’s bottle of expensive vodka and started chugging it. He stopped mid sip and laughed. “Ahahaha!! This kid can’t handle their booze. Just a mere taste causes a burning in their mouth. This body rejects it!!! But little do they know that vodka completes me.” Bill managed to force it down and found the bottle of my pills on the counter. “Here we go. Trazadone. My favorite for knocking kids senseless.”

“What?”

“Why do you think you were prescribed this? It’s the easiest way to let me into your mind. Sixer is trying to titrate you off the stuff for his more ‘natural sleep remedies’ like cannabis and better sleep hygiene. Can’t have that when the CBD can heal your brain and cause you to make sense of what’s happening in a healthy way.” Bill downed fifty pills and stumbled around, scrambling on the floor. “Best of all, Sixer will think you lost your mind. You’ve tried this before and failed. Gonna make sure that doesn’t happen. Gotta head to the kitchen for a quickie sec.”

“Wait wait no!!!!”

“Aww. Does someone value their life too much? How about this? Your only reason for your pathetic existence was to serve me. And now that people are catching on, I better hide the evidence. Can’t have you healing. If it weren’t for that Cherub, you would have been disposed of earlier.”

“You mean—“

“That’s right. You weren’t just suddenly suicidal for no reason. That stupid mutt had to become a cherub and turn your life for the better after my meddling. I need you no longer. Can’t have you living and explaining my plans.” Bill stumbled into the elevator he managed to get open with a button. He managed to make it to the mystery shack gift shop before faceplanting onto the floor. A tall woman with short red hair wearing green flannel and a goth woman with red eyes and silver hair were conversing at the cash register about a party.

“Shit!! Ice bag and Moon Wolf.”

The two immediately turned to glare at Bill. They arched defensively. I scrambled to find something, anything to use for a vessel to tell them what happened. My eye finally caught the Minecraft fox plush on Bill’s back that I was sleeping with. I grabbed it, levitating it off the air.

“I’m so sorry about this, guys. I don’t know who you are, but my name’s Kenz. The one who Bill is possessing—“

The red haired woman threw the axe at the plush, causing it to cut in half.

“Wendy!!!”

“Shit.” Wendy rushed over to grab her axe and facepalmed as I scrambled to find my shiny Umbreon plush. “Luckily for the two of you, I sleep with more than one comfort plushie because I’m autistic as fuck and—“

“Shut the fuck up, Zie Zie!!!”

“Bill!!!”

“Loona.”

“Wendy, Loona. Welp. Now that we’re aquatinted, can you please—“

Bill chucked the plush I was possessing at the wall and stumbled up towards the kitchen. “Stay out of my way.”

“Is that vodka?”

“Just let me dispense of this body and I’ll deal with you later—“ Loona pinned Bill to the wall. “Wendy, call Ford while I hold them in place.”

Suddenly, “I Hope You Die In A Fire” by the Living Tombstone (which I was listening to before I went to sleep.) Started playing on Bluetooth on the mystery shack intercom. Ford yawned as he looked like he was fresh out of bed. He drank some coffee and noticed the situation.

“Let me go you mop with fangs!!! Emo and five nights at Freddy’s will never— Wait, I can’t say that. No no no no. I’m not letting myself stoop that low. Why does Zie Zie have to have such a great taste in music? Shit!!! How did Sixer plan this far in advance?”

Ford shook his head. “What do you mean? I didn’t plan for this at all.”

“Sure. Sure you didn’t. Kenz’s phone just happened to be connected to the Bluetooth playing a five nights at Freddy’s song—“

“If it were me, it wouldn’t be a five nights at Freddy’s song. It would have been—“

“Shit. I forgot you have the taste of a snail.”

Ford glared at Bill as if something snapped. “I HAVE TASTE THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!”

“YOU KNOW WHAT? shit. can you write this down, Moon wolf? FUCK YOU!!! FUCK YOUR COW!!! FUCK YOUR MOM LIKE A PIG!!! FUCK—“

“Are you done yet?” I then noticed Bill steal a knife from Loona’s pocket. “I got a stabby! You’ll be missing Zie Zie badly!! I just got a stabby!!!” It was at that moment that the drugs and alcohol had started to kick in. “Fahk…” He rolled his head back. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Loony… Loony Toony. Did you know that—“

“Get out of their body, you asshole!!!”

“Don’t you wanna fu—“

“NO!!! THERE WILL BE NO FUCKING!!! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BODY BEFORE I FIND OUT HOW TO RELEASE SCALESY!!!! THEN ITS ALL OVER FOR YOU, HOE!!!!”

Bill burst out laughing, but in a drunken giggle. He then stabbed himself in the shoulder over and over again, staining the floor scarlet before Loona took the knife away from him. “MY TOY!!!”

Wendy proceeded to tickle Bill. “Fahk!!!!!”

“Get out!!”

“Yeah!!!” Suddenly, I started to feel the effects of the drugs and alcohol. “No no no… I’m in sensory pain…”

“Haha!!! Weak!!!”

Ford joined in on the tickling as Bill tried to bite him, but ended up accidentally giving me my body back. “Augh… Oww. Okay. I’m back I’m back… You can stop. Please, get these drugs out of me.”

Ford breathed a sigh of relief as I started to throw up. Loona smiled as I gazed away from her. “Dude. That was incredible.”

“I didn’t do anything.” I leaned on Loona. “Yeah you did.”

“Name one thing that I did.”

“You warned us.”

“So?”

“You faced that fucker like it was just another Tuesday.” Loona was clearly impressed as Wendy burst out laughing. “Kid. You’re amazing!”

“I wasn’t brave or strong. I only spoke from a plushie.”

“But you didn’t give up. And you were brave. You just don’t want to admit it. I’d probably be scared shitless.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better. I can tell when someone isn’t being genuine. And as far as I can tell, no one ever is.” I bristled, stumbling over to the couch and passing out.

I woke up feeling batter after Ford had successfully delivered the antidote. “Thank god that shit show was over.” I turned around, sighing and shaking. Wendy and Loona exchanged concerned glances as Mabel handed me my Minecraft fox plush back. It was all sewn up like brand new. “Here you go.”

“You didn’t have to do that… I could’ve…” I sat there, flashing back to when my dad would berate me.

“Stop wasting your pocket money on stupid plushies.”

“But they make me so happy!!!”

“Grow the fuck up!!! You’re eighteen.”

“But it’s my money! I earned it with those straight A’s!! It’s my graduation money.”

“Hey, is everything okay?” Mabel’s words broke me out of the trance. I didn’t realize that I was flashing back. I held the Minecraft Fox plush close to me. “Yeah. I’m fine. I should probably head on home…”

Everyone exchanged nervous glances. Ford looked the most distraught. “What? Bill’s not gonna hurt them, right?”

“Even if he wasn’t, you can’t go back home.” Ford sighed. I stood up, inching towards the door. “What do you mean? Of course I can! I can… I can…”

“You can’t even make it past the town border.”

“Listen Mr. Know it all!!! I don’t know who you think you are and why do you think that just because your brother is an old family friend of my dad’s that you know what’s best for me. Because the last time I let that happen…” I flashed back to when I got out of the hospital back when I was ten and everything was taken out of my room due to the recommendation of my ABA therapist who happened to be a family friend.

She took everything from me. I held back the tears. My friends. My family. My relationships. All to try to make me normal. She wouldn’t let me be me. I bolted out the door. I can make it to the town border. I can do it!!!

“Quit laying on your ass and be a productive member of society.”

“The world does not revolve around you!!!”

“Nonbinary doesn’t exist. If I use your pronouns I will be setting you up for failure.”

“During the transition to independence, Kenz will allow their father to participate in all aspects of support, including, but not limited to medical, education, housing, and financial. The next steps towards this will be signing over power of attorney to my dad.”

“I will NOT engage in outbursts behavior or be disrespectful to my mom or dad while they adjust to using my preferred pronouns.”

“If I do not agree to or comply with the terms of this contract, other housing arrangements will be made through Tri Counties Regional Center (TCRC) and the state of California.”

The flashbacks echoed in my mind as I rushed over towards the edge of the town border. I took a few steps forward, only to be flung back by a brutal imaginary force. “Come on! Come on!! Come on!!!” I threw myself at the border over and over again, but kept getting flung back. I collapsed, exhausted beyond belief and the wind knocked out of me. “No!!!” I screamed, reaching towards the border. I tried once again to fling myself across it, only to be flung back again.

I heard Ford’s car pull up as I kept flinging myself across the border towards the setting sun. Mosquitoes started to bite my arms as I kept launching myself over and over again. Bruises formed on my arms and cuts were scraped on my knees.

“Kenz!!!”

I ignored Ford’s desperate plea as I kept launching myself in the air. Footsteps sounded as Loona and Wendy rushed up to me, grabbing me as I tried to get across. “JUST LET ME TRY ONE MORE TIME!!!”

Loona and Wendy shook their heads as I struggled against them, but was too exhausted to do it for too long. “Wh-why? Why won’t the border let me across? Am I dead? Is this hell?”

Ford shook his head as I fell limp on the ground, shaking and panting. Wendy and Loona backed off into the car to give Ford and I some space. “Kenz. Listen to me. You are trapped in Gravity Falls because of Gravity Falls’s natural law of weirdness magnetism.”

“But how does it let you across when you’re just as weird as me?” I shook, flinching away from Ford. “It’s because you’re… you’re… Fuck. I don’t know this for sure. But I have a hunch and it isn’t something you want to hear. But listen to me.”

“No. Listen to me!!!” I stood up, my knees buckling. “You may know how this town works and how everything is set in place but don’t you dare assume that you know me or anything I’ve been through. And don’t you think because you’re Mr smart guy that I’m gonna let you tell me what’s best for me, because I spent several months trying to undo the bat-shittery that my father and his little friends put me through. And I’m not having my progress be undone because of some sort of cosmic conspiracy that I didn’t ask to be a part of!!!”

“Be honest…” Tears filled my eyes. “Am I really too weird? Too weird to be around normal people? Am I just a mistake? Am I even human?” I turned around, trying to stifle the tears. Ford rubbed my shoulders, but I flinched away and tried to run.

“All anyone’s ever done was either leave or bring me trouble!!! How do I know that none of you will hurt me too? Am I just better off dead like Bill thinks?! Who am I anymore?!!!!!” I broke down, collapsing on the ground, the pain in my heart tearing itself in half. “Kenz. Look. It’s gonna be okay.”

“How do you know, Ford?”

“Because I’ve been in the exact same situation you were in. I know it seems like the world is against you and everywhere you turn is filled with people who hate you. But sometimes, it takes someone to help you out. Someone who refuses to leave your side and refuses to let you go.”

“Just who the fuck is that dependable?” I held my Minecraft fox plush tight to my chest. Ford smiled, rubbing my head. “There’s lots of people who care about you. Wendy and Loona drove with me out to the edge of town just to make sure you didn’t accidentally kill yourself trying to leave. They would have let you die if they cared any less. Kenz. Listen to me. I know what it’s like to be stripped of everyone you’ve trusted. I know what it’s like to be used, and it’s not fun. You don’t have to do this alone.”

I wiped the snot off my nose. “Kenz, let me tell you something. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for not giving up. For holding on so well for so long. You managed to keep Bill secret for far longer than I could ever have. I can tell by the way you shake when his name is mentioned that he’s been targeting you for years. You were put in an unfair situation as a kid, yet look at you. You’re forgiving, kind, empathetic beyond all means, and you have a sense of humor about it. You are smarter than a lot of people at your age, you know that? You managed to survive it all—“

“It was just dumb luck. I’m nothing, okay?” I shook as Ford reached out for a hug, causing me to flinch back. “I’m not brave just because I catch bugs and lizards and stuff, okay? I’m terrified of people. Terrified that they might hurt me. Terrified that they would leave me. Terrified that I have to leave them. Animals are different. They’re always around. They live such short lives that you’re a huge part of theirs whether you like it or not. They don’t like people leaving any more than I do. And too many humans take advantage of animals just like they take advantage of me!!!”

Ford nodded. “You’ve been taken advantage of too, eh?”

“Stop acting like you know what it’s like. Because you don’t. Okay? You don’t know what it’s like waking up in the middle of the night a shit ton of nights screaming your lungs out reliving every shitty hand you’ve dealt yourself. You don’t know what it’s like hearing the voice inside your own head that isn’t yours tell you things far beyond anyone’s darkest nightmares. You haven’t had things done to you that you wouldn’t wish on your worse enemy. That you can’t tell anyone that it happened because it was in your dreams and therefore, you’re crazy. You don’t know what it’s like, having everything taken from you from people who were supposed to help. Twice.” I stood defensively at the border. “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with this bullshit routine of trying to help and trying to get me to heal like the rest of my dad’s shitty family friends. Because I’m not. Okay?” I sighed. “Just let me go. That way I won’t hurt anyone.”

Ford gazed at me, holding back the tears. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Kenz, have you been trying to heal from all of this shit for yourself, or just to prove to your father that you don’t need him?”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. “But I was doing everything right. Seeking out therapists. Reaching out to friends. And I would still be doing everything right—“

“But Bill—“

“I’ve had enough of Bill’s bullshit. ‘Kay? I’ve been trying to get that no good fucker to shut up for years. I’ve been ignoring him ever since I left that crisis home. And that was the closest I ever felt to free. Now I’m trapped in some sort of prison because I can’t get him out of my head. Everything I ever did led me to this point. I got myself into this hole. I can sure as fuck…” I bit my tongue. I don’t know that. I shook. “Look. How the fuck as I supposed to know you’re not like all the other family friends my dad has called forth. How do I know you’re not in contact with him right now?”

Ford sighed, sitting next to me. “I was in contact with him since before the Pandemic. That’s true. I wanted to come down and visit. But, shit happened. I wanted to tell Jacob that it was a shitty idea to pull you from school and not let you join band. Covid fucked a lot of shit up.” He sighed again. “I would’ve gone far as to fight him for custody because he was taking everything out of your room. He bragged about that shit a lot. He told me how you were a brat who refused to grow up. He said that you were ungrateful after he ‘fought so hard for you.’ But you know what I saw?”

“What?”

“I saw a man who was only presenting himself as a father as an accessory. He wanted you as a trophy. As inspiration. He thought being a special needs parent meant that you had no autonomy of your own. And he only sought those out who thought the same. Stanley told me about UCLA and what happened with your mother. He was shocked to hear that you were hospitalized three times.”

I sniffed, holding back more tears. “My point is, none of that would have happened if your dad accepted your autism diagnosis back when you were three as something that was a minority like being trans. He didn’t even see that you were struggling with gender dysphoria as early as age nine.”

“And how the fuck do you know that?” I bristled up, which Ford was unfazed by. “I spoke with Ann a lot when you were in a coma. I also spoke with Stanley. He visited a lot back then, and knew from the way you didn’t hang out with a lot of the girls at your school. You never had dolls and other girl stuff. You played Minecraft a lot—“

“Lots of tomboys get into video games. I was never sporty, okay? And I still watched frozen and tangled when I was younger—“

“Be honest with yourself. Did you ever really see yourself in those princesses, or did you really just say that just to appease people.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not denying that I’m trans neutral. Okay? I just don’t understand why you think it’s okay to involve yourself in my business so much. And don’t say some mushy shit like you care, or you see yourself in me… or…” It was at this point I broke down. “Fuck. I’m sorry…”

“Kenz. Don’t apologize.”

“But all the things I said—“

“Were valid. I know you’re scared to trust again. I was too.”

“Promise me one thing, okay?” I gazed into his ice blue eyes hopefully. “Promise me whatever happens that you don’t leave like everyone else. That you don’t hurt me like everyone else and tell me it’s all my doing. The second you break this promise, you’ll wish you hadn’t. You’ll never hear or see from me again. No one will. I’ve already lost everything enough times.”

Ford tensed up, but nodded. He must notice how hurt I am. I backed away, cornered by the town border. Ford held out his hand and smiled. “I promise. Just please trust me.”

I shook one more time before nodding, following Ford to the back seat of his car. “Okay.”

[phoenixyfriend]

I want an AU where Anakin and Padme get a divorce halfway through the war on AMICABLE TERMS instead of the "Padme was using him" that I saw recently. Potentially it's in the context of that "Anakin's crush on Padme was comphet because she was an unattainable ideal, he realizes he's gay after he actually attains said ideal" AU.

He still goes over to her apartment when he's meant to be on meditative retreats, but now it's to lie back on her couch with take-out and complain about things, and she complains right back because the Senate is terrible.

Padme has a gay best friend but he's not helpful with fashion at ALL he just tells her she looks great in everything which is very flattering, but also doesn't really do much for her to decide on which headdress to wear to the gala. He can do all the handyman jobs around her apartment, though. She tells him it isn't necessary, but he does it anyway.

Palps sabotages Padme's birth control but nothing happens because she and Anakin aren't actually sleeping together anymore.

Anakin always greets Padme with a huge smile and a hug that spins her around because he's no longer worried about someone figuring out he's married because said marriage no longer exists.

Anakin at one point just whining on Padme's couch like "I'm surrounded by so many hot guys, and I can't hit on any of them, because I'm their commanding officer! Do you know how much that sucks? It sucks so much. Padme. Padme it sucks so goddamn much."

People keep hinting at Anakin's marriage and now that he's not panicking about it he just fucks with them by pretending to be oblivious to the insinuations.

Drunk Anakin comes out to Obi-Wan with the usual 'so many hot dudes and I can't date any of them' complaint and everyone in the room is just like "wait... wait I thought you had a thing with Amidala......"

Something something Anidala maintain the illusion of being a somewhat exclusive couple so Padme can imply to gross dudes that she has a violently protective S/O, which is... mostly true? He's still a significant figure in her life! He is violent! He is protective! He will hurt them if they keep hitting on her! He's just no longer married to her.

Anakin gets confirmation in a roundabout way that he's not going to get punished for a marriage that no longer exists and then just starts referring to Padme as My Ex-Wife and it's uncomfortable for literally everyone except the two of them.

(Same vibes as introducing your wife as "my ex-girlfriend.")

Ventress: Oh? And how would you feel, Skywalker, if I went and stole that pretty little girlfriend of yours for-- Anakin: Ex-wife. Ventress: ...what? Anakin: Get it right, she's my ex-wife. The divorce went through months ago, you're really behind. Ventress: ...what? Anakin: You probably have a shot, though, she likes projects. Ventress: ...what?

In her defense, Ventress meant "kidnap for torture." Anakin was the one that heard "steal yo girl."

As suggested by @thisarenotarealblog on discord:

Anakin: Hey babe you know how you like disasters Padme: I'm listening

Sabe: She's a separatist assassin, my Lady! Padme: Thats what she does, not what she is.

And from @atagotiak at the same:

Now, Ventress being a separatist assassin does make things complicated but it’s not like massive differences of political opinion is a turnoff for Padmé.

IMO Padme's bi/lesbian lover would have to be either Ventress or Bo-Katan, they are the only ladies that have anywhere near Anakin's batshit moral nonsense going on while still plausibly being someone she could turn.

Padme needs a non-hopeless "I can fix them" project in her life.

Anakin, doing the Will Smith pose as Padme disembarks from a ship: BEHOLD, MY GLORIOUS EX-WIFE. Padme: [laughing indulgently] Obi-Wan: [pinching the bridge of his nose] Mace: 😒

[inkmemes]

young  royals  (  2021  )  sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  netflix’s  swedish  ya  drama.  non-contextual  spoilers.  trigger  warning  for  mentions  of  sexual  activity,  drugs,  alcohol,  death,  implied  internalised  homophobia,  bullying.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“at least you can stay for a cup of coffee?”

