#i did not consciously know why but i guess my subconscious was ON that shit

[plateauofmemories]

*Stares into the middle distance* Maybe Kingdom Hearts III necessitated the creation of khdr, not to expand upon Xehanort's character but to expand upon Eraqus's.

Seriously, he's not, like, in KHIII a lot, but he definitely got some story beats he did NOT earn

[chiwrld]

hi everyone!! this is my first post on tumblr and I thought I’d share a vaunt I wrote a couple weeks ago regarding the void to help remind me that I am God and motivate me further to persist despite my 3D circumstances. I hope this helps someone who may be struggling with the I AM state and is constantly over complicating it the way I did!!

“Let’s get this shit straight: the void is not some entity outside of me. It is not something I can enter. It is ME. It is a state of which I am in my purest form. One in which I have no attachment or awareness of my physical reality. My tangible experience is just an add on, an extension to what is truly me at my core: my consciousness. And this “void state” is truly just me letting go and being one with myself without the physical component being present. It truly is that simple. So I am the “void.” I AM.

Also, do you know how many times I consciously manifest without much thought added onto it? Just this morning an affirmed my mom wouldn’t bother me about getting ready (because I was lazy) and she left me alone for a whole hour after she asked!! Later on I affirmed my grandmother was sleeping RIGHT before entering her room and guess what? Fast. Asleep. When I was speaking to my father today what did I decide? That I didn’t feel the usual anxiety I experience when speaking with him, AND?? That feeling in my chest disappeared within seconds.

My point is I AM a master manifestor. I always have been. Since I discovered LOA till now. A master never loses their spark and the minute I became aware of my power and that I am The Creator, I claimed said power as my own (because it is) and I will never go back. I know that every single experience I go through is a result of my internal states and that my tangible experiences are malleable due to being able to shift and occupy different states from the infinite that exist.

So then how can occupying the state of being a void master hard? Well, it isn’t. I mean at least it wasn’t for me. I began writing this for motivation but now that I really thinking about, I’m just beginning to realise how familiar and reachable the I AM state feels to me BECAUSE IT IS!! I have become freed from the shackles of putting the void on a pedestal, because it literally makes ZERO SENSE to idolise something as if it is a separate entity from yourself. It is not just a part of me, it IS me and I’ve finally accepted and digested such.

With that being said, this state is apart of me. Therefore, in order to become unaware of my physical surroundings I shall state and decide that I am no longer aware of such. Why? Because life is THAT easy when you have the knowledge of LOA on your side, it’s a loophole! From there I will make sure I am relaxed for a smoother experience. Because my 3D reality will inevitably conform to the state I have occupied in my imagination, I will keep in mind that it truly does not matter if I breathe. What I mean is, I guess I have this limiting belief that if I focus on my breathing as an attempt to relax and furthermore “enter” the void, I will still be aware of my physical body as a result. However, regardless of me focusing on my breathing or not, affirming to become unaware of my body will materialise into my tangible experience and will occur as a result of deciding and persisting.

Once I feel as though my grip on my physical reality is disappearing, I will affirm for the void. I think one of my other issues is that I affirm from a stage of lack when it comes to this stage. What I mean is, when I affirm that I am in the void I push myself to continue looping the affirmations in order to “enter” the void instead of a reminder that I HAVE entered it already, instead of accepting my statement as fact and feeling it real (AKA truly knowing that it is done)

I shall affirm until I’m satisfied. Until my subconscious has experienced pure conviction. Until I feel at content and at peace with what I’ve stated. Because forcing myself to continue would be operating from a state of lack and I never lack. It’s impossible in my reality. Therefore, it is impossible for me to think from such a place as well. Remember: fulfilling myself in imagination is the goal here. From there I will either allow myself to sleep in that state and wake up without 0 physical awareness or continue to relish in the feeling of achievement, contentment and utter peace with finally experiencing the void state before the 3D decides to catch up with me and has me experience it in my outer world.”

“Key points

Identifying my objective: experiencing the void

Deciding that I am the state of entering the void with ease

Relaxing my body + mind

Affirming that I no longer have any physical awareness + I AM

Fulfilling myself in imagination

DONE.”

Hope this helps anyone who may be overcomplicating pure consciousness or just needed a refresher as to what it truly is in essence + be reminded of their own limitless power. Vaunting is a great “method” too so I definitely recommend doing such instead of doomscrolling (you know yourselves…)

yours truly,

chi.

[the-solar-system52]

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. YOU'RE FUCKING KIDDING ME.

(screenshot of past theory)

(end screenshot)

WHAT THE SHIT. WHAT THE FUCK.

IM SCREAMING. IM SHAKING.

IM GOING INSANE. IM EXPLODING.

IM ABOUT TO FLATLINE AND DROP DEAD.

I AM A PROPHET. I PROPHECISE.

Okay my insane luck aside, this is EXTREMELY interesting.

It is obviously a reference to the Charlie Chaplin mirror maze from 'The Circus'.

We will also most likely have some Negative shenanigans in this maze. But there's one theory I've been thinking of for awhile that I want to talk about now.

Who owns the House of Lead?

The House of Lead is the House of Paint's equal. Madras used to own Paint House, but then gave it to Hero. Whomever owns the house is able to, subconsciously or consciously, change the houses shape and form with their mind.

When the House was first introduced, I assumed The Butterfly owned the Lead House, since they fled to it after RGB fought them off. But now I'm not so sure. The House did trap them and make the door vanish, but it's