“hey, wait up. did you sleep together?” 

“he's probably making out with someone. forget it.”

“i can't take it anymore.”

“what are you doing?”

“and he had to finish your sentence. what's going on? you like him.”

“every time you see your dad, you get all depressed.”

“you're still here, so obviously you must want something.”

“are you high? what the hell are you on?”

“does this make you horny?” 

“i like [town name], but i don't want to live here forever.”

“you can leave now. go home. i'm staying here for the weekend.”

“do you want chocolate?”

“how do you feel?” 

“it's kind of hard to tell them apart, you know.” 

“you're a worthless drunk.”

“you … you need to figure out what you want. and you can take all the time you need. and i respect that. but you have to do it by yourself. i don't want to be anyone's secret.”

“you have to stop pretending that you're not afraid.”

“that's the thing, i just don't want that.”

“it's something new. something fresh.”

“can we talk privately for a minute?” 

“and if anyone gives you a hard time, you know, just let me know, and i'll take care of it.” 

“you do know you don't need to hide?” 

“are you gonna let us in?”

“promise to let me know if there's anything i can do.”

“hey, we won't go blind from your moonshine, right?”

“i'm just getting a good vibe. that's all.”

“you're so fucking pathetic.”

“you realize that this will have consequences?”

“he's such a fucking idiot.”

“i wanted us to have a few minutes alone.”

“when you're young, love feels like the most important thing in the world.” 

“i really like you.”

“felt like i had to rescue you from that situation.”

“it got so damn hot in there, i thought i'd get some fresh air.”

“you are allowed your own opinions. it's cool.”

“i've seen the way you look at each other.”

“here, this one is a little big for me, but i think it'll look great on you.”

“do you think royal dick is different than regular?”

“you're the only one here i feel i can actually talk to.” 

“i haven't heard anything yet, but i'll tell you as soon as i do.”

“you can't just lie here jerking off.”

“i don't want to go to some fucking boarding school!”

“i've missed this place so much.”

“are you going to horror movie night on friday?”

“but i like you. and that is not fake.”

“you don't need to share everything.”

“we should go to a concert again sometime.”

“you're fucking crazy!”

“where have you been? i've been trying to reach you.”

“just don't use the school's wi-fi for porn surfing. could be embarrassing.”

“but no matter what, they can't dictate what you say.”

“sorry about last night.”

“i don't want to talk to you!”

“i don't wanna sound like an idiot.”

“i was thinking, would you like to have a sleepover at my place? because that's something friends do. it's going to be really cozy.”

“i think maybe we should forget about that.”

“you can't really see that it is you.”

“i mean, it could be anyone. it's so fucking stupid.”

“i don't want to say anything.” 

“now you're doing it again. you're trying to take care of me.” 

“i can take it, it's okay.”

“that's not true. i haven't spoken to my parents.”

“we haven't done anything wrong.”

“you're beautiful! you're so beautiful.”

“i'm gay, [name].”

“seriously? what the fuck is your problem?”

“you keep letting people piss on you!”

“i just assumed you didn't want special treatment.”

“keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“so you thought you'd start spreading false rumours without having any proof?” 

“i just didn't want to lose you.”

“uh, there's pizza left if you want some.”

“everybody thinks you're perfect. you know that, right?”

“he's just been outed.”

“i'm going to fuck this up.”

“he bloody ruined my fucking life!”

“why are you sitting in your room sulking when you have a crush to hang out with?”

“hi. sorry, i was feeling a bit better. so i thought it was okay that i hung out with some friends.”

"everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want.”

“i woke up in my own bed. that's always something.”

“could i just have one second? just one second alone, please?”

“i’m sorry. but it was, like, the only way.”

“i thought, everyone deserves a second chance.”

“i'm sorry about the mess. i wasn't expecting such distinguished company.”

“i just don't want you to be treated badly again.”

“oh, fuck.”

“you don't even… aren't you even gonna answer me?”

“i didn't know that one was supposed to sign up.”

“in real life, you don't pay to get ahead.”

“and what the fuck does your dad do?”

“let's try to have some table manners.”

“it's, like, really serious.”

“who the hell can live like this for three fucking years?”

“that's what happens when you buy the cheap ones.”

“i need your help with something. ”

“being a prince is not a punishment, but a privilege.”

“it's awesome to just chill out.”

“or maybe he lied about that too. what do i know?”

“you have to give people a chance.”

“you have to try to see it from my perspective.” 

“what the hell's this?”

“what happened to "we should forget about it"?”

“stop being so fucking stubborn and try to understand my situation.”

“sometimes it's better not to say everything.” 

“i was just bored.”

“have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“sometimes it's better to keep quiet.”

“can i get you some coffee?”

“nobody else cares about these things.”

“i lost track of time.”

“everybody does the same things and everybody knows everybody.”

“thanks for rescuing me yesterday.”

“remember when he came up to us the first week and was like, "what's up?"”

“i need you to delete all our texts.”

“i can't keep doing this anymore.”

“are you gonna let them go on with their bullshit?”

“i want to be with you.”

“here's a blanket, a pillow, and bed sheets. there you go.”

“okay, yeah. you don't seem to have grasped what i'm trying to say.”

“it's usually boring as hell.”

“he's been dealing to us for months.”

“i don't want to talk to him.”

“don't you wanna date [name] anymore?”

“i don't know why he's started texting me again. he knows i don't want anything to do with him.” 

“yeah, we had a shitload of drugs.”

“we could murder someone, and nobody would say a word.”

“she needs some fun.”

“he's just doing it to fuck with me.”

“it's such a weird question.”

“i just wanted to say hi. i don't believe we've met. ”

“but i still want us to be friends.”

“if i were to stay here… would you… like to keep me company? just you and me.”

“everything's, like, upside down now.”

“have you always lived here?”

“damn it. sorry. shit. i completely forgot.”

“i'm sure someone has a story to tell.”

“you've got to put yourself first. i mean, no matter what he thinks about it.”

“come on! you can't just sit there stuck in your room.”

“you can snuggle up in my safe arms if it gets scary.”

“i want to live a normal life.”

“let me have a look. you can hardly see it.”

“any other dick that's been sucked?”

“you just expect everything to be on your terms.”

“i want to know everything!”

“you don't have to go there. i'll take care of myself.”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” 

“i'll just stay in and go to bed early.”

“thanks for explaining the schedule.”

“i'd rather die.”

“i don't want you to be mad.”

“promise to tell me if something is wrong.”

“i can't be dressed like this if you're dressed like that.” 

“it's really complicated.”

“it feels like you don't care what people think about you, or if you have a lot of friends and stuff.” 

“nobody asked you to come. feel free to leave if you want.”

“well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this!” 

“there isn't so much to do around here.”

“you've become such a snob.”

“i know you're only trying to help me.” 

“do you like it here?”

“i don't wanna go in there. we're not even invited. fuck this.”

“don't you think it's weird [name] invited us to come?”

“if they hadn't been here, would you've, uh, made out with me?”

“so, you're an actual proper couple now?”

“you're thinking about someone else.”

“you're right. we're doing this together.”

“thanks… for nothing.”

“why are you even so obsessed with him?”

“i want you to hold me.”

“call me when you want to be picked up.”

“what the fuck do you care?” 

“i don't think we're a couple or anything. i don't know what it is.”

“you never asked me!”

“your focus should be on comforting me so that i can comfort him.” 

“it's not that hard. you have to be able to keep up appearances.”

“famous people make videos like that.”

“maybe somebody forgot to tell me, as usual.”

“just make a move on [name] and show him what you want.”

“you wanna stay a while and jam?”

“have you talked to your parents about it?”

“a diverse bunch of losers, who'll never amount to anything.”

“why can't i decide how the hell i want to live?”

“apparently, i'm the only one who doesn't know everybody.”

“i used to have straight a's on every test.”

“it will damage our reputation.”

“i'm fucking starving.”

“why is it called tax "evasion" but welfare "scam"? it's all right that rich people cheat, but when poor people do it, it's messed up. for rich people, it's not even called "welfare”, it's called "deduction."”

“what the fuck is rowing?”

“what the hell have you done, [name]?”

“good voice, man.”

“why can't i just have a relationship with him?”

“did you have fun last friday?”

“all the people are fake. they're made out of metal.”

what do you want me to say? i'm sorry!”

“is this some kind of prank?”

“i like you when you are yourself!”

“but you like him, don't you?”

“she shouldn't talk to you like that.”

“are you into him?”

“something's not right, i think we should head back to the road.”

“do you have trouble sleeping?”

“doesn't anyone care what i want?”

“just don't tell anyone that i've been here.”

“i was going to text you back, but…”

“your only mistake was that you hung out with the wrong kind of people.”

“i just wanted to help.”

“i know you'll use anything to get high or drunk.” 

“it's time to stop being so selfish.”

“i just want my fucking money.”

“you should've planned ahead. didn't you bring a sandwich?” 

“who the fuck wants to be normal anyway?”

“you fucking told me you were the one i could always come to!”

“i take it back.”

“i can see there's something going on.”

“i have to finish getting ready, so if you could please leave.”

“no one likes me when i'm myself.” 

“i hope you have a nice christmas.”

“i'm gonna do the wrong things, say the wrong things.”

“my mom is gonna kill me.”

“do you remember what you said to me last night?”

“i cannot be dragged into this.”

“i like you too.”

“you're no longer a part of my family.”

“it's well-suited for smaller people.”

“i assume that he thought that it would make him popular.”

“i didn't ask for this!”

“it's no problem. i like doing it.”

“it feels like i'm gonna throw up.”

“don't i get any breakfast?”

“whatever i do, i can't do anything right.”

“we haven't been to any party whatsoever.”

“did you get my texts?”

“i think it sounds romantic.”

“uh, wait, you have to come to the horror movie night on friday.”

“i liked what you said in there, [name].”

“okay, maybe he used to be a player, but love can actually change you.”

“it's nice to make an effort and dress up for dinner.” 

“i'm in a fucked-up situation and i'm trying to talk to you.” 

“you don't understand. i was gonna pay it.”

“you're not that kind of guy.”

“i was about to go outside and, um, do you wanna come with?”

“what about me?” 

“it was… okay, i guess.”

“can i sit with you?”

“you call this a scary movie?”

“i have a million things to take care of, i don't have time to talk to you.”

“have you lost it completely?”

“but i'm starving.”

“this past year has been difficult for me.”

“i don't get it. she's making it into such a big deal.”

“no, this won't work. just take it off, please.” 

“i'm not like that.”

“fuck you. it's not a crush.”

“then i know that i can't count on you.”

“can't you come see me in [town] sometime?”

“it's just that we can't be seen together.” 

“he was still sleeping when i walked in.”

“doesn't bother me at all. i've seen it. absolutely. 100%.”

“[name] is really getting on my nerves! seriously.”

“i want us to be friends again.”

“i thought you and [name] were friends.”

“make sure you check your dms. okay?”

“you think it's fun to fuck with people like me?”

“never spend money you don't have. okay?”

“you think i'm stupid?”

“this sucks.” 

“how nice to see some smiles.”

“this isn't just about me, but my entire family.”

“i'm going to marry her.”

“are you threatening me?”

“don't you realize the shit storm that follows if i come out?” 

“i don't want you to talking to her.”

“remember what we saw during movie night? when they sat next to each other?”

“i love you.”

“i just want to hang out with you.”

"there's no point in having a back-up if you never use it."

“pretend i'm saying something clever.”

“how's [name]? he must be totally devastated.”

“what do you think they think we're talking about?”

“everything is fake. everything in the world is fake.”

“[name] is dead.”

“it just wasn't what i thought it would be like.”

“since when did you start liking him for real?” 

“what a fucking douchebag. god!”

“what the hell are you saying? chill out!”

[relaxxattack]

hi im asking u this bc u seem to be bee duo enthusiast so

ive been calling c! beeduos relationship platonic because i thought that was what their cc’s said, and i thought they had said that they were uncomfortable with ppl shipping the characters. But ive seen a lot of posts that say their relationship is canonically romantic? and i absolutely do not want to come across as homophobic by watering down a mlm relationship to just friends because that happens so much in media so.

what is the canon state of their relationship / ur opinions on the platonic thibg

dont worry abt answering if u dont want to!! i see a lot of differing opinions and i trust yours :)

aw it’s totally fine, im flattered you asked me about this!

let me put it simply: it’s a whole mess, lol.

first im going to talk about what’s happened fandom-wide that caused differing opinions, and then i’ll explain my own opinion/interpretation. :]

(this got really fucking long im so sorry)

ranboo and tubbo initially proclaimed the relationship was romantic, specifically in argument with the wiki editors who had set it as platonic by default. (you can see this in the vod where they decide they’re canonically married— it’s very funny. chat tells them the marriage is already on the wiki, they check, tubbo is jokingly offended that it says platonic and asks if he needs to up the romance).

tubbo also makes jokes about adultry, which sort of implies the relationship is not necessarily a platonic one.

(theres definetly more in that stream alone but it’s been a long time since i watched it so i don’t remember a lot of it.)

the wiki, because of this, suffers from going back and forth on platonic and romantic, seemingly unsure where the joke ends and the canon begins, or if its canonically a joke! a mess, as you can already tell.

this gets more complicated as the marriage bit goes on: outsiders, such as phil and scott, both at one point say “platonic marriage”, which then ranboo and tubbo agree with. however, when chat asks them if they’re platonic, they say the opposite. so there is a lot of confusion there.

there’s also the difficulty of being able to tell streamers and characters apart. ranboo and tubbo both don’t like being shipped irl, and that’s their boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. (they’re also minors, but tbh when they’re 18 in a year i will still be following their boundaries regardless of their legal age).

due to people not wanting to be accused of minor shipping, they started adding the platonic tone indicator to most of their drawings— basically a way of saying “no homo”. meanwhile, tubbo frequently on stream flirts with ranboo and makes quite a bit of nsfw comments towards him that are frankly hilarious.

this goes on for a while with nobody really sure what’s canon, but a lot of people assuming it’s probably platonic, until: the drama of the mods night. a few mods dmed all the wiki editors telling them ranboo wanted his canon character relationship officially set to platonic.

unfortunately for those mods; the very same day, a few hours later, ranboo on stream makes fun of puffy delivering him and tubbo “friendship flowers”. because, and i quote, “bruh. we’re literally married. this must be how the ancient greeks felt.”

in case you don’t know, the internet often jokes about how historians will call ancient greeks ‘very good friends’ when they are quite obviously gay. so in this context, ranboo is joking that people will call him and c!tubbo, who are married, “close friends”, when he doesn’t think they are.

basically, ranboo canonized romantic bee duo, the very same day the mods told everyone he’d wanted a platonic one.

chaos and drama immediately erupted everywhere. on tumblr, we were talking about how weird it was of his mods to do something like that without asking him first. we ALSO talked about how weird it was of them to assume that ranboo can’t make his own decisions, or assume teenagers cannot be in relationships without it being sexual. twitter did the same thing but in the opposite direction: called ranboo mods homophobic, or said they were mad ranboo felt pressured into making a romantic relationship canon ‘just so people could have mlm rep.’

i dont want to go into detail about the drama that happened that night because apparently official people follow me and i dont want to stir it up or have them come “clarify” things. im just saying what we talked about.

ranboo in typical ranboo fashion apologized quickly and seriously. he was deeply sorry for possibly offending anyone with how he’d portrayed his rp relationship with tubbo, and he also assured everyone the mod thing was just a miscommunication.

he said he would talk to tubbo and they’d decide once and for all whether it was platonic or romantic, and then announce so everyone would know.

it’s now been a few months and we've had no word from them on that development. we still have no clue.

-

now, here’s my opinion:

i want to take ranboos word for it that it was a miscommunication with his mods, but... we had it on good authority from people on the wiki team and people in the discord with the mods that (while it was happening) they were really going after the wiki admins, and also made some weird comments about it. that combined with the way ranboo seemingly had no clue (considering he canonized their romance that very same day).... it’s very. sus of the mods.

then there’s the canon we’ve got since then. although occasionally adults in the room have called it a “platonic marriage” and tubbo once (back when it first started) called it a “plankton tectonic” marriage, in roleplay it’s been... kind of not that. tubbo and ranboo make nsfw jokes about each other in character, and their characters also share a master bedroom and bed in the mansion. there's also the way c!tommy really thinks it’s a romance between them as well, and they agree with and play off that— for instance confirming that they “fell in love” when he asked, or ranboo confirming that they “make out on occasion”.

people will still put platonic on their art and posts, imo, because they’re worried about breaking ranboo and tubbo’s irl boundaries by looking like they ship them. or even just being accused of shipping real life minors. and that’s a valid fear to have.

the thing is though: c!bee duo are not cc!bee duo. they’re roleplay characters. cc!bee duo are not okay with being shipped, but they made their characters get canonically married, and call each other “husbands”. so it’s okay to write the word “husband” in your comic without adding “platonic” to it, i promise.

telling the ccs that their characters have to be platonic is... weird. it comes off as not only babying them, but also as saying teens can’t date without it being gross. which isn’t true.

(this is why seeing people overuse “platonic husband” so much bothers me. like, they ARE husbands. you can just say it. what are you trying to hide...?)

-

do i think they’re canonically romantic? ehh, its likely. it’s still okay to interpret them as platonic, because again, it’s hard to tell where jokes end and roleplay begins. like, maybe it’s jokes in the rp too, and c!bee duo are just friends. friends can and should be allowed to make jokes like that with each other! aro & ace marriages exist!

or, maybe it’s actually part of the rp, and they’re very much romantic. we don’t know!

some people say they could be a qpr (queerplatonic romance), which i could see. (a qpr is a relationship that fluctuates between, or can’t quite be sorted into, “romantic” and “platonic”. people in a qpr can do romantic things while having platonic feelings for each other). in my opinion this is a very valid interpretation as well!

-

CONCLUSION (sorry this got so long omfg):

are c!bee duo romantic?

its likely, but you can still interpret them however you like!

should i put /p on bee duo content?

ehhh? i find it annoying when it’s overused (as do others), but if you’re worried you can. its up to preference. putting it too much is weird though

should i put /p on things cc! bee duo do?

no. you’re not the one saying it so you can’t decide the tone tags for that. imagine you said something to your friend and a random stranger came up and was like “haha but that was /p right...?”

can i ship c!bee duo?

mmm. i’m not sure on this one. they are canonically married and very flirtatious, but the ccs don’t like being shipped and they’re close enough to being the ccs that actively shipping might be against boundaries.

can i treat c!bee duo as romantic?

yes. literally just don’t be weird about it. it’s not that hard! you can understand that two characters are husbands without making it weird

here’s the most important thing: boundaries. cc bee duo still haven’t told us what their preferences and canon is about this whole thing.

right now, i am assuming based on what they already show us they’re comfortable with, but! the second they give us any more info! all these opinions will change!

i am only going off what they do. i would never want to cross boundaries at all. i just wish they would make theirs a little more clear.

..... i hope that helped anon, i went way off the rails... i need to go to sleep.

[peachbear88]

She'd Still Be Here

A/N: So... I thought I'd hop on the angst train because... I need it. Angst AU, inspired by the lovely angst week created by two very cruel writers. *Cough* @wellsayhelloaagin @reminiscingtonight *cough*. In all seriousness, their fics are great so go read them if you want some juicy heart break.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Wanda x Natasha

Warning: Suicide, flashbacks, alcohol, insults, implied sex.

---------

You sit in the grass, leaning against the cool surface of the tombstone.

"You know, they say it's not healthy to spend so much time with the dead." A somber tone cuts the silence. You grit your teeth.

"Haven't you done enough?" The harsh tone is enough for them to stop.

---------

"Nat! Let me in!" You bang relentlessly on the door to no avail. "God damn it."

Rummaging through the fake potted plants, you let out a cry of triumph as you find the spare key hidden in the plastic pebbles.

The door swings open and you sprint inside, abandoning the key. Pitiful sniffles can be heard from outside her room. You gently push the door open, closing it behind you gently. Your heart cracks at the sight of the redhead curled into a ball under the covers, tissues scattered around the floor. A muffled sob escapes the small mound on the bed.

"Oh Natty," you sigh, slipping under the blanket next to her. She turns to you, her green eyes red and puffy, numerous dried tears coating her soft skin.

You wrap your arms around her, gently tugging her into a soft embrace.

"I'm not enough. S-She doesn't want me anymore." A broken hiccup escapes her lips. You frown.

She is Wanda Maximoff. Natasha's now ex-girlfriend.

"She's wrong. You're more than enough. She just doesn't know how wrong," you murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Her emerald green eyes flash under the covers, meeting yours.

"Really?" The words come out as a whisper, barely audible.

"Really."

The two of you sit in a suffocating silence, your arms wrapped firmly around her waist.

"It hurts." She mutters and your heart breaks at the vulnerability and pain seeping from her voice.

"I know it does," you gently caress her wavy red locks, pressing another gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"I can't forget her." You hum thoughtfully.

"Then let me help you forget her."

This time she doesn't stop you.

--------

The two of you become official soon after and you announce it to your friends, relishing in the pained look on Wanda's face, failing to notice a similar look on Natasha's face as well.

--------

3 months. That was all it took for it to all fall apart.

"I can't forget her." She whispers and you freeze.

It wasn't a huge surprise. You had noticed the secretive glances between them, the lingering touches, the whispered words. You just chose to ignore them.

"Then let me help you forget her," you whisper, no, plead, your voice cracking.

She doesn't look at you, stepping away from your open arms.

"I'm sorry." Her voice is heavy with guilt.

"Please."

"I'm sorry." The door closes behind her and you fall to your knees, the feeling of rejection too much to handle.

---------

Days turn to weeks, all blurred together as you dive into your job, working late hours to avoid the night terrors that awaited you at home.

Blind dates were arranged by Tony with guys to gays and everything in between.

But no one could compare to Natasha.

Eventually you were forcefully removed from the office, your boss demanding that you get home and rest. Tony picked you up, watching you worriedly as he drove you back home.

With tons of spare time on your hands and demons you didn't want to confront, you turned to the only thing you knew you could trust.

Alcohol.

You spent your days drinking and the nights clubbing, sometimes ending up in strange, unknown bedroom's next to another person or passed out in the back of your car, a stark contrast to the meek blind dates you started with.

--------

It all came crashing down one morning.

You wake with a pounding headache, your eyes heavy with sleep. Grabbing your phone, you flick it on, flinching at the bright light. Few messages from Tony, one from Thor, an Instagram notification and-

A voice message from Nat?

You jump up, tapping vigorously before pausing at the play button. You press it tentatively and Nat's voice comes flooding out from the device.

"H-Hi Y/N." You can tell by the sound of her voice she's been crying. "I don't know why I'm calling. This is stupid and you probably hate me." She takes a deep breath, her voice shaking. "W-Wanda broke up with me." You inhale sharply. "She never loved me. She just loved the chase, the idea of me. She told me I was useless, dumb, a burden."

"So I'm sorry." You can barely make out the faint sound of cars honking, people shouting in the the background. "I'm sorry for being a burden. I'm sorry for being a pain. I'm sorry for causing you pain." She lets out a shaky sigh.

"I'm sorry for breaking you." The cars in the background get louder. Someone in the background, yelling 'Get away from the railing!' You pull on your jacket frantically, still listening to the message.

"I'm sorry for what I'm about to do." And that's it. It ends there. You scramble out of your home, running towards the bridge where you first met Natasha. You were trying to end it all when she stopped you. Flashed you the brightest smile you'd ever seen and gave you a hug. And when she needed you, you were nowhere to be found. How ironic.

There's police tape all around the bridge when you get there, ambulances, police, news reports. You shove your way through the masses, ducking under the rope.

"Ma'am, you can't be here." An officer tries, gently coaxing you out. So you push him. You push him aside and rush towards the paramedics. They're all huddled around someone. A woman, with hair the color of a fox's, wavy and soft, green gentle eyes that sparkle. Your stomach drops and your knees give out.

"No." A single tear rolls down your cheek as the paramedics help you up, restraining you at the same time. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you Natty."

--------

"I'm sorry-"

"I don't want to hear 'I'm sorry!'" You roar, shoving her harshly. "Sorry doesn't do anything, sorry doesn't change anything, sorry, doesn't, bring, her, back!" You crumple. "Sorry was the last thing she ever said to me, you know?" Wanda sighs.

An awkward silence washes over the two of you and she tentatively reaches out.

"Don't."

"But-"

"If you hadn't said anything, she'd still be here!" You take a deep breath, your anger simmering down. "Just don't. Please, go." She doesn't move but you glare at her, causing her to recoil. "Go." You listen to the sound of her footsteps fading away before turning back to the tombstone.

The tombstone with the name Natasha Romanoff engraved on it.

---------

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ima-gi--na-tion @nicole-rayleigh-hot @trikruismybitch @olsensnpm @peabrain112

[creativeashproductions]

Streetdogs and Chest Compressions // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Reader reconnected with her estranged younger brother in the cruelest of ways as the 118 is called the scene of three young men suffering after eating streetdogs. Unfortunately, this is how Buck meets the future brother in law he had no clue even existed.

Warnings: Swearing, family problems (aka estranged), withholding personal information, angst, medical emergency, and fluff

Words: 4.7k

A/N: This fic is a crossover between Julie and the Phantoms and 9-1-1 in which Luke, Reggie and Alex eat the streetdogs in modern times. Don’t worry, someone still dies. Reader’s nickname is Spitfire 

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

It seemed Los Angeles was taking pity on the 118 with not even a single fire to be put out or medical needed. It was slow. Painfully slow, and you weren't even halfway through the twenty-four-hour shift. Hen and Chimney had taken the circular table for a card game, Bobby was reading a new cookbook. Eddie's Abuela had brought Christopher to the firehouse for his online schooling, the Diaz's wifi was malfunctioning. Buck and you had snuck off the bunk room to catch some sleep.

"Lazy movie day?" Buck asked with his arms tightly wound around your hips. Your form almost rested entirely on his front due to the narrow bunk.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." You replied to the content man underneath you. You could only hum as he shifted to kiss the top of your head, "Now shh. I want to slee-"

The bell sounded before you could even finish your sentence, "And what I didn't want to happen just had to spite me."

Buck and you hurried to quickly pull on your turnout gear before hopping into the respective seats you used. Eddie across from you, Buck driving with Bobby in the Captain seat. Hen and Chimney in the ambulance tailing you.

"We have three males in their late teens. Ate hotdogs in an alley before collapsing in the process." Bobby informed his team all the while he watched the road, "One is profusely puking, one's unconscious, and the last one is stable."

"Thinking it's food poisoning? That sudden?" Buck inquired with a swift glance from his position of driving. Bobby shrugged in response just as Buck eased the fire truck to a half near a crowded alley.

You were the first one out of the firetruck with your medical bag and halfway to the alley before the team could get out.

"Make some room!" You shouted among the heavily populated area, curious about the medical emergency.

Everything slowed down as you pushed between the last two people into something you called your worst nightmare. Three teenage individuals settled on their sides in unconscious states had been a fixture in your youth. Your eyes stayed pinned on the prone figure of your little brother.

It was like being underwater. Nothing could be heard, and it felt like you were in the process of drowning. It was the first time seeing Luke since you stormed out of your family home back when you were eighteen years old.

It was the same old unchanging story playing for months now with only the new addition of an audience. It was the middle of a blistering summer in Los Angeles, but it was the most heated in the Patterson household. You'd been at the movies with your best friends while your mother, Emily, was putting your laundry away.

Emily's hand had bumped your dresser by accident in her process of closing your socks drawer. The Patterson matriarch and her husband would never invade their children's rooms, but her keen eye had noticed the pamphlet; nothing serious like teen pregnancy but it was surprising.

Emily was holding a recruitment pamphlet for the Los Angeles Fire Department marked with your handwriting. Her heart dropped in sync with the front door slamming shut.

"I'm home!" You called out from the entrance. You didn't hear as your mother wandered into the open space. Her eyes flaring in both anger and fear; when a person is scared, they lash out.

That's what Emily did.

"What is this?"

Your eyes found the item in her hand that genuinely made your blood freeze in your veins. This was not how you'd wanted her to find out about your career decision.

"I'm applying. I graduated high school, and hopefully, I'll be train-"

"Like hell, you will! You're going to college and getting a real job! This won't take you anywhere Y/N Y/M/N Patterson!" Emily snapped just as Mitch came through the back door with your ten-year-old brother Luke.

"What's going on?" Mitch questioned as soon as he felt the tension between mother and daughter. Luke was quiet amongst the adults speaking.

"Your daughter isn't going to college. She's going to be a firefighter.

"Spitfire?"

A smooth hand startled you with the clap on your shoulder and Hen looking at you, "Are you okay?"

"I-" You shakily attempted to speak but alas had to be gently settled on the ground before you keeled over and hurt yourself. Your uniform, long sleeves this time, felt constricting as the guilt nearly swallowed you whole.

"Hey, Cap? I think I know why those three are like that." Buck called out from a sketchy grill by an even sketchier condiments table. The table being a rusted Oldsmobile manned by a greasy dude and his girl.

Even from a distance, you could smell the chemicals wafting off the unsanitary set up that would put a health inspector in a casket. 

"One's waking up!" Chimney spoke from the slump of pink and denim fabric. A curtain of blonde '90s style hair mussed on his head.

"Look, Y/N, I need you to dig deep to help these three boys. They have long lives ahead of them and need our A-game." Hen spoke with her hands, already checking one of the teens for broken bones.

Your eyes closed with a deep breath before you moved towards the boy on the other side. Eddie shifted to allow you room to check him over.

"Strong pulse. Breathing is good." You clinically informed your team, "Eddie can-"

"What happened?" The gruff voice spoke from behind you. As expected, Alex's voice had deepened in the years you'd gone without seeing Luke or his friends.

"You got this one?" You asked Eddie without waiting for a response; you were by Chim's side with a soft smile. Alex's eyes widened momentarily, "Hey Alex."

"Y/N?" Alex nearly gasped in shock. His shock seemed contagious as your entire team from the 118 caught it, "What's going on?"

"You ate some bad hotdogs and needed our help. We're gonna get you to the hospital. I'm worried you ingested battery acid." You spoke, understanding that Alex would prefer details instead of the lack thereof. Even from an early age, he'd been anxious.

"Oh. Are the guys okay?" Alex softly asked with his eye blinking as a strand of his blonde hair caught in his eyelashes. You slowly nodded in response without really knowing the status of Reggie and Luke.

"Eddie, Buck, can you get him loaded in the ambulance?" You called over your shoulder once you'd finished your thorough examination of Alex. The sound of boots on the hard ground appeared before they appeared.

Eddie and Buck swiftly loaded him on a gurney, but Alex's eyes widened, "Why are there two hot guys touching me? Oh my god. Do you see the cute guys too?"

You snickered as Alex's failed attempt at a stage whisper, "Yes. Alex."

"I've been blessed as a gay man." Alex breathed with a cute little grin plastered on his face, "Maybe I should eat more streetdogs-"

"NO!" Eddie, Buck, and you collectively shouted in response to Alex's delirious comment. He was loaded into the ambulance beside Reggie's gurney.

"I'm gonna jump in with the other guy in the ambulance." You quickly informed your boyfriend and Eddie. Each shared a look before Eddie slammed his fist on the back of this ambulance. It rolled away, and you jogged to the one Hen was driving.

Buck was there giving you a hand into the back of the ambulance with one of the other paramedics. You couldn't meet his eye when you were staring at the unconscious but thankfully alive body of your little brother. Your eyes couldn't be pulled away even as the ambulance started driving away.

Buck momentarily stared after the leaving vehicle until it turned a corner leaving him with his crew and questions. Eddie kept by Buck's side on the return to the firetruck in unusual silence. It wasn't often that Buck was quiet.

"What do you think that was about?" Eddie inquired as the truck pulled onto the street to follow the ambulances to the hospital, "Y/N knew the conscious one-"

"-and the one in the ambulance she jumped in. Kept staring at him like he'd disappear out of her sight." Buck supplied, staring out the window to the passing buildings. His blue eyes are unable to focus on the looks Bobby was sending.

Bobby attempted to bring Buck into a conversation, but each attempt was a failure. Neither Bobby nor Eddie knew how to make him feel better or why he was feeling off. 

Whereas you kept a hawk-eye on your brother's stats the entirety of the drive. The ambulance had only just entered the parking lot when his stats dropped. A long beep sounded, alerting you that Luke's heart had stopped.

"Goddamnit." You swore as you started leaning over Luke to start compressions. In order to continue compressions, you clambered into the gurney as the back doors opened.

"Hold compressions!" Eddie exclaimed once, seeing the situation, "No pulse."

You continued even as the gurney entered the hospital, and a doctor was there, "We got it."

You did as the doctor had subtly implied by climbing off the gurney, leaving the medical professionals to continue. You followed your brother's unconscious body to the surprise of the 118; you had never tried to follow the patient. It was more of Buck's issue.

"Y/N, our job ends here. You know that." Bobby spoke with Hen, Chimney, Eddie and Buck flanking his sides. Your e/c eyes shifted between the brown of your Captain's eyes and the blue of your boyfriend's eyes.

"It doesn't end when I just did compressions on my little brother." You informed him, "Write me up. Suspend me if you want, but I need to be in there."

Bobby's eyes softened, "Your shift is almost over. Just come in early on your next shift; you can make breakfast."

"Thanks, Bobby." You softly informed the man who'd become both your boss and a pseudo father. He only nodded in response with your friends beside him with different expressions, "I should get in there."

Without waiting for another response, you'd already entered the ER through the ambulance bay sliding doors. You went straight to the nursing desk with sure steps.

"Hi, I was in the ambulance that brought in a young male teenager. Shaggy brunette hair, caucasian. He was in a separate ambulance from his two friends." You spoke once the head nurse had turned his attention to you, "He was getting compressions on his way in. Name Luke Patterson."

"Are you asking as a paramedic?" Jude questioned with his fingers tapping the keys of the computer. 

"No. He's my brother." You sighed, bringing the sympathetic brown eyes of Jude to look at you. The look changed a degree when he read the sentences on the screen.

"Are you aware your brother ran away from home? There's a social worker on her way."

Your jaw dropped in surprise, "Ran away? He ran away?!"

Jude flinched at the screech of words you accidentally released to both your and Jude's horror in the quiet ER. Jude turned the screen to show a digital missing person's poster with your brother's face on it.

"He's awake." Jude supplied, having deciphered and guessed correctly you'd gone a while without seeing your brother, "I'm off shift now, but I can bring you to him. I'll let the social worker know."

The nerves grew each step closer to the room your brother was stationed in for the time being with Reggie for comfort in the neighbouring bed. Part of you wished Luke would be asleep to avoid the confrontation about to happen. Only Luke's hazel eyes turned to see him in his pause of puking.

"Hey." You softly breathed into the quiet room. Luke's breath caught in his throat, "You ran away?"

"Guess we're more alike than we thought. We both run when it gets tough." Luke's words were all snark and poison to your heart. His hazel eyes glaring into your own eyes with anger that covered up the pain, "Hope this is just a delirious episode."

Your eyes squeezed closer, "Luke-"

"What? Are you gonna apologize for abandoning me? The only reason you're reaching out is that you happened to be the medic!"

You could physically feel your heart clench, "No. I tried reaching out. Mom and dad don't answer the phone. You didn't have a phone, and like hell, they'd give me the number either. The letters and-"

"Excuse me? Ms. Patterson." Both Luke and your attention shifted the entrance. A well put together woman stood with a clipboard, "I'm Beth. A social worker and I'm afraid you aren't allowed to speak with Luke alone."

"I'm his sister."

"Barely." Luke hissed, avoiding looking at you by looking over at Reggie, "I'd like to be alone."

"I can respect that. Here's my number if you need anything, Luke. Seriously, night or day, I'll answer. I know how it was living in that house, but you have someone to run to. Me." You firmly told the stubborn teenager, "Listen to Beth. You can't live on the streets Luke, it's not fair to you or anyone else. I'll ask my friend to keep an eye on you."

Had you not noticed Luke's jaw clenching, you'd have thought he hadn't heard you, "Whatever."

"Beth, have Reggie or Alex's parents come yet?"

Beth nodded, "I'm not supposed to reveal that, but yes Mr and Mrs Peters are talking to the doctor. Alex was moved into a room. They'll all make a full recovery."

You cast one last look at your little brother curled up in the hospital bed, a stark similarity to the night you returned home, only for your things.

It wasn't an accident you chose to return to your childhood home on Thursday night with the schedule on the fridge memorized. Every second Thursday, your mom attended the PTA meetings for Luke's school. Your father would be home but most likely asleep in his recliner, but if he was awake, it wouldn't be bad.

Your father was more lenient than your mother, even if he shared the same mentality.

"I was wondering when you'd come back," Mitch spoke from his recliner with the side table holding his drink. A glass of your mom's homemade lemonade, "Your mom-"

"I'm not staying." You firmly spoke on your way to the hallways where the bedrooms were positioned. You could hear the soft steps of your father's well-worn slippers.

"What?"

"Look, Dad, you can't leave the house, but I can. I'm not staying in this place with her stifling ideas. This is my life. Just because she decided to be a stay at home, mom doesn't mean she gets to make my decisions and live through me." You informed the man while shoving clothing, items, toiletries, among other things, in the suitcase.

"Y/N, firstly, that is not how to speak about your mother. She sacrificed to take care of this family. Luke looks up at you, don't give him a bad impression of our family."

"No."

"If you walk out that door without apologizing, then you are not welcome back until you do so." Mitch's voice came out in that fatherly authoritarian tone. The no-nonsense look in his eye nailing the coffin in your decision.

"I'm not apologizing for choosing a career of helping other people. Of being a step for someone to live and not die. So what if it's not a teacher, a lawyer or some other bullshit 'acceptable' career. I love you, dad. I love mom too and Luke. But I'm not subjecting myself to a desk job with no drive in it."

"Where will you stay?"

"I have a place. I'll call to talk with Luke. I won't 'poison' his mind with ill thoughts of mom. But I won't lie to him either."

Mitch was stock still as you glanced into the bedroom next to your childhood bedroom. Luke's room was still decorated with spaceships and stuffed animals. Your eyes watched the rising of Luke's back as he breathed from his curled up position.

You couldn't help but walk to kneel at his side. Your hand brushed his soft hair from his forehead. You drank in the look of pure content and innocence on his sleeping face.

"Y/N?" Luke mumbled with his bleary eyes blinking, "You're home."

"I have to head out. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay," Luke spoke mere seconds before his breathing evened out once more.

That was the last night you'd been in the home. Luke sat next to the landline phone the next night, waiting for a call that never came. Your parents had unhooked the line. Luke sat on a stool beside it for weeks before his hopes soured.

If only you'd known leaving your parents would mean souring your relationship with your brother. Than maybe you would have reached out for his benefit and your self-proclaiming selfishness

"Thought you'd need a ride," Buck spoke from his position leaning against the wall still in his uniform. There was definitely a new tension in the air between you and him, "We'll grab our things from the house than go home."

"Thank you." You softly spoke to Buck. The weight of keeping your family secret dragged your shoulders down. You couldn't help but wonder if this was gonna cause a fracture in your relationship.

"No matter what. I'll always be here." Buck told you with his arms coming to wrap around your shoulders. He led you through the ER, you'd waved at the shocked parents of both Alex and Reggie, "Who-"

"Luke's friends' parents."

"Okay, so your family lives just outside of the city in Los Felix?"

"Feliz. They live in Los Feliz, from what I know. I haven't been back since I was eighteen." You chuckled, "I want to stress that my parents are abusive or neglectful. Not even bad, but my mom had this idea of what my life should be like."

Buck hummed with his right arm around your waist, and his left casually balanced on his outstretched leg. A bottle of beer loosely gripped in his left hand.

"How old is Luke?"

"He'll be eighteen in August. When I left, he was ten." You mused, leaning into Buck's side, "I think that's why Maddie and I get along so well. We're both big sisters with a significant age gap to our brother."

Buck hummed, "Why did you keep it from me?"

"It hurt. It still hurts just thinking about it. They unhooked the landline the night after I went back for my things." You recalled the agony at having an olive branch snapped off, "I promised to call Luke, and I wasn't able to; they'd disconnected the landline. Imagining the look of hurt on Luke's face was enough to keep me from physically reaching out."

"I wish you had trusted me." Buck finally admitted with the last swig of his beer in the middle of his words, "We're engaged. We're looking at houses, but you never told me about your parents. About your brother. Above your life before the 118."

"Buck. I trust you with my life." You urgently informed the firefighter. Your hands cupped his cheeks to ensure his eyes focused on yours. You wanted him to see the truth, "You are the most important piece of my life. You and the 118 made me feel at home from the moment I joined. Buck, you are my family."

That look courtesy of his parents' actions faded ever so slightly from his eyes, "You guys are my family too."

"I'd like you to meet my little brother when we can reconcile." You announced into the cool summer night. Your drink had been long gone in the process of working through seeing your brother again, "I never thought I'd see him as a patient I'd have to help. Seeing him pale and unconscious nearly destroyed me."

"But he made it."

"He texted me 'didn't die' with the rock 'n roll hand emoji." You deadpanned, recalling the emotional two days for news. You were kinda shocked that Luke had even reached out at all.

Buck couldn't have successfully hidden his laugh if you weren't currently leaning against his body.

"So Albert found an apartment. He won't be moving with us." Buck changed the subject with the same ease he'd always held at knowing you. This was just another one of the moments you were thankful for having him by your side.

"So now there's not a reason to search for a bigger house?" You questioned with a crease between your eyebrows.

In the last two years, several significant changes have been impacting all areas of your life, especially the personal aspect. Buck had proposed during a picnic hike about a year ago with the mutual agreement for a long engagement; his parents didn't believe it was for anything other than pregnancy. Additionally, working in the same firehouse made planning difficult and then your apartment lease bringing the conversation of houses.

Originally Albert would rent part of the home out, so it needed at least three bedrooms.

"I mean, we don't have to not look. We've talked about children and settling down." Buck softly offered with a hesitant smile on his face, "I wanted to talk to you about it, but do you think we could talk about a possible time to start trying-"

"Y/N?"

The two adults went on high alert as Luke wandered into the gated garden your apartment building had. Buck's arm slid off your body as soon as you climbed to your feet at the sight of Luke.

"Luke?" You softly gasped, revelling in the sight of your little brother. Physically he looked fine with the addition of bloodshot eyes, "What's wrong?"

"I-I didn't have anywhere else to go." Luke choked out, sliding the battered old backpack off his shoulder onto the duffle at his feet. Luke's hazel eyes glimmering in the setting sun, "I got into a fight with mom and dad."

"Please tell me you didn't run away again." You heavily sighed in your movement to grab his backpack from the ground. Buck was quick to grab the duffle bag from the ground.

"I'll get the air mattress. Let Albert know not to bring his date home." Buck murmured in your ear low enough only you could hear, "I'll heat up the leftover Chinese."

The Patterson siblings watched as Buck entered the opening to the back of the building's secured backyard. Luke's backpack slung over his shoulder, and the duffle in his right hand.

"How did you find where I live?" You asked the emotionally seventeen-year-old with those puppy dog eyes. The eyes with the colour you wished you had inherited instead of your e/c.

"I saw 118 on the inside of the ambulance. I found the firehouse, and after procuring 'evidence', one of the paramedics told me where to find you." Luke shrugged, "I would have gone to Bobby's garage we use as a studio, but...he bailed on us. Reggie tries to get away from his place, and Alex's are assholes."

"The Peters are still married?" You scoffed, recalling the tense moments between little Reggie's parents. A cloud followed the couple around everywhere they went together, and Reggie was always caught in the middle.

"If-if this overstepping, I can find another place-" Luke began to respond on the walk down the inside hall to your apartment door.

"And make my struggle with the cursed object redundant?" Buck joked from the kitchen with a plate filled with warmed up food. Maybe the universe had a plan when Buck accidently over-ordered food from the restaurant.

"Luke, just stay here. You can have something to eat and rest up. But we need to talk about this. Running away is never a solution to your problems." Your stern voice reminded you of your mother when you broke the rules, "You need to let mom and dad know you're crashing at my place. They don't know my address."

"We got your back." Buck cemented to the quiet teenage boy that he saw a lot of himself in. A little kid living in the shadow left by an older sibling, only Luke's still lived.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with a shake of your head, "I'm sorry. Buck, this is my little brother Luke. Luke, this is Evan, my fiance."

Luke's eyes widened at the title, "Hi."

"Everyone calls me Buck."

Buck, Luke, and you shared stories of your lives in the times you'd gone without each other while Luke ate. By the time he shovelled the last bite of chow mein in his mouth, you'd caught up enough for the time being. He used the shower and settled into the air mattress sheets on the floor a fair distance from the couch Albert slept on.

"So I guess we'll be finding that house anyway?" Buck inquired under the stream of water from the showerhead. His hands massaging the shampoo into your scalp, the action intimate without a sexual motive behind it.

"How-"

"I could see it in your eye. We can see if your parents would be willing to meet up to talk about Luke. Maybe have him stay with us temporarily, give them space without your parents not knowing where he is." Buck murmured as he caressed your sides with his calloused hands. His forehead leaning down on your own forehead.

"I haven't been home in years. I'm not sure how they'd take us stepping on their toes."

"Then we tell them how it is. Their decision drove their youngest child away, and that almost killed him. He's almost eighteen, and then he can make his own legal decisions. Be the person we both wish had been there when we were his age."

And that's what you did. Buck and you met up with your parents at your childhood home to your horror and Buck's delight. He'd never gotten to see pictures of a younger you, but Maddie had brought his baby pictures for you to see the first time you met her. While your mom had fixed some of her lemonade Buck had toured the photos hanging on the wall.

The conversation itself was tense and combative, but in the end, your parents agreed that they'd prefer Luke to be safe than missing. Life was looking up. 

"Hey," Buck murmured with his arms wrapped around your midsection. His blonde scruff scratching your cheek as he slumped over you, "Is that-?"

"Evie's babysitter?" You supplied with a raised eyebrow towards your now husband's laser focus on your brother.

After your relationship with your parents started healing, you had walked down the aisle in white to Buck. You had settled into the dream house with Luke taking one of the bedrooms. The other bedroom put to use when you got pregnant with Evelyn, Evie for short, to your shared joy.

"He likes her." Buck teased, watching the interaction between the two young adults on the main floor of the 118 fire house.

Eight-month-old Evie chewed on a rattle in the arms of her careful hold of her babysitter, but Evie's eyes watched her uncle. Luke, however, was focused on the beautiful and smart girl he knew from high school; they knew of each other but never acknowledged each other. Luke had already graduated when they first came into each other's worlds. Julie threw herself into babysitting to distract herself from both music and her mother's death.

"She's why the band doesn't practice in our garage?" 

"It's a whole thing." You mused with a shake of your hand, "She lost her mom and music. By complete chance, he walked in on her, singing a song to settle Evie. One thing led to another, and Luke formed Julie and the Phantoms with her, Reggie and Alex."

"They formed a band?" Buck beamed, hearing the recent news, "I thought they'd never find their way back to it."

Around the time of your wedding, Bobby had a family emergency involving his uncle Trevor and his cousin Carrie. You'd gone back to work shortly only to be called to the scene of a fatal accident, the victim being Bobby Wilson.

"Julie is Luke's ideal girl. Good with kids, kind, smart, shy, and shares the same passion for music. They bring out the best in each other. They brought music back to each other." You informed your husband with that lovesick grin that was resigned solely for his impulsive ass.

"Kinda like us?"

"Yeah. Like us."

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[koomiyah]

Jungkook said he went to Jm room because it was the closest room. He didn't say "I wanted to spend time with Jimin because he is funny or I like to stay with him". So I don't think you should be happy for what he said. Lmao. Jungkook stopped the shippers even if Jimin was trying to feed them. If Jungkook was happy with Jimin, he could say it. But he was too busy flirting with Tae even if Jimin was there...(a third wheel as always). And the airport thing? Jungkook waited because staff needed his documents. Then he run away, and Jimin was behind trying to stay with him. Again, it's always Jimin. Maybe he is in love or maybe he just wants attention, the point is that Jungkook doesn't care and he doesn't want to be shipped with him. He made this clear with the taekook selca that he posted later. Jungkook is smart. He sent a message that you pretend to not see.

Ok mind me if I laugh. He is a grown ass adult man. He knows what he wants and where he wants to be. Don't you know that bts usually have their rooms booked on the same floor? Is it really that hard to go to his "boyfriend's" room for non less than 2 minutes?

Why would he go to his bf's soulmates room at night if he possibly don't want to spend time with him? Why was he checking on him 3 times a day when they were in LA? Why did Taehyung know where jimin's room is but didn't know which one is jungkook's? Why was taehyung eating alone in his hotel room instead of eating with his lover? Jungkook was busy eating with his bf's best friend at that time. Why taehyung though jimin's room owns jungkook because he opened the door for him and greeted him? Why they both invited tae to go to the walks with them?

I'm sorry but if i was in relationship with a person who would rather go to the 'closest' room instead of mine at night and do whatever they both do at night and have been doing since forever, I would rather break up with them.

Also, what is wrong with posting a selca with his buddy? It's great to see they are getting along.

For this whole "Jungkook doesn't want to be shipped with Jimin" thing, let me remind you of these:

If my best friend and my soulmate sucked a hickey on my bf's neck after drinking alone at night, I would break up with them... again.

From what you're implying to me now, it seems like Jungkook is a shitty boyfriend to tae. This about it.

1. Dedicating a whole gcf for Jimin, using gay love song in the background

2. Giving eo hickeys

3. Going out together, riding in the same car together, staying at same rooms in hotels

4. Ear sucking

5. Working out together, taking walks together, eating together, spending nights together in LA

6. "You are me, I am you" thing

7. Seeing eo parents and having that great bond with them for Jimin to use informal speech while speaking to JK's mom, Jimins father having jikook photos in his Cafe and more

8. Spending national holidays together and posting on Twitter at 4 am

9. Jimin being with Jungkook the whole night of his birthday 🎂 while taehyung wasn't with him

10. Jimin flying all the way back from Paris to Korea to just see Jungkook for 2 hours before leaving to Hawaii

11. Jimin being the only member to receive birthday gifts from Jk

12. Jungkook climbing the mountain to get JM the block of snow because he knows jimin loves it

13. Matching tattoos and 'JM' on his ring finger. He added the 'J' later than he did his ARMY tattoo.

14. Wearing matching clothes on valentines day

15. Spending time with Jimin's friends in London, remembering when JM said he never shares his friends with anyone

16. Sharing clothes many times

17. Jimin wearing Jk's sweater to sleep that he wore all day (and it was probably sweaty)

18. Jimin knowing things about Jk that no one else in the band seems to know

19. Jk saying Jimin is sexy multiple times and praising him

20. The most enjoyable thing in 2020 for JM was waking up and seeing Jungkook's face

21. Jk sleeping in Jm's bed

22. Jk having a little space in Jm's and Jhope's closet, full of his belongings, his laptop and even a mattress

And many, many more. I can continue for a long time anon. That's not how people who hate each other or don't want to spend time with each other act. If you want to spend time with somebody, you do everything you can to be close to them. So you're saying that Jungkook is so lazy to go to his boyfriends room. Sounds reasonable.

Use your brain for once, anon.

[altairattorney]

[OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH] Last Wish Granted

“A bath, I say!” he exclaims. “Are you deaf? I have been holed up in here too long, and I am starting to smell! What kind of man can stink like this and go about his day like nothing?”

Yes I have the gay pirate brainrot too, ofc. Wrote this beast in my sleep (no, not a joke; my brain really does that and quite often) and decided to actually write it to make my gay pirate brainrot friends happy. The rituals are intricate and everyone on that ship is gay and stupid and I love all of them. No NSFW anywhere but sexytimes are just implied; a lot of sweetness and gay happiness. [AO3 link]

Somewhere in the middle of the morning, Stede awakens from his third (fourth?) nap of the day.

It ends similarly to all the others: with the pungent smell of the rags he calls his bed, and drool over a frilly sleeve he has not been allowed to change in God knows how long. He dries his mouth against the fabric, in search of an inkling of comfort; but the scruffy ends of his beard pass right through it, only feeding his irritation further.

As usual, the sun is far too warm and gentle for his liking. Foggy eyes watch its rays touch his prison like a considerate caress. The rough edges where they tore up the walls – where a room built in his ship for his crew was disfigured into an ugly cell – seem to change shape as well, glistening bright like wooden crystals.

Much of the ship has suffered the same fate. Stede vaguely remembers finding it irritating, somewhere amidst the heartbreak and the shock of his first night aboard.

Not that it matters now, he thinks, coiling back onto himself like a defenseless animal. Thank goodness he does not remember much of that.

It was his choice – it still is. Now that his life is over, forgetfulness means survival. Since the first moment he found himself thrown on the ground of his cell, Stede has let all his hours and meals blur together into one endless state of half-consciousness, with the promise to make himself sleep as long he can throughout the walk of the celestial bodies.

If only he could also control what he dreams about.

The image is still only a glimpse, just like what he saw that day. It does not scare him nor hurt him any less. Deep within the nights on the ocean, when his sleeping throat betrays him and he whimpers despite himself, that fragment of a memory stirs and grows larger, seeping through the cracks of his mind until no space is left for anything else.

His nightmare is the face of a monster. He saw it but for a split second, and yet it comes back whole – in grotesque detail his agony reinvents each time, etching it mercilessly all over the face of his love. The ensemble is crowned by a pair of beastly eyes, inscrutable and black, open on the depths of a murderous ocean.

It scares him, that is certain. But every time, unbeknownst to him, his breath quickens and his foolish heart races. He reaches for that ghost of a man with untold hunger – fingers all over his face, still almost as soft as he remembers – he digs and scrapes with his thumbs, at the layers of black and salt and tears.

It never comes off. He can only wake up, and suffocate his crying in the same sleeve.

But not now, Stede decides. Way too much of the day is left to go through. For what it’s worth, if he has any dignity left at all, he will refrain from morning breakdowns like alcohol.

He numbs himself into half-sleep. There he plans to stay as long as he is allowed.

He is brought back by nervous footsteps.

*

“Well?”

Stede does not understand why Izzy Hands of all people is the one standing out of his cell, but he can guess. From what little he has grasped during his prison stay, the task falls to whoever pissed off the great Blackbeard most on any given day.

Despite what he believes, Izzy was never hard to read. But something in his demeanor – the scalding tone of his voice, the fury he conceals as bravado in his eyes – tells Stede something more is going on.

For the briefest moment, he wonders if their disagreement had anything to do with him at all. He represses a pang of terror, and swiftly suffocates the smallest spark of hope.

Even so, it isn’t like he cares. He decided long ago he would never deign Izzy with a single response, and despite it all – despite the pain – he wants everyone to know Stede Bonnet has become a man of his word. He remains silent, and absorbs every crumb of delight he can from staring at him without a moment’s rest.

Whatever his gaze is doing, it seems to be working. From his restless pacing around the corridor to the way his mustache quivers with rage, Izzy radiates distress. Stede loves every second of it.

“You think you are so smart,” the first mate comments. Even under so much pressure, his unctuous voice somehow still holds itself together. “I wonder what I could do to change your mind…”

For a moment, Stede has to blink to protect himself from the sight of his dagger.  It becomes blinding in the light, and lets out a horrific cry when Izzy scratches it against the metal bars. Neither needs to speak to clarify to each other what that sound promises – it is torture, skinning, certain death singing to him.

Yet, even at the height of his discomfort, Stede cannot help but notice that nobody has ever come close to harming him. And if there is anything he knows for sure in his life, at this very moment, it is how badly Izzy wants to do just that.

Does he want to... take care of me himself? his heart wonders with a start. He and no one else?

A thrill of fear and excitement runs through his spine at the thought. As much as he repeats to himself he is no longer supposed to care, Stede must let it happen this time. If his guess is right, few facts are left on his horizon – he is as good as dead, can afford no regrets, and will see the one he loves most in the world before he passes.

It is maybe that thought to break down his fierce resistance, and melt his nerves into a swarm of giggles. His throat bubbles up with hilarity like the chatter of a spring, full of a hollow joy – the delight of a man whose fate has already been chosen, and has nothing to lose but the present moment.

He does not know how long his voice keeps flowing, nor why the sparkle of little tears keeps dropping at the corner of his eyes; but he has never enjoyed any kind of peace for long before, and an abrupt end to his reverie has to come again, inevitably.

“That’s enough!”

Stede cannot repress an unceremonious squeal when the dagger plants itself into the floor, a breath away from his toenails. He concedes that much to Izzy – the man knows how to be fearsome. But he also enjoys his rage, and isn’t that the point, now that he is as good as gone? A moment of fun?

“You don’t even know who you are laughing at,” Izzy articulates, both terrifying and pathetic in his snake-like attitude. “You are nothing. If it weren’t for… damn.”

Stede perks up at his hesitation. To Izzy, the creature in the cell may very well be a dog who was just given the promise of food, or heard his distant master’s name. Disgusting, Stede can read in his face.

“Hmm?”

He is acutely aware of how much his only utterances sounded like squeals. But he has an oath of silence to maintain, and carries on – half-scared, half-intrigued by the prospect of more information.

Izzy slipped up. They are both aware of it. The first mate, a finely trained actor by all means, is able to compose himself and put up his sturdy mask of smugness again.

“What are you staring like that for?” he asks mockingly, shaking his head like he would at a child or a beast. “Is there anything Your Majesty wants from me?”

Stede ponders his words with care. If the end is inevitable as he thinks, he might as well get all the enjoyment he can out of this. For the first time in at least weeks, he shoots a dignified glance at the lacy wrists of his shirt, and ruffles them in the tidiest manner he can.

“I would much appreciate taking a bath.”

“Excuse me?”

It takes all of Stede’s willpower not to finally laugh again, amused as he is at Izzy’s furious bewilderment. However, the act has to continue. The man is of no use to him there – the only way he can enjoy his company is by seeing him frustrated or not seeing him at all.

He unearths his aristocratic ways from the forgotten areas of his mind. He knows they offer him his best shot at sounding as indignant as he wants to.

“A bath, I say!” he exclaims. “Are you deaf? I have been holed up in here too long, and I am starting to smell! What kind of man can stink like this and go about his day like nothing?”

With Izzy still shocked into inaction, he lets his frown morph into a malicious smile.

“Oh… I see. Men like you.”

It takes Izzy several seconds, plus a few instinctive moves towards the sheath, to realize his dagger is already out of reach within the cell. As Stede wonders whether he would have been able to resist the temptation this time, his amusement turns a little more somber.

Izzy’s next words change everything.

“He will hear all about this,” he growls. “He is going to hear it right now. You are dead.”

Stede hears him walk away like a storm, his footsteps heavy and frantic. Somehow, his heartbeat manages to match them in speed. His blood pulses throughout his whole body, a rolling drum, bearer of ecstasy and ultimate pain at once.

Maybe he will see him. Maybe, just this once, he will get the one thing he wants before he can die in peace.

And if he is fast enough – faster than Izzy’s bullets, he supposes – he will reach out his hands, as if in a dream…

“Um.”

When Stede realizes what he has been fantasizing about the whole time he was alone, his embarrassment grows to be noticeable. Even so, nothing could match that on Izzy’s face. Composed and professional as he tries to be, he finds it difficult to hide that the news he is bearing are quite strange – nothing close to the immediate bloodshed he was craving, at the very least.

“The Captain says you can have your damn bath,” he spits out. “Last wish granted.”

Stede can barely hear the loud click of the lock, or notice how he struggles to stand on his legs at first. His whole body feels as if it were made of light and clouds – lifted by elation and terror in equal measure, already sailing for its final destination in the heavens.

Heaven or hell, may his love join him there one day. That is his true last wish.

Out of nowhere, he feels a heavy push towards the staircase, and the back of his shirt blocked in a steady grasp.

“Go there now, but mind you,” Izzy barks. “You will be watched.”

*

In spite of all his anticipation, Stede cannot move.

Nothing sounds more pleasant than going to meet his maker clean, bloodstains and wounds aside. He sees no reason to wait any longer for that morsel of relief; he deeply needs to feel his limbs enveloped in soothing water, almost like the kind ocean loved to do when he lay on its shores.

And yet, something feels wrong. A sound nails his feet to the floorboards just outside his bathroom. His ears keep catching gentle splashes coming from the other side of the door – one his trained ear can now distinguish from the rolling waves. So much quieter, and yet so much more dreadful. Someone is in there.

It may be an ambush, his heightened survival instinct yelps from within. He realizes making complete sense of his imminent demise will still take some time.

The chatter of warm bath waters continues from the inside. It is somehow too delicate, almost sweet to his ears, with all the allure and danger of a siren’s song. He decides to collect his courage and add the final attempt to a row of polite, if awkward, gentlemanly knocks.

“Is anyone in there?” he calls, tremulous. “Hello?”

No other response but the water returns to his ears. Stede braces himself. It may take a minute, or twenty, for him to find his resolve; but he knows too well what fate he is headed to. Since his path cannot be changed, he might as well enjoy the last hour of solace he will know.

For a few moments, as the door cracks open and his knuckles turn white around the handle, his apprehension leads him to focus on the hidden corners of the room. It isn’t until he is relieved, and the door cautiously shut and locked, that it crosses his mind to focus on the tub.

Hiding in plain sight, his brain struggles to formulate, before all thought crumbles to the floor and crashes in stunned silence.

Ed is in there. No, it is not one of his dreams or memories, Ed is in there. Alone and naked and staring. Silvery droplets glisten all over the strands of the beard he seems to be trying to regrow in full. The shimmer of water coats patches of his beautiful skin, content to rest a moment longer wherever a scar or a vein left a mark. He lingers against the metal like a sculpture, vibrant model to pale marble imitations, with every shape and line drawn by his body converging to the center of it all – his powerful hand, wrapped around the hilt of a knife.

By the time he can formulate a thought again, Stede realizes his concept of time is far gone. The moments refuse to pass, caught in a reverie stronger than drugs; Ed’s movements happen faster than he can realize, faster than he can order his limbs to fully defend himself. He struggles hard not to focus on the body in front of him instead. As the shine blazes towards his throat, the realization it is all over struggles to come as quickly.

He breathes in and out several times. Things are too silent, too still for what expects him. For a while, his eyes are shut, and nothing hurts nor makes sense.

Though his ears feel like they are full of cotton, Stede begins to notice the breathing he is listening to is not just his own. He feels another quiver in the air, ragged and uneven, but almost slowing down to match the rise and fall of his rib-cage. He finds it in himself to look again, to see where he ended up.

Against all he expected, his face is full of Ed.

The knife ended nowhere near the place he thought he would. He sees its silhouette somewhere near his left side, higher than his neck, farther than his cheeks. The handle is no more than a glimpse – he cannot resist half a second before turning his gaze ahead. Every nerve in his system shuts down, giving way to nothing but adrenaline and ecstasy.

He is far too vulnerable, far too open to danger, far too close to his lips and his face and the draw of his warm body. If he really is to die, Stede thinks, he cannot wait an instant longer.

He flies to meet Ed’s lips again, eager beyond words to talk to him, to make him understand, to kiss the totality of his desperation into him. He must pour so much love in such fleeting, brief time he has to live. No matter how much you hate me, his tongue would speak if such fiery embraces had words, I love you, I will love you forever, I will die at your side in any way I must.

He is far too lost to feel more than sparks all over his limbs when other hands tug at his clothes, ridding him of the heat and the dirt and the foul smell. Everywhere barriers fall, bring down defenses. His contact with soft patches of skin, avid and fervent and in so much need, slowly gives him the raw power to open his eyes wide and hold Ed’s face.

He sees fire burn in his eyes. The fire he loves. The dark pits of his pupils, now stretched out wide for him to read, are not quite as glacial as the monstrous chasms he remembers – they find their bonfire again moment by moment, melting the icebergs of his love in warm rivulets through his long-cracked black make-up.

“I-I couldn’t,” Ed finally mutters. “You- I just couldn’t”.

He lowers his head in pain with such force he breaks free of his loving grasp, turning to take a few disheartened steps away. Distracted by the chill his absence left, Stede slowly puts him into focus. He follows the wet footprints on the floor, then the geometry of his slender legs; he envelops his chest and shoulders with his gaze, to find them curved under a weight too merciless to bear. He knows what his posture means – he has seen it so many times before.

Ed stands on his own, clothed in sunlight, like a man who has lost himself completely.

With the noise of deep instinct washed out of his blood, Stede is allowed to choose with renewed clarity. He walks forward with peace, mellow and certain, to wrap his arms around Ed in the most understanding embrace he can muster.

“I know,” he murmurs against the skin of his neck. “It’s alright now. I am not going anywhere.”

The way Ed’s arm grasp his to keep him close feels like a call for help, a plea from a soul who has known nothing but loneliness. To Stede, however, he is more resplendent than the sky just outside. All of them, he thinks with contempt, were both right and wrong at once. He is the shell of a fearsome captain – yet a man reborn in love, basking in the warmth of his own beauty.

That is not what he thinks about himself. Whether his fault or not, Stede knows that has to change.

Though reluctant to move at all, he gently turns Ed around to face him, and lifts his chin with the same care he always reserved for any timid flower buds in his own vast garden – shy to bloom, yet ready in their own time.

His gaze, if wounded and afraid of further pain, is molten in the softness he knows so well. The contrast to the crude markings painted on his cheeks is stunning. In the space of a few loving glances, Stede notices the horrible story they tell; the streaks of black look painted one over the other, their edges washed away by his eyes time and time again. Who knows how long it would have taken still, he struggles to think, for that story to be given up on and end forever.

When he is able to speak again, Ed’s voice is so frail Stede thinks he may break in his arms.

“Why?”

There is nothing else. Nothing else is needed for them both to be run through by grief, in all the places that hurt most. Still, the choice Stede made is already set in stone. He is not here to revel in their pain; he is here to heal wounds, close incomplete chapters, do whatever it takes to finally open the one they always wanted to write.

“A lot went wrong,” he answers, not knowing how to sum up so much change in the few words Ed desperately needs. “There is much that I need to explain. I am so sorry.”

“Me too,” Ed sobs against his shoulder.

Stede pauses thoughtfully, putting his words together as he runs his fingers through Ed’s hair. It is filthy and tangled like it never used to be.

“I know things did not go as we planned,” he continues, doing all he can to prevent his voice from cracking. “That was not what you wanted to happen. I did not want that to happen. But in the end… above all, I had to make things right. With my family and myself first of all. And I did not come back to harm you, or to-”

His jaw clenches. The memory of that encounter still hurts as its core – the events and the insults both. Still, now that he knows the truth, he can move forward.

“I did not come to ruin you or make you any less of a person. I came back to make things right with you, too. Because…”

Ed turns his head to look at him. For a moment, a rosy tinge still falls over his cheeks. He feels the ancestral drive to conceal his emotions and run – even more so in front of his fearsome mentor, his teacher, his friend.

He brushes it off with a smile, not minding the few tears that fall from his own eyes. Neither of them are that person anymore. He is Stede and this is Ed, his lifted hand entwined in his own, expectant.

“The truth is, you are my family now. If you will want to be.”

Now, if he could, Stede would close his eyes and draw a long sigh of relief. The question he implied carries the weight of significant words, so full of care and timid visions of the future. He does not have the time to do any of that.

Ed’s kiss is fierce in the way he knows and loves – strong with the truth that lies beneath, with words he feels he cannot speak enough. He cannot help being carried away by their power, just like it happened when all he knew of him was his name. Though he accepts him fervently, his eyes remain wide open; he takes in the sensation with some shock, torn between pleasure and need for a straight answer.

“Uh… Ed?” he says in between pants, as his eyes focus to reveal a mischievous smile on his beloved’s face. “My darling, are you al-”

“Aw, fuck it.”

Stede cannot identify much of the words that come out of either their mouths after that. His memory of the moment will remain a chaotic waltz towards the tub, fragments of sentences nobody ever cared enough to finish, numerous instances of their heads banging together, sounds that were half kisses and half laughter. At the end of it all, his consciousness grows quiet: deliciously warm water, calm breathing, and the weight of a slender body resting on his own.

Ed seems inclined to do little more than stare at him, his fingers diving below the surface of the water to caress the softest parts of Stede’s belly and chest. Waving back and forth, they leave ripples like dolphins against a pleasant sunset. Electrified by every touch, his mind lets go of any logic, and elects to start pouring water on the thick black strands of hair that float all around his heart.

They resemble glossy algae in his hands, ever so gently breaking free of the dirt as the scent of lavender spreads around them in a welcoming aura. The shorter hair finds its way to frame the soft features of Ed’s face, and it is not long before Stede follows its path. From the strong jawline near his ears, his hands climb with respect, step after step, to get to the dark streaks that still plague his face.

Although something sours in Ed’s expression, he gives no sign of wanting to stop him. He closes his eyes and, Stede would love to think, he lets go.

The soapy water makes him think of waves on a shore: they wash the dirt away with them, stroke after stroke, to uncover treasures of skin and wrinkles. Those layers, Ed tells him through the way he grasps his forearm, are full of stories best torn away and forgotten. They walk back through time together, arm in arm, until his visage is a clean slate; and there, on fresh pages of supple brown skin, all their future is ready to be written.

When they open again, his eyes are glistening with the strength of the sea. The glint so familiar and beloved to Stede is the most alluring and comforting of sights, precious more than anything he could ever own.

Welcome home, it whispers to him. And he answers.

Neither of the men notices when the bath begins to cool. The sun shines highest on its throne now, rich with generous handfuls of gold to shine upon their skins. Stede watches his beloved writhe in the water, limbs and lips so busy with leaving behind trails of kisses. He spreads around his frame, all dark and silver and shine. The most handsome of sea monsters, he thinks dreamily. He pictures scales, or gills, or smooth skin growing on their necks; he imagines they will have every chance to float away together, to sink forever in their personal sea.

He lets his blonde hair and toes curl in abandon, soft against the edges of the tub. Nothing he has ever experienced even comes close to this. He has gone through the mechanics, he guesses, in a way he neither chose nor relished; but the certainty of his body is as sound as that of his mind. He circles Ed’s ear with a careful hand, and he whispers – to his voice and his limbs alone – that he is ready to learn.

“Let me show you,” Edward responds.

*

When the afternoon begins to decline, Stede opens his curtains to meet it on the ocean.

The gifts of its light are bountiful even as it sets, its warm tendrils beginning to turn rose. They cast a final glance, private and merry, on the last droplets that still run on their skins; they wrap around his hollow bedroom, so barren to his eyes, to make up for all that was lost, yet will never be lost again.

The curtains frame their bed like a theater stage, where the rest of their lives are beginning to be written. Many words are still owed, many broken branches to be mended; but the truth shines through from the beginning, where it was established neither would ever live without the other.

For all the way he has to go, Stede no longer understands what worry feels like. The balance of their bodies on one another is so frail, yet so much harder to let go of than anything else. He never plans on doing that again, whatever it may cost.

For the time being, he goes to rest. Clean, elated and exhausted in equal measure, he thinks with a chuckle.

Stede and Ed go sleep with the sun, and today – at long last – they are both happy and free.

[voiceless-terror]

Recognition

@aspecarchivesweek Day Five: Something New

Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Season One

In which Jon and Martin are more alike than they thought.

Jon, in spite of himself, was starting to get used to Martin living in the Archives.

Offering him shelter had been almost instinctual- after listening to his story, who wouldn’t? Terrorized for almost two weeks and no one, no one noticed. There was also the matter of Jon’s guilt; Martin thought he needed to put himself in danger to be thorough, to please Jon, and now he was homeless. Jon owed him this at the very least. No matter how much Elias disapproved of the situation.

And despite the occasional trouser-less wanderings, his presence was...appreciated. Late nights in the Archives were wearing him down: the statements were getting to him, and the unshakeable feeling of being watched when he knew he was alone was putting him on edge. Now he can blame that feeling on Martin, who he’d caught staring on more than one occasion. Jon was not surprised; he hadn’t been looking or feeling his best, highly unprofessional with his three-day stubble and rumpled clothes. Not a good look.

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t enjoy the cup of tea when Martin joined him in his worst bouts of insomnia. He would sit on the tiny couch in his office, nursing his own mug and chattering away in a low tone that Jon was starting to find soothing instead of irritating. At first Jon clammed up, uncomfortable with the sudden intrusion on his late night routine, but he soon found Martin didn’t expect him to respond or contribute, save the occasional grunt of acknowledgement. Sometimes Jon even craved the company, the familiar rhythms of Martin’s voice had become an unconscious comfort. 

Tonight he was looking particularly exhausted, slumped in his seat with deep purple bags under his eyes. It sent an unwelcome pang through Jon’s chest; Martin should be sleeping, not entertaining him because he chose to stay late. He said as much.

“You don’t have to stay up on my part.”

“Hm?” Martin looked up from his lap, eyes finding Jon’s. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I like the company, to be honest. Unless…?”

“I don’t mind,” Jon assured him. Shockingly, he found he meant it. Still, it didn’t ease his guilt. Martin was always here, never leaving the Archives for more than an hour to get food or other necessities. He considered his next words. “That being said, I hope you know you’re allowed to have a life outside of the institute. I won’t judge if you want to have a...late night, or go out. It’s not my business what you do in your free time.”

Martin squinted his eyes as if he didn’t understand the words Jon spoke. Christ, do I really seem that out of touch? He knew he could be severe and well, a bit of an ass at times. The stress of the job got to him more than he cared to admit. But he didn’t want his assistants to think they should follow his example. He was Head Archivist, it fell on his shoulders to get this place in some semblance of order. 

“I’m not really one for nights out, Jon,” Martin gave that familiar, self-deprecating laugh as he leaned back in his chair, an almost defeated-like set to his shoulders. “Well, besides the occasional drink with Tim and Sasha. And even those are sort of...I don’t know. They have their own thing going, and I feel like-”

“A bit of an outsider,” Jon provided before he could activate his ‘word to mouth’ filter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-”

“No,” Martin cut him off. “You’re right. Feels like I’m intruding.”

“Their banter can be overwhelming for the, ah, uninitiated.” On the few times he’d gone out with them in research, he’d felt more lonely than included. His awkward attempts at interjecting could make a conversation fall flat and he felt the need to accept every drink they handed in him the hopes of ‘loosening up.’ It never worked. They were never mean about it, no- or at least had the decency not to do it in his presence. 

“Tell me about it.” Martin gave Jon a tiny little smirk that sent his heart stuttering in his chest for no particular reason. “I’m used to it, is all. This isn’t much of a change in routine, worms notwithstanding.”

“You, er, don’t have friends you can meet up with? Or maybe a partner?” Christ, why am I prying? What’s gotten into me? Jon felt curious, the man practically lived with him and yet he barely knew him.

The bark of laughter he got in reply was sudden and more than self-deprecating. “A partner? Are you kidding me?” Martin’s tone threw him off-balance; it was jaded, bitter, not like him at all.

“I didn’t mean to pry-”

“No, it’s- to be frank, I don’t think I’m cut out for all that.” Martin toyed with the mug in his hands, gazing into it like it held the answers he needed. “I’ve uh, tried to go on a few dates, meet people, that sort of thing. But they all expect something at the end and it just never feels right, I can’t explain it. Like there’s something missing. ”

Jon paused; the words and their sentiment were not unfamiliar to him. In fact, they resonated quite deeply, if Martin meant what Jon thought he did.

“It’s always been that way- I get a crush, I get to know them, they want to, y’know, and I-I don’t know what's wrong with me, but I can’t-” He cut himself off, sitting up straighter as if suddenly remembering where he was and who he was talking to. “God, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this-”

“It’s fine.” And it was. Martin looked at his hands and Jon recognized the sadness in the set of his shoulders, the lines etched in his face. He never thought the two of them would have much in common but that- that was a feeling Jon knew all too well. “I think I understand what you’re getting at.”

Martin somehow managed to deflate even further, curling up as if trying to disappear. “Yeah, well- I think it’s time to admit that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.”

The words hit Jon harder than expected. His fists tightened in his lap; he was sixteen again, wondering why the kiss he stole in a backroom felt more invasive than intimate. He was reading romance novels, understanding the words but not the feelings they were supposed to invoke. He was in college, being called a ‘tease’ or a ‘prude’ when he pulled away at the end of the night. And it was all accompanied by that deep, crushing fear that he’d never be enough. 

No, you’re not that kid anymore. 

And Martin shouldn’t have to be either.

“What’s that look for?”

He was drawn from his thoughts at Martin’s words, looking up from the scratched wood of his desk. “Sorry?”

“You’ve- you’ve got that look on your face, like you’re const- like you’re thinking really hard.”

Jon tried to think of a way to word his query delicately, but ‘delicacy’ had never been his strong suit, according to Georgie. Come to think of it, it was never hers either. “Have you ever considered that maybe- that you’re- you’re of the persuasion, that is-”

Martin shot him a deadpan look, unimpressed. “Yeah, I know I’m gay, Jon.”

“That’s not-” He sighed in frustration, fuming at his inability to communicate. “It’s okay to not feel that way. I never have. It’s normal.”

Martin blinked. “Sorry?”

“Asexuality, that is,” he said, finally managing to get out the words. “I was...in a similar position, I guess you could say. I didn’t feel the way you were ‘supposed’ to feel, like how all the books and TV shows describe it. Zero interest in anything sexual, and I thought...well, I thought something was wrong with me.” Jon felt a lump building in his throat, much to his horror. “But being able to put a name to it, an identity, it just felt right.” Martin’s face was unreadable- had he spoken out of turn? Did he have this all wrong? 

He tried to clarify. “What I’m trying to say is that I know what it’s like, that...feeling you described. But it doesn’t mean you’re not cut out for love. You...you shouldn’t have to feel that way about yourself. You’ll find people who accept you. You’re not doomed to be lonely.” Now you’re just getting sentimental. Jon wasn’t one to dole out advice. He attempted to reign it in, get himself back on solid, familiar ground. “Maybe don’t take me for an example, though. I assure you, my isolation is very much self-imposed.”

Martin didn’t laugh. For a brief, panicky moment Jon thought he might have offended him, assumed the wrong thing, taken him out of context. But Martin met his eyes and Jon saw it- a look of dawning understanding, of comprehension and knowing and as much as Jon wanted to look away he couldn’t, because for the first time in a while he thought he might have said the right thing. 

_____

He watched as Martin puttered about in the break room and took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. Martin hadn’t said much after their conversation, just thanked him in a choked voice and mumbled some excuse about going off to bed. Jon felt a bit conflicted- he now had time to ruminate on the conversation, pick it apart and wonder if he said anything wrong. He didn’t think he had, but his instincts had been proven wrong before.

Still, the thought of helping one person, sparing them from that crippling self-doubt and inadequacy, made any embarrassment or awkwardness well worth it. So here he was, shuffling his feet and holding a stack of paper, stapled and neat and in some cases, annotated. He cleared his throat and Martin turned away from the sink to face him.

“Oh, g-good morning, Jon.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel, throwing it lightly on the counter. “Did you sleep well?”

He’d gotten two hours tops on the lumpy couch in his office. I need to invest in another cot. But he nodded anyway, walking forward and thrusting the pile out for Martin to take. Martin looked down at it quizzically but took it all the same, his face softening as he flipped through the pages.

“I, um- I printed out some articles that I thought might be of interest,” Jon rambled, feeling more awkward by the second. Was this too forward of me? “I’ve always found it easier to read on paper instead of the screen. For ah, concentration purposes. This- this isn’t required reading, or anything. Just might be helpful for, uh, figuring things out.”

Martin didn’t look up from the pages in his hand, instead zeroing in on them with a more intense stare. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with sincerity. “Thanks. It uh, it means a lot.”

“Yes,” Jon replied nonsensically, having no response to the emotion in Martin’s words. “You- you don’t need to talk to me about this, if you’d rather not. But I’m available if you’d like to.” He paused. Best to keep this somewhat professional- it was almost nine. “Outside of normal working hours, of course.”

“Of course,” Martin echoed, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he finally met Jon’s eyes. He fought down the urge to smile back, instead muttering an excuse and turning to flee the room. I think I’ve filled my emotional quota for the week. 

They don’t talk about it again, but a few days later a sticky note appears on his desk. Thanks- MB. Underneath the clear script he’d doodled a small flag- black, grey, white, and purple. 

Jon puts it in his right-hand drawer next to an old polaroid of the Admiral, where it stays.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782318

[bangtanloverboys]

until i see you again // ksj

summary - prince seokjin of philos is chosing his bride at his 25th birthday ball and you want to be anywhere but there. unfortunately you’re expected to go as a friend of the king and to escort your younger sister there; to see if she has a chance to win the prince’s heart. unbeknowst to you all, the prince’s eyes are already set upon someone

pairing - prince!seokjin x duke!reader

genre - fluff, angst; royalty au, childhood friends to lovers au, 

word count - 9.1k

warnings - historical inaccuracies, reader being an idiot, kissing, implied/referenced homophobia (it’s very slight, won’t even notice it if you squint), sad ending, star crossed lovers, miscommunication but it’s in the worst way possible

author’s note - sorry not sorry for making sad gay stuff oops; clast is part of the title, not yn’s actual family name. additionally, i put in a hint to new fic in here 👀 also @jinpanman since u asked to be tagged 💕 here u go

The stars had always fascinated you since you were a young lad; the shapes they made and the stories behind them, the way they always shifted in the night sky. While the view from your bedroom window at the castle was great, it could never show the full wonderful picture that was the night sky. Hence why you were now laying in the palace garden and staring up into the vastness before you, your arms folded behind your head.

“Y/N.” A familiar voice startled you into sitting up, only to see the silhouette of the Crown Prince Seokjin standing a few feet behind you. You were surprised to see him outside, but it wasn’t necessarily a shock seeing as your current place of residence was his home, the Castle of Philos. Your father, the Duke of Clast, was a close friend of the King, thus meaning he was invited to a lot of formal events. The Castle Philos was practically a second home to you, making it’s prince a close friend of yours. 

Of course your friendship was by no mere accident. It was by the design of both of your fathers’, wanting their allegiance to hold strong even with the new generation. Neither of you seemed to mind though, you both seemed to get along great with one another. But as the two of you grew up from boys and slowly approached manhood, you felt something else grow deep within your chest each time you saw the prince.

“Seokjin, you scared me!” You whisper shouted at him as sat himself next to you on the grass. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorted. “I saw you from the window, thought I might join you.” Your cheeks burned at his response as you watched him lay back on the grass, assuming the same position you had only moments ago. 

The sight of the young prince was something to behold as he lounged on the lawn, being at only 18 years old he was already picture perfect for everything a prince should be: honorable, intelligent, merciful. One quality you had heard whispered amongst the court ladies was how handsome he was, something not even you could deny. His dark eyes emulated the night sky, reflecting the stars up above. The soft angle of his jaw paired with the dark hair that fell over his forehead framed his face beautifully. Then there was his lips, they looked soft and pillowy; and you wanted nothing more than to feel them for yourself-

“Are you going to lay down or continue to sit there and stare?” He questioned you, raising a sculpted brow at you.

The burn extended past your cheeks to the tips of your ears. You laid down beside him, hoping the cool grass could possibly lower your growing temperature. You laid there, stiff next to him as your gaze locked back onto the sky. Neither of you said a word as the stars twinkled like diamonds above you. You heard the prince shift in his position, now resting on his elbow and staring down at you. 

“You’re thinking.”

“How would you know?” You scoffed at his (correct) assumption of your silence. While your voice remained steady, your head was reeling at his closeness. If he came any closer, he could’ve heard your heart thumping away against your chest. 

“You forget Y/N, I know you better than you know yourself.” He gave you a sly wink before he slipped back to lay his head back down. “Just relax, whatever it is you’re thinking, I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

You open your mouth to protest but a loud booming voice of your name echoed in your ears. 

“Y/N. . .Y/N. . . Wake up!” The voice of your younger sister bleeding through as you jolted awake. “Coachman said we’re nearly there.” Through bleary eyes, you glanced about your surroundings. Seated across from you was your sister, Jia, who stared at you as you blinked away the sleep from your eyes. You turned your head to the window, watching as the green countryside slowly began to turn into the village outside the castle. 

“How long was I out?” You inquired as you moved to sit up properly.

“A few hours,” she responded with a shrug. “Did you have a nice dream?”

“How would you know I was dreaming?” You asked her, still fatigued from the unplanned nap.

“You were smiling.” 

Your heart stung at her words; the question was innocent enough, but a reminder of the hurt you’ve felt since that night. You almost didn’t want to answer her original question, but the eager look on her face had you sighing. No way in hell would she go without an answer. Keeping a neutral face, you replied. “It was a pleasant dream.” That was all you said. There was a slight twinge of disappointment, but she took the answer nonetheless. 

 Letting out a sigh, you leaned back against the wall of the carriage, thinking back on the dream. It had been almost 7 years since that night with the prince. That was the last, what one might call, intimate moment with him. Because since that night, you had both been bombarded with your respective duties; him as prince and you as a duke to be. Surely you had seen him between then and now, but those moments were brief and far inbetween. In fact the last time you saw him was at the funeral of your father, sometime last year. You don’t remember much of that meeting, overwhelmed with grief to even process that he was giving you his condolences. 

But soon enough, you shall be reunited with the Crown Prince for this 25th birthday. Normally you would’ve been excited about going to see Seokjin, all you could feel in your stomach was dread. The reason being as to your visit was because his usual birthday ball had been twisted by his father for him to find a bride. All the eligible ladies in the land, which included your sister, were invited for him to pick one of them out as his future wife. The mere thought of it had you sick to your stomach. Your sister had a possibility of marrying your childhood best friend and your unrequited love, and you had to stand back and watch.

“Can you tell me again what he’s like?” Jia’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. Being a few years younger than you, she never got a chance to truly interact with Seokjin; and since the trip began, hell even before then when the invitation arrived, every few hours she would ask about him. What he was like, what he liked, if he was nice. Why she would ask this when all she had to do was wait a few hours before meeting him herself, you’d never understand. 

“Prince Seokjin is nice. He enjoys reading the history of the 7 kingdoms. When his father goes out hunting, he is usually required to join, but he will do anything he can to get out of it.” You droned as you stared out the window, surveying the commoners as you passed them by. 

“You’ve told me all this before though,” she whined, “What else is there to know about him? What was he like when you were boys?” When you remained silent, she poked at your knee, attempting to get some sort of answer out of you. “Come on, Y/N.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention towards Jia. “He’s always been fascinated with food and the process the cook would go about making it.” You started, noticing how your sister leaned forward, hanging on your every word. “We’d sneak into the kitchens, and he would just watch the cook as he cut up vegetables and meats. He’d go on about how if he wasn’t the prince, he’d want to be the cook.”

Jia barked out a laugh, “Did he really? For such a handsome man, he sure has some interesting habits.”

You gave a noncommittal hum as your stare returned to the window, watching as the villagers made their way out of the street and gawk at your carriage in awe. You could tell the journey was slowly coming to a close, and you weren’t sure if you wanted it to end yet. The dirt road turned to cobblestone beneath the wheels, it was only a matter of minutes before you arrived at the palace steps. 

Jia frantically began flattening out her gown and making sure her hair wasn’t out of place. The trip from Philos Castle to the Clast Manor was merely a half day's ride, it wasn’t like much had changed from when she had left.

You exited the coach first, immediately greeted by a handful of guards who were lined up the stairs of the castle. You wondered how long they’d been there and how long they’d have to be until everyone had arrived. Glancing about, you saw that there were a few more carriages arriving in the courtyard. 

The clearing of Jia’s throat pulled you back to the task at hand, you extended your arm out for her to grab onto as she stepped out onto the cobblestone. “Wow,” she awed as she stared up at the vast castle before her. You couldn’t blame her, the sight of Philos Castle was something to behold, especially if it was your first time seeing it. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the footmen pulling down your luggage and ready to carry it to your rooms. A silent notice that it was time for the two of you to get going. “Come along, Sister.” You started as you began to climb the steps.

Upon reaching the main entrance, you were greeted with the familiar face of the Steward, who perpetually looked like he had just tasted the world’s most sour candy. “Your Grace,” he bowed to you. “And Lady Jia. The King and prince are greeting their guests in the Grand Hall. Follow me.” That said, he turned and made his way down the hall. With you and your sister on his heels practically the entire way, you arrived at the Grand Hall.

The Grand Hall certainly lived up to its name. With high ceilings, beautiful pieces of art mounted on the walls, all glittering in the light of a golden chandelier. It was the picturesque dream of wealth and beauty. But all of its beauty couldn’t compare to Prince Seokjin, who stood at the end of the hall. Since the last time you saw him nearly a year ago, he still looked as handsome as ever. He was smiling at his father when the two of you entered, but when his gaze turned to you, you swore his smile grew bigger; brighter even. Keeping your eyes forward, you could feel Seokjin’s gaze on you, not wavering as you got closer. 

Next to him, the King let out a loud belly laugh as the two of you approached him. “Ah, Clast! It’s good to see you, my boy.” He bellowed out as you and your sister stopped in front of him.

“It’s good to see you too, Your Majesty.” You responded as you and your sister bowed respectively before him, all the while you could feel the prince’s burning stare. “May I introduce my sister, the Lady Jia.” With her introduction, she curtsied again before the two royals. 

“It’s a pleasure, Your Majesty.” She smiled as she rose up.

“The pleasure is all mine. I assume you know my son, Seokjin.” He gestured to his right to where the prince stood, silently staring at you. “Seokjin!” His father hissed, catching his attention.

His head jerked to attention at his name being called. “Sorry, yes. It’s lovely to see you again Clast- and meet you too, of course, Lady Jia.” He stumbled over his words as he bowed his head. “Apologies, my mind has been elsewhere.”

“It’s no worries, Your Highness.” You waved off his slip. 

“Anyways!” The King clasped his hands together. “The two of you must be tired from your journey, the steward shall show you to your chambers.” He gestured to the same sourface Steward stepped forward. “I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow night, Clast.”

“I can’t wait, Your Majesty.” You returned the king’s sentiments as you and your sister were led out of the hall, still feeling the prince’s stare seer into your back as you walked further and further away from the Grand Hall. 

Soon as the Grand Hall was far behind you, you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Had seeing Seokjin again affected you this much? While you had managed pretty fine to hold yourself together for that meeting, how on Earth were you going to manage the ball where he had to choose a wife? You couldn’t avoid him, there’s no doubt he’d want to catch up after not seeing you at all the past year. God, you felt like a fool for coming and thinking you’d be able to push your feelings out of the way. But your mother and sister jumped at the chance for the possibility of marrying the prince. Thus, you had no choice but to accompany your sister to the palace.

As the Steward led you down the winding hallways, you noticed that the hallways started to become more and more familiar. Considering you had dreamt of these hallways mere hours ago, it wasn’t that hard to place them from your memory. The King had set aside certain rooms for your family when you visited, you can’t say you were surprised or not about them still being set aside for you. Perhaps it was to still honor your father, or keep the good relationship between your families. However you were surprised to see the Steward stop in front of the heavy oak door of the room that was once your father’s. 

“Your Grace shall be staying here,” he announced as he opened the door. You stepped through the threshold, inhaling deeply as you glanced around the space. Your trunk was at the foot of the bed. The same bed he slept in, the same desk he worked at, the same books he read on the shelves. What felt stranger how despite the room not being occupied in years, it still held the same scent of leather bound books and ink. The scent of your father. “I hope the chamber is to your liking.” The Steward’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yes, it’s fine. Thank you.” 

“Very well, if the Lady Jia could please follow me.” With that, he shut the door. The distinct steps of him and your sister fade away down the hall as he escorted her away. 

Now alone, realization began to creep over you. When the invitation to the prince’s ball arrived you didn’t want it to be true. In fact, you almost pushed it so far back in your mind you nearly tricked yourself into believing it was just a bad dream. One that you’d wake up from any moment now. But now that you were finally there at the palace, a mere day away from the event. You were going to be sick. 

The sick knot in your stomach didn’t leave you the rest of the day, despite your best attempts at any distraction. You tried to keep ahead on some of the needs and resources of your providence, read a few chapters of a book you pulled from one of the shelves, changed out of your traveling clothes, anything to keep your mind off the inevitable ball tomorrow night yet nothing seemed to succeed. 

By the time the sun had fallen below the horizon, you still felt the overwhelming dread. So much so that you barely ate the dinner that was privately presented to you, barely being able to get more than a few bites down. In the midst of picking at your meat, there was a knock on your door. Curious as to who would be here so late in the evening, you unlatched the door to see Prince Seokjin standing before you.

“Y-Your Highness,” you stuttered out, not expecting him at such an hour. 

“Are we really referring to each other as titles? I thought we knew each other better than that, Y/N.” He said with a breathy laugh. 

The sound of his voice speaking your name was music to your ears. Loving the way each syllable fell off his lips, before you could stare at his mouth any longer than you probably already were, you cleared your throat. “Seokjin,” his face lit up when you called him by his name, “what are you doing here?”

“I thought we could catch up a bit? Seeing how we weren’t able to properly when you first arrived.” He shrugged, as if the plans were obvious. 

You hesitated a bit, seeing the late hour and if this would even do your heart any good considering you had 24 hours to attempt to get over him. 

“If you don’t want to, I understand.” He added, filling the silence you had provided. “It’s late, and you had a long journey. I’ll let you rest.” He began to turn, disappointment evident on his face.

“Wait!” You exclaimed, your hand wrapping around his wrist. When you realized how brash your action was, you released him, silently cursing yourself. “We can catch up, if that is what you wish.”

A smile grew on his face. “Of course! You still like stars, correct?”

You were taken back by his question. While you still had the fascination with stars, you had very little time nowadays to look at them. In fact the last time you even had time to look at stars was the night from your dream, when the prince laid down next to you in the castle gardens. Since that night, you’ve been too exhausted to stay up late enough to examine the night sky. “Yes?” 

“Brilliant! Follow me,” he grabbed your hand and whisked you down the hallway, barely giving you enough time to shut your door. Seokjin led you through the passages, only the moonlight shining through the windows to guide you. Your heart was going to beat out of your chest, with your hand snug in his grasp. 

He led you up a large door. With his free hand, Seokjin opened it, exposing a staircase before you. As the two of you started to climb up, you were beginning to recognize where you were going. “Are we-?”

“Shh! We’re almost there!” He shushed you as you arrived at the top of the stairs, revealing the observatory to you. You’re in absolute awe of the room, the large windows making up the walls and ceilings; the moon fully illuminating your surroundings. “Over here!” Seokjin tugged you towards the direction of one of the windows, a telescope set up and ready for use. 

You pulled your hand from his grasp and let your hands trace over the cool brass, enthralled with the device before you. When the two of you were boys, you weren’t allowed in the tower observatory in fear that you might break something. When you got older, you’d only been in there once before, but never beneath a clear night sky. 

A rush of chill air hit your body, you looked up to see the prince had opened up a window, giving more room for the telescope. “Take a look!” He stepped away from the device, making space for you.

Leaning down, you peered into the eyepiece. A gasp escaped your lips as you took in the brilliance of the stars right before your very eyes. You could pinpoint a few of the constellations you remember reading about. But instead of the fuzzy dots you were so used to seeing, you saw them clearly; they seemed even brighter. “Wow, Seokjin, I. . .” you straightened to look at him, who looked very pleased with himself, “I don’t know what to say? This is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in years.” That was partially a lie. He was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life, nothing could top him. 

“You’re welcome,” he said with a sly smile. “I got it recently and I thought of you.”

“You. . . thought of me?” Your heart fluttered at the thought.

“Of course, Y/N.” He took a step closer to you, “I always think of you.” His words were soft as he gently raised his hand to your face, brushing a few stray hairs from your eyes. Your breath hitched as the tips of his fingers grazed over your skin. Meeting his eyes, you noticed for a split second that his gaze flickered down to your mouth. Then he slowly began to lean towards you. Your feet turned to stone, you couldn’t move as he got closer and closer to you. You weren’t sure what was happening. It couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream. Your mind was racing at a million thoughts a second, as Seokjin got closer and closer. Just about when the prince’s lips seemed to hover over your own-

DONG

The sound of a clock chimed loudly in the observatory, shattering the moment and bringing you back to reality. Immediately, you stepped away from Seokjin, your face burning hot. “It’s late. I- I need to get to bed.” You turned away from him, embarrassed at what had just happened. 

“Right.” There was a twinge of dismay in his voice as he spoke. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”

“That won’t be necessary!” You cringed at how quickly you rejected his offer. “It’s late, and your chambers are farther than mine. Goodnight, Your Highness.” You bowed your head then rapidly made your way back down the stairs, barely hearing the prince’s ‘Goodnight’ in return. 

The following morning you did not want to get out of bed. You did not- could not face the prince again after last night. What happened had to have been a dream, it had to be. But the clear memory of the stars, how you could vividly recall the way your hand fit into his all proved you otherwise. It actually happened, and you couldn’t help but feel humiliated. He was getting married soon, for God Sake! And it couldn’t be you. It will never be you. 

Eventually had to get up. Dressing yourself up a bit, but you remained in your room. Deciding to read and work on any paperwork, distracting yourself from even thinking about Seokjin. 

You managed to do so quite nicely up until the hours before the ball was to start. Outside your window, spotting the hustling of all the castle staff trying to finish up the last of the preparations, scrambling to get them done. However all the chaos from outside the window and outside your door pulled you from your progress of not thinking of the prince or the party. All throughout the halls, people were gossipping about the prince and which lady he would choose as his possible wife. 

When the clock struck the hour, signalling that the ball was to start, you knocked on the door to your sister’s chambers. “If that’s you Y/N, I’m nearly ready. You can come in!” She called from the inside. With a roll of your eyes, you pushed open the door to see your sister sitting in front of a vanity, a maid-servant finishing up her hair. Looking at you through the mirror, Jia lips quirked up into a smile. “Why don’t you look handsome, Brother.”

You take a quick glance at yourself behind her; you’re dressed only more elevated than usual. Fresh pair of trousers and shoes on, your waistcoat buttoned neatly, and your hair is more styled. Other than that, you look practically the same as you would on any other day. Not wanting to argue with your sister, you merely bowed your head in thanks. 

“What do you think of the dress?” Jia asked as the maid finished with her hair, she stood to reveal the full picture. The style of the dress was similar to something she had worn to your ascension, yet this was light blue in color. There was no grand design amongst the dress, it was simple and fitting. 

“You look lovely,” you responded.

“Thank you. You said he liked blue, correct?” She questioned as she began to slip on her gloves.

“Pardon?” 

“The prince? His favorite color is blue?” She clarified as she walked over to you. “Honestly, Y/N, where is your head? I’m trying to gain his favor. Helps that I have his best friend as a brother.” She chortled as she linked arms with you. 

“Right, yes. He favors blue.” You muttered as you turned towards the door. “Right, well, let’s get going. Don’t want to be late.” You forced a cheerful tone. With that, your sister smiled at you and you began to make your way towards the ballroom. 

Already you saw lines of fabulously dressed noble women and royals from across the seven kingdoms, all willing to try and win Prince Seokjin’s affections. You saw a few familiar faces as you escorted your sister about the room; friends of your late father, fellow dukes and viscounts, even a couple visiting princes. All of which were either here to escort the most eligible woman in their family or merely showing support for the prince’s birthday. 

About an hour in, Jia excused herself to try and gain a dance with the prince, leaving you standing alone at the sidelines; watching Seokjin dance with lady after lady after lady. He was a talented dancer, dancing gracefully with each partner. With each dance, you couldn’t help but notice a disinterested look grow on his face. A few times when you thought he caught your eye, you spotted a glimmer in his eye. A spark of happiness that managed to peak through his facade. But when he turned, causing his partner to face you. You saw a proud smirk on their face, as if they were the ones that made him perk up. 

“Clast? Is that you?” A familiar voice called out to you. Turning your head to follow the voice, you spotted the owner of the voice. Prince Yoongi of Lun was making his way towards you, pushing his way through the crowd. “It’s good to see you.” He held his hand out for you to shake.

With a smile, you took it. “Good to see you too, Your Highness. How are things?”

“Good, everything is good. You’re here on behalf of your sister, I suppose?” He asked as his hand retreated.

The mention of your sister had your chest aching, reminding you of the entire situation once again. “Y-yes. She is somewhere in the crowd, waiting her turn.” Hopeful that he didn’t catch on to your hesitation; you gestured over to the dance floor, as if you couldn’t see her waiting at the front of it. 

It was clear that he had noticed it, yet he didn’t point it out, only saying “I see.” He turned to face the crowd next to you, standing in silence as the band played on. “Have you married yet, Clast?” He questioned.

“No, h-haven’t had the time.” Your basic response to whenever anyone questioned your marital status, a normal question made by men wanting to set you up with their daughters. Why would Yoongi be asking you that though, you thought to yourself, unless he was thinking about asking to set you up with someone? But that couldn’t be, as you don’t recall him having any female relatives. 

“Not having the time. . .” He repeated, laughing softly to himself. “Surely you’ve had enough time, attending balls like this? You’re a young man with a title, young ladies and their mothers must be crawling over you.” He further inquired. 

“Well, yes. . .” you struggled to rack your mind for a plausible excuse. He was for the most part correct, parties like this usually had young eligible noble women practically throwing themselves on to you. But upon your excuse, they usually backed away. Not further question you. “It’s just-uh-” 

Before you managed to come up with a concrete answer, Yoongi spoke again. “You don’t need to answer that. But to a degree, I can understand you.”

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t think I follow?”

“You’re in love, are you not?” He turned his head to you, a knowing expression. You opened your mouth to deny it, but no words came out. “It’s clear as day. But for some reason, you cannot be with them. Yet you long to be.” His face seemed to fall a bit at his words and he turned to face the crowd again. “Believe me, you’re not alone in that sort of suffering.” His gaze fixated on a young male servant, who stood at the edge of the ballroom, tray in hand. For a fraction of a second, you saw a soft smile across his face. But soon as the smile was there, it was gone. “Take my advice, don’t let him get away.” He gave your shoulder a firm pat before he walked back into the crowd, not permitting a response from you. 

Glancing back to the center of the dance floor, you made eye contact with Seokjin. This time there was no denying it. He beamed at you and suddenly all the people in the room seemed to fade away, like it was only the two of you. He was radiant in the light of the ballroom, his smile radiating happiness. Yoongi was right, you were in love with the prince and you wanted nothing more than to be by his side. 

With his advice echoing in your mind, you moved to take a step forward but your legs felt like lead. All at once, the golden glow of the ballroom faded to grey; the prince’s bright light dimmed, dark shadows danced at the edge of your vision. You could feel all of the court staring at you, whispering amongst themselves. Jia’s eyes were locked on you, fire burning in them The King frowned in disapproval. There were too many eyes on you. Your heartbeat was in your ears, throbbing against your skull. At the center of it all, Seokjin stood out in the crowd, his features twisted with concern. He mouthed something to you, something you couldn’t make out. You took a step backward, it felt easier than moving forward. You took another, and another, until you turned on your feet and dashed out of the ballroom. 

Air, you needed air. Quickly, you weaved your way through the busy hallways until you found the door to the garden terrace. Thankfully, no one from the party seemed to have come outside as of recently, leaving you alone. You let your hands rest upon the stone railing as you caught your breath, the cool night air filling your lungs. Raising your head up, you stare up at the sky, the moon staring back down at you. 

“You alright?” Whipping around, you saw Seokjin standing in front of you, the light of the open door behind him giving him a golden halo. “Y/N?”

You turned back around, staring back out into the gardens. “I’m fine.”

His steps against the stone echoed, only stopping once he was practically right behind you. “Don’t lie to me, what happened?”

You barely understood what had happened. One moment you were filled with confidence, ready to pull him to the side to speak with him. Then the next you felt nothing but shame. The judgement of the court, your sister, the king. You couldn’t tell him. Yoongi had sweet sentiment, but it just couldn’t be. He was the prince! And you were a duke. A man. You wouldn’t even be able to openly tell him you love him, let alone marry him! “I needed some air.”

“I could use some too, it was getting stuffy in there.” He responded as he continued to stand behind you.  “Come on. We could both use a little break from the excitement.” You didn’t move, it was a bad idea to go with him. Just return to the party and move on. “Y/N. . ?”

Despite your better judgment, you turned to face him. His beautiful smile grew once you faced him. “Lead the way.”

He led you down the stairs of the terrace and into the gardens. Neither of you said anything, letting the music of the ball fade away into the sounds of the night. The further you walked away from the palace, the less concerned you found yourself about if the people were going to come looking for you. It was only you and Seokjin now.

He took a turn off the path, walking over the lawn towards the roses. Spotting a stone bench, he seated himself, you continued standing beside him. “You can sit, Y/N.” He gestured to the spot beside him. You hesitated for a moment before finally sitting down next to him. His knees brushed against yours as you both stared out over the gardens. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” He asked after a moment.

“Nothing is bothering me.” 

“Y/N, I know you better than you know yourself.” Repeating the very same words he said nearly 7 years ago. “What’s the matter?”

Taking a deep breath, you answered. “You’re getting married.”

Seokjin frowned at your admission. “What on Earth gave you that idea?”

It was your turn to be confused. “Your father? On the invitations, it was a call that you’d be picking your future bride at this very ball.” You explained. 

“Believe me when I say this Y/N,” he took your hands in his, “I have no intentions of picking a bride tonight nor ever.”

Those last few words echoed around in your brian. “Ever?”

“I can’t be with someone who I don’t love,” he said as if it were obvious. “When I become king, the only person I want by my side is you.”

Your hands grew clammy as your heart pounded against your ribs. “Seokjin, what are you saying?”

“Is it not obvious?” His hands moved to cup your face. When you met his eyes, the poor attempt at a wall that you tried to build over your heart broke away. 

“I need to hear you say it,” your voice faltered, barely above a whisper. 

Leaning in closer, his breath fanned over your lips. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air for barely a moment before you closed the gap between you two. Your eyes fell shut and the entire world melted away, leaving only you and Seokjin being the only sole beings in that moment. And oh how you wanted to live in that moment forever. To know nothing else but the feel of his lips against yours, the sweet scent of the roses around you, the brisk air of the night tickling any exposed skin as you clung to each other. 

You don’t know when but tears had begun to roll over your cheeks. The wetness passed over your lips, tasting of salt as you continued to kiss. The slight bitter taste had him pulling away, eliciting a whine to fall from you. He couldn’t leave now, not after how long you’ve dreamt of this moment! Opening your eyes, the blurry outline of Seokjin was whipping away your tears. Blinking the rest of them away, the clear image of him filled your mind, taking notes of any little detail. You had to remember this moment for the rest of your life.

“Why are you crying?” His voice was soft as his thumb caressed your tear stained face. 

“Truthfully, I don’t know.” You responded, the last coming out in a sort of chuckle. Baffled at your own emotions. 

“No more tears, love.” He brought his lips to your forehead, pressing a small kiss to it. “No more tears.”

Despite you nodding in agreeance, more tears fell from your eyes. Whether it be tears of relief or joy, you couldn’t stop them from flowing. Placing one of your hands over his, you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. You opened your mouth but you could even manage to get a word out, a shout was heard. 

“Prince Seokjin! Your Highness? Where are you?” An unfamiliar male voice called out.

Within a second, you pulled yourself away from him, fearful of being caught. Seokjin closed his eyes, letting out a huff, clearly upset with the interruption. “It appears our company has been missed.” He sighed as he stood up, straightening his overcoat.  “I’m here! Clast and I were merely stepping away for a moment.” 

The servant appeared around the corner; with the cover of the night, you doubt he saw you kissing, but you couldn’t be sure until he spoke again. “The King is calling for you, sir. He wants you to dance with the Princess of Maldonia.”

“Thank you, I’ll be with him right away.” Seokjin gave him a tight smile as he dismissed the servant, who promptly bowed and scurried back towards the party. “I’m sorry.” He sat back down, taking one of your hands in his. 

“No, it’s not your fault.” 

“But there’s so much we need to discuss-”

“Seokjin,” you squeezed his hand, “we’ll figure it out.”

With a smile on his lips, he kissed you one last time before standing again. The two of you walked hand in hand back towards the castle again. He stopped when you reached the stairs to the terrace. “I’ll send a letter to your room later tonight, I would stop by but I fear my father isn’t going to be happy with hearing me not choosing a bride.” He chuckled, looking down at your still linked fingers. 

You laughed with him, before falling silent. The music of the party reminded you that you couldn’t remain there forever. “You need to go.” Seokjin didn’t move yet, still staring down at your hands, trying his damnedest to turn a single moment into a thousand. 

“Not yet.”

Unfortunately, as soon as the words left his mouth the servant stepped out onto the terrace, forcing him to drop your hand. “Your Highness, the King is growing impatient.”

With a sigh, he made his way up the stairs. Once he reached the top, he looked back down at you. His smile was back on, glowing and beautiful, yet his eyes were pained as he spoke. “Good talk, Clast. Enjoy the rest of the party.” Then he turned toward the servant, following him back into the brightly lit hallways of the castle. 

 The rest of the party went by in a blur. When you returned to the ballroom, your sister came up to you and complained about how she didn’t get a chance to dance with Seokjin before he started dancing with the Princess of Maldonia. Whatever she said you didn’t hear, because you were too busy looking for the prince but he was nowhere to be found. The only prince you did make eye contact with was Prince Yoongi, who was standing across the hall, a knowing look on his face. 

By the time the party was over and you had returned to your room, you were anxious to wait for Seokjin’s letter. You couldn’t help but think about what it might contain. Plans for the future? His feelings about you? You stayed up waiting for a servant to knock or perhaps it would slide beneath the door. 

Yet nothing arrived. 

You waited until the rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, but nothing came. Laying down on your bed, you felt a knot grow deep in your stomach. You thought of a million scenarios as to why. Perhaps by the time he talked with his father he fell asleep soon as he reached his room, or maybe he fell asleep writing it. You tried to be reasonable with your thoughts, but your mid went to darker places as you laid there. Did his father get mad at him for not wanting to choose someone and throw him in the dungeon? Were you spotted and he was getting punished? Would they come for you next? Or what you thought could be even worse, did he regret his confession?

It was 10 o’clock when a servant came to wake you, finding you red eyed and exhausted. He was clearly shocked by your current state, as you could see by his face, but he said nothing on it. “Your sister is nearly ready to go, Your Grace.”

“I’ll be ready in a moment,” you grumbled as you pulled yourself out of the bed. The servant bowed before he left, probably to get your carriage ready. One half of you wanted to get ready as fast as possible, leave the castle and never return. You’d hide away in Clast Manor forever. But the other half wanted to stay, find Seokjin and demand an answer as to why nothing came. 

Once you were dressed and reorganizing your belongings into your trunk, there was a knock, followed by Jia throwing the door to your chambers open; quickly followed by some footmen. 

“You were apprehensive to come and now you’re stalling to leave?” She raised a brow at your still open trunk.

 “Had a lot on my mind, I apologize.” You dryly apologized as the servants shut your case and began carrying it out of the room. Your answer didn’t seem to satisfy her, as she rolled her eyes at you. “Let’s get going then,” you held out your arm for her to take. With a huff, she linked arms with you. The two of you walked in silence as your steps echoed in the halls. 

As you turned towards the staircase that would lead you towards the entry hall, you heard your name called out. Turning, you spotted Seokjin running towards you. Glancing at your sister, she looked confused as the prince was making quite a hurry to get to you. 

“Go wait by the carriage,” you told her, kissing her cheek. “I promise I’ll join you soon.”

“You better, or else I’m leaving without you.” She muttered as she started down the stairs, the footmen following behind her. 

You watched her descend as Seokjin arrived behind you; putting on a brave face, you faced him. He looked nearly as tired as you were, yet somehow he managed to make dark circles under his eyes attractive. Opening your mouth to say something, he pulled you off to the side of the hall, hiding behind a larger planter. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to deliver it sooner,” he huffed out as he placed a sealed parchment in your hand.

“I-” you were stunned, for a moment you truly thought he might’ve regretted what happened last night. Yet here he was, parchment in hand. “Why? What took you so long?

“I uh- Well. . . you’ll know in the letter.” He waved your question away before taking both of your hands in his. “Promise me you’ll write as soon as possible? Please?”

You stared down at your joined hands, and all the hurt feelings from the night bubbled up to the surface again. The anxiety, fear, betrayal. It all came rushing back, but as you looked up to speak your mind, your words died in your throat. His pleading eyes bored into yours and butterflies erupted in your stomach. Sucking in a breath, you nodded. “I promise.”

Seokjin looked like he was going to cry as he heard your words, pulling you into his arms. You attempted to resist for a moment before melting into his embrace; wishing you didn’t have to leave so soon. Wishing you had more time to talk. His lips grazed over the shell of your ear,  his breath fanned against your skin as he hesitated for a moment. He said nothing as he pressed a kiss then he pulled away. He gave you one last fleeting smile before he ran back down the hall, disappearing behind a corner.

Stuffing the letter into your pocket, you made your way down the stairs. As you approached the bottom, you came across the King as he was bidding some of his guests goodbye. Despite how badly you wished to leave as soon as possible, you couldn’t risk not saying goodbye to your host.

“Ah, there you are Clast! I hope you enjoyed the ball!” He said as he shook your hand tightly. 

“It was a wonderful party, Your Majesty. Thank you for the invitation.” 

“But of course! I hope you can come around again for the wedding!” He patted your hand as he let go.

“W-wedding, Your Majesty?” You questioned as he turned to the person behind you.

“Goodbye, Clast. Have a pleasant trip home!” Either he didn’t hear you or he was purposefully ignoring the question. Whichever it was, your head felt like it was spinning as you exited the palace doors. 

You spotted your carriage not far from the base of the steps, Jia looking thoroughly annoyed in the window as she waited for you. Carefully as you could, you made a beeline for the door. You didn’t even give a footman enough time to step down and open the door for you, just throwing it open and clambering in.

“Your Grace-?”

“Just go!” You snapped, waving your hand to signal for the coach to get moving. Seokjin’s letter burned through your clothes, you wanted nothing more than to rip it open and find out for yourself what the King meant by a wedding and what his explanation was. But with Jia sitting across from you, who was eyeing you like a caged animal, you had to wait till you returned home. 

The journey to Philos was a long drag you will admit, but the return to Clast Manor felt like ages in  comparison. Jia must’ve sensed your agitation as she said nothing the entire way back, not even a word when you stopped for supper at an inn a quarter through the way home. Soon as you arrived back at the manor, you took off towards your bedroom, not even bothering to greet your mother or other siblings. You could hear the murmurings of your family as you clambered up the staircase. 

Once behind the safety of your locked chambers, you lit an oil lamp and pulled Seokjin’s letter out from your coat pocket. Your fingers traced over the seal of the prince, staring at the blue wax for a moment. The seal should’ve settled your anxiety yet it continued to bubble deep in your stomach. Breaking open the wax, you unfolded the paper to read what explanation Seokjin might have. 

My dearest, Y/N

I’m sorry for such a delay, but I have unfortunate news. Apparently the ball was merely a facade of choice for me, Father has gone behind my back and arranged a marriage between the Maldonian Princess and myself in a fortnight. Upon my refusal, he locked me away in my room and won’t  let me out until I agree to the union. With you waiting and about to leave in the morning, I have no other choice but to say yes. By the time you have read this, I will be engaged.

So there was your explanation of the wedding, the King was referencing. Your heart ached at the words, hating the news, but you read on. 

I’ve devised a plan though, a plan for you and me to flee Philos and live together far away. Where no one can ever find us ever again. My title shall go to my cousin Hoseok, he shall rule Philos instead of I. Remember all those games and stories we made up where we didn’t have to be king or duke? Those dreams can become our reality! I know it sounds insane, but I’m ready and willing to do it. 

For you.

Write back to me as soon as you can and we can begin our plot.

Until I see you again, 

Seokjin

Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes, threatening to fall onto the parchment. Not daring to drop the precious letter, you ran over to your desk and scrambled for fresh parchment. You were soaring above the clouds as you seated yourself down, reading your pen and ink. You held nothing back as you accepted his proposal to run away, ready and willing at any moment he proposed. You didn’t care about the ink droplets that fell or any scribbles of words you misspelled. All that mattered was you sent the letter off at first light. 

Without even thinking, you heated up the blue ink your mother had not so subtly been purchasing for you, in hopes you’d find yourself a lover or a wife anytime soon. Pressing your personal seal into the hot wax, you officialized your promise to Seokjin. 

Despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the exhaustion of not sleeping at all the night before slowly caught up on you, barely giving you enough time to even properly undress before you collapsed onto your bed. That night you dreamt of your new life with Seokjin. The two of you so far away from anyone you might know, living in a cottage at the edge of the woods, perhaps selling bread to a nearby village. The both of you together, completely happy.

When you woke up the following morning, rushing down to a messenger to send off your letter to Philos at once. Despite the confusion of you just being there, the messenger followed the order and rode off fast as he could. The rest of the day you were in a chipper attitude, something your family was a bit surprised at considering the grim demeanor you held leaving the manor and arriving back last night.

However the happy attitude could last so long. 

It should only take a day or two for the prince to respond to your correspondence, but when your messenger arrived back empty handed, you felt the familiar flood of anxiety rush through you again. You dismissed it though, perhaps he’s following through with his father and visiting Maldonia for some reason or other. Waiting a few more days, yet nothing arrived. You crafted another letter and sent it off with a different messenger that night. The only thing that returned was a wedding invitation.

You dropped the letter off in the parlor where your family were all visibly excited about a wedding. The only one sharing your glum mood of the announcement was Jia, who was mourning the loss of such a match. You didn’t even bother telling her it wouldn’t have worked out anyways, just sitting in silence as your littlest sister talked about how pretty a royal wedding was going to be. 

The day of the wedding your mother all but dragged you out of bed to go, not even giving you a moment to even feign sickness. 

“You must go in support of your future king and friend! I won’t have you wasting away all the work your father did for us to continue to be close friends of the royal family.” She scolded you, throwing wear onto your bed. With your younger siblings staying behind; you, Jia, your mother, and your other brother all got into the carriage and started off towards the capitol.

The city was decorated with ribbons and flowers as crowds of people lined up along the streets, waiting for a chance to get a glimpse at the royals and nobles arriving. You wished to be home at the manor, a nearby kingdom, just anywhere but have the man who broke your heart and made a fool of you stand in front of you and get married.

Exiting the carriage, you joined the line of the court to be escorted into the Grand Hall. With your mother on your arm, she pointed out the things that have changed since her last visit, but her chittering fell on deaf ears, you simply stared off into the distance as the entrance to the Grand Hall grew closer and closer. By the time you had arrived at the threshold, you were greeted by the king. 

“Ah, Duke and Dowager Duchess of Clast, lovely to see you both.” The King greeted you as you both bowed before him. Taking your mother’s hand, he pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “And you’re looking wonderful, Dowager.”

“Oh thank you, Your Majesty. You’re too kind,” she giggled, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the scene. 

“Clast, I'm glad you could make it.” He shook your hand next, “Seokjin has been. . . anxious to hear from you. He’d be so happy to see you’re here.” His grip on your hand tightened as his words began to register with you. 

“Wait-”

“Enjoy the wedding,” he released your hand and moved on to the next guest. Your mother pulled you and your siblings in the direction of the pews. The voices of all the people echoing against the walls became muffled as you were seated down in the front of the hall, right in front of the altar. Thoughts were rushing through your mind faster than you could think of them. 

Does that mean Seokjin didn’t purposefully not respond? Did he even receive your letters? Did his father know? How did his father know? You had to find Seokjin, perhaps you could come up with some sort of plan and you could still run away together after the wedding. You just had to find him-

The sound of a horn silenced the Grand Hall, everyone falling quiet as they stood and watched the Crown Prince walk down the aisle. The breath was sucked out of your lungs as he walked past you. He looked absolutely regal in his royal wear, his crown placed perfectly on his head, he looked every bit of the prince he was. The only give away there was to his true mood was his eyes; there were dark circles under his eyes, deeper than they were the last time you saw him. When he stopped at the altar, he turned, his eyes surveyed across the court.

His eyes met yours and his gaze sharpened. You felt all the hurt and pain you’ve been feeling returned to you tenfold in that moment alone. You wanted to run to him, scream and cry out for him. Tell him that you did write back, that you did want to run away with him, but you were frozen in your place. 

When the music started up again, his eyes snapped to the aisle to watch his bride. He remained focused on the Maldonian Princess standing in front of him. The entire ceremony your eyes never left Seokjin, silently begging- pleading for him to turn and look at you. 

But he never did.

[autisticandroids]

ok how would girls au work because i feel like to keep true with the theme of toxic gender roles them being cool and butch feels very at odds with that when like the girl version of that would be like christian girl with an instagram talking about country life and her future husband like it would be an interesting combo for them because john would be like ur an inherent failure for being a girl but also the expectations are lower already for them compared to john and sons

yeah it’s like weird! but i think about it a lot. i made a big fun post with it here.

basically my ideas are a combination of serious (dean) interesting (sam) and self-indulgent (cas).

like first of all i think sam is an out lesbian and i think she came out during the fight before stanford. like, i think she told dean when she was like fifteen, but she told john the night she left. she spat it in his face, actually. 

i think dean is like. dean loves her unconditionally but is also lightly homophobic to her about it, you know? they were accustomed to sharing motel room beds as kids but dean won’t do it anymore now that she knows sam likes girls. dean is also like, weird to her about her interactions with other women, and also talks constantly about men, as though men-liking were a cool exclusive club only dean is invited to.

i think sam has like butt length straight hair and doesn’t wear any makeup ever but doesn’t like. wear mens clothes or anything, like she wears plain clothes that are cut for women. on hunts she puts her hair in a braid. maybe she braids a spiked strap into it like beka cooper.

dean is like........ dean is a lot like young, pre-john mary i think. think the song remains the same. dean is obsessed with performing masculinity, while at the same time terrified of seeming mannish or queer. she walks a weird line, and ends up overperforming both masculinity and femininity. she regularly challenges dudes twice her size to arm wrestling contests in bars, but she never goes out of the motel room without a full face of makeup. like she’s obsessed with doing both. masculinity for respect, and femininity for conformity. you know that thing dean does with his voice? the harshening? the intentionally adopted accent and tough guy tones? she does that too. and her voice is raspy, like rachel miner’s. she’s just as invested in her “heterosexuality” as canon dean.

she wears dean’s same green army jacket but underneath it she ties up a flannel shirt so it bares her midriff. she wears her hair like s13 mary, except that sometimes she puts it in little pigtails. 

cas is the easiest because cas’ gender presentation doesn’t matter at all except in how OTHER PEOPLE relate to her, so it’s less a question of “how would cas do woman?” and more a question of “what would it be fun to see other people/dean specifically react to?”

so basically like. jimmy novak is a frumpy feminine christian mom. still wears the trench coat and probably a suit but when i say suit i mean blazer, pencil skirt, tights, blouse (or maaaybe a button down), low-ish heels. long hair in bouncy curls (think rowena’s hair but no bangs and black). actually jimmy novak probably pinned her hair up in a slight updo.

anyway i’ve decided that i refuse to try and remember what actually happened with cas falling in like, canon, like how close he got to human. this au’s cas gets close enough to human that she has to start like. showering. anyway she can’t take care of the hair so it gets tangled in a giant rat’s nest and dean gives her a bathroom chop. she has to borrow the winchester sisters’ clothes, because she has to start changing clothes but also because she can’t fucking walk in jimmy’s heels or in that confining skirt without the assistance of her grace. 

all the winchesters’ clothes look baggy on her because she’s kind of spindly and narrow and flat as a board. like dean and sam have big shoulders, big hips, and big breasts, and cas has zero out of three, so anything she wears looks like a smock. she keeps wearing the coat over whatever they give her. she’s tallish (five feet eight or nine inches?) but dean is taller and sam is freakishly tall. cas could probably pass for a man alone but when she’s with dean or sam it’s obvious she’s a woman just because of the heights.

when she returns to angelhood at the end of season five, she’s wearing jimmy’s white office button down, but no bra underneath because the only reasons she would need one would be to either make her boobs look bigger or to hide her nipples and cas isn’t interested in either of those things and bras are uncomfortable, no blazer on top, a set of cargo pants that look feminine and form fitting on dean because dean is in possession of an ass and hips, but baggy and dykey on cas because she is not, combat boots (also dean’s), and the coat, and her hair is just like canon cas’ hair but way choppier because dean cut it for her.

anyway, dean treats cas in a WILD way, like. they do some intricate rituals in season four? they are dean winchester and castiel, after all. but after cas butches up in season five and then stays that way dean pushes it into overdrive. “i wish you were a boy so i could date you” shit. dean lets cas put a hand on the small of her back. she jokes that cas is her boyfriend. when cas sleeps, they sleep in the same bed, “since you can’t possibly share with sam, she’s a dyke.” also she called cas cassie a lot when cas looked more feminine but switches exclusively to cas when cas looks more masculine. like it’s this whole “”””straight”””” girl intricate ritual where one is attracted to a masculine woman so one coercively masculinizes her further.

sam tries to check in with cas to see if cas is cool with this forcible masculinization and weird gender relationship, because sam is gay and Understands or at least thinks she does. she also catches wind that cas is here to smash a lot sooner than in canon. but anyway cas rebuffs her because cas hates sam. 

tangent, but one of my least favorite things that happens in mid spn, starting i think in s6, is that they start needing plausible deniability for cas, so they start pretending him and sam are like, friends. like 6.20 “i did it to protect the boys. or to protect myself. i don’t know anymore.” like there’s all this emotional stuff where cas is clearly talking about his emotional connection to dean, but sam gets included in order to make it seem SLIGHTLY less gay. and that’s annoying because of the no-homo-ness but it’s actually more annoying because 1) i liked s5 cas’ bitchiness towards sam i think that killed and 2) if sam and cas are gonna be friends after cas was a bitch and called sam an abomination and shit, develop it! develop it! don’t just Say that they are.

anyway it’s my au and i say what happens so the plausible deniability “both the brothers are important to me” shit does NOT happen and cas is a bitch to sam throughout s5&6. they do eventually bond later? like cas still takes sam’s hell trauma, and sam feels like she owes her for that (even though it was CAS’ FAULT IN THE FIRST PLACE but sam is batshit like that). so that’s what kind of gets them to eventually bond a little and become friends and comrades. 

also sam clocks cas as gay. obviously. sam tries to inform cas about being gay. because sam too is gay. it only kind of sticks. cas doesn’t really understand how human societal roles work. cas has HUGE angel autism and i support her.

also as long as we’re talking about five and six, why don’t we deal with male lisa. so obviously the kid thing doesn’t work. the thing that lisa does that makes dean like :o is not “have a kid that might be dean’s” but “tell dean he was going to propose.” this implies that they were dating in the past longer than canon dean and lisa but oh well. 

however, when dean gets pulled back into hunting, she’s six weeks pregnant by lisa and doesn’t know it. cas immediately tells her, and offers to give her an angelic abortion. she accepts without hesitating and cas does it. the fact that this - cas taking ownership of dean’s reproductive organs in a somewhat invasive way, even if it was wanted - contributes to their whole.... season six..... dynamic. dean never tells lisa about this.

that’s everything i can think of. i have work in four hours.

[decodingellipses]

Modern Love: He Made Affection Feel Simple

[courtesy of Brian Rea]

"Dating as a transgender woman, in my experience, meant low expectations and casual sex. Then I met Jack."

This piece is part of the Modern Love column at The New York Times

by Denny

My bio on Grindr read: “Be trans friendly. Send face to chat.”

It was difficult to be on a gay hookup app as a trans woman. Most men in my feed desired to only sleep with each other. But I knew there were straight men on Grindr who hungered for a woman like me. I wanted them too.

That’s where I met Jack. At 22, he was a few months older than me, and, other than his age, his entire profile was blank, usually an indicator of a cisgender straight man who was guarded about his attraction to trans women. Typically, the messages I received would start with a vulgar sext, sometimes an unwanted nude photo.

Living in Morningside Heights, I was attending Fordham University for my master’s degree in strategic communication. One night I was up late working when I received a Grindr message from him, a selfie. Amid his light brown hair, two-day scruff and meek gaze, his lacrosse T-shirt stood out to me the most. He looked like a sporty boy I would have crushed on in high school.

He followed up his photo with “Hello.”

Messages in my Grindr inbox tended to cut to the chase: “Down for now?” “Car sesh?” Men who contacted me because they fantasized about trans women made it difficult for me to feel seen as a person in general, let alone a person worthy of respect.

Although my interest was piqued by Jack’s picture, it was his gentleness that drew me in.

Our sporadic small talk was harmless, spanning two months. I brushed him off, but as I commuted to school and spent hours in the library, he was persistent.

“My sex drive is pretty low these days,” I wrote. “Give me a bit and I’ll hit you up.”

“OK.”

When I turned back to my studies, he added, “Just so you know, we can do non-sex things and hang out too. It would be fun.”

This became our pattern: he being distant enough to show interest without pressure, and me appreciating his laxity, given my demanding schoolwork. His ease led me to trust him, so we set up a day to meet.

The first afternoon Jack came over, he admired my bathtub and drank his cup of water with two hands. His poised demeanor in a beige wool peacoat and long scarf reminded me, in a good way, of John Bender in “The Breakfast Club.” In my bedroom, he fixated on my yellow Power Ranger figurines, noticing my framed academic award next to them on the windowsill.

“You went to SUNY Oneonta?” he said. “I went to SUNY Potsdam.”

I pictured my friends who also attended Potsdam eating in the same cafeteria as Jack, getting drunk at the same frat party. Suddenly, the person I’d seen as a stranger now fit into my world.

I imagined what the deer looked like from his dorm room window, roaming the grass at dawn. Or how he spent his day when the school canceled classes because of snow. Or where he would have gone if his parents were able to afford private school.

We sat on my bed, my back leaning against the wall. He slouched his head onto my hip and wrapped his arms around my waist. “This is weird,” I thought. Aside from sexual intimacy, my hookups were typically aromantic, absent of cuddling and expressions of affection.

I kissed him and rolled on top. I took off my shirt and he hugged me tight. His face dug into my chest as he said, “I like you. I think you’re really cool.”

Unsure how I actually felt, I said, “Oh. I think you’re really cool, too.”

The next time I saw Jack, he spent the night at my place. It was then, awake in bed at 4 a.m., that I realized I had never let a guy sleep over before. His heat warmed the bed, so I crept to the bathroom to cool off. I Snapchatted a disoriented selfie to my friends, my hair messy and eyes bloodshot.

“How do you guys do this sleepover thing?” I wrote. “I can’t sleep at all.”

Customarily, my flings with strange men were brief. The men did not take note of my bathtub or my educational history before sex, and they did not linger after.

I came back into bed, disturbed by the rumble of his snoring, but his sleeping face on my pillow struck me. For the first time, the thought of sharing a bed with a man did not come from pure imagination. I now had a real image for this fantasy; I could pretend Jack was my boyfriend, reach for his face and whisper “I love you, good night,” then fall asleep and meet him somewhere in his dream as if we had done this a hundred times before.

The next day, he flew off to see his family for the holidays and the first weeks of the new year.

“merry crimmus,” I texted.

“u too, babygirl,” he replied.

After our sleepover, I didn’t hear from him unless I initiated — an unexpected change. Instead of giving in to my insecurity that the sleepover meant little to him, and therefore I meant little, I imagined other scenarios: him asking me to sleep at his place, for a change, or spontaneously calling me while I’m in line for my morning coffee. But because I had presumed a sex-only expectation from the start, I shamed myself for developing feelings.

“miss u,” he texted one random morning.

“really?”

We stayed in touch and occasionally saw each other, weeks in between. On a hot morning, he snored behind me as I sat on the floor beside my bed, working on my final thesis. He put his hand up to my face, letting me know he was awake. With my eyes on the laptop screen, I took his hand and planted kisses in his palm, wallowing in these ordinary joys — the kind of affection I slowly grew comfortable displaying.

Longing to be more than casual with him, I sought a therapist to guide me through my growing feelings.

Jack’s periodic “miss u” texts progressed with heart emojis, an unprecedented closeness. And I returned the sentiment. It felt thrilling to express my adoration so directly, until the weeks between seeing each other and texting ultimately turned into months of silence I knew to be ghosting.

I relied on Grindr as my safe dock because dating as trans is complicated. Sleeping around was easier for me. I had set the bar low, then met Jack, who saw me as more than a fantasized body, only to have his mysterious exit echo a looming insecurity I avoided for years: Being trans implies I am not real enough to deserve decency.

I broke down in therapy, mustering the courage to say out loud what was undeniably true: “He left me.”

“I don’t mean to put this on you,” my therapist said, “but could him being a cis straight man and you being a trans woman play a part?”

I didn’t want to blame Jack, who showed me a new realm of affection that made desire feel as simple as just a boy and a girl who liked each other. But he made leaving simple, too; all of this could still not be enough.

Deep down, I denied how my mere existence as a trans woman could ever cost him. Jack, in wooing me, nurtured the possibility that my romantic fantasies could come true, that I could be seen as a complex person rather than a fetishized token of someone’s imagination. After being deserted by him, I ruminated on my insecurity that being trans denied me of even a simple goodbye.

And yet I know myself to be real because my transition, as a teenager, required exceptional certainty. Doctors and psychiatrists double-checked my decision constantly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I repeated, and I became more real each year. With Jack, I felt even realer. Not only had he seen me as a woman, but as a woman worthy of being held.

I could blame my being trans for Jack’s ghosting, but maybe it had nothing to do with that. Maybe he hated his job. Maybe his family fell apart. Maybe the pleasure we felt together contrasted whatever pain remained of our baggage.

On lonely days, I imagine myself at SUNY Potsdam. At a frat party, I drunkenly dance across from Jack, cheap blue lights grazing the curves of our cheekbones, sweat dripping like cyan fireflies. Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” roars through the party. “Good times never seemed so good,” everyone shouts. “I’ve been inclined to believe they never would.”

I put myself in the cafeteria, where Jack and I approach the salad bar at the same time. When he sees me, he steps back and says, “You go first,” with a grin so big I would need both hands to hold it.

———

Denny is a writer, actor and musician living in New York City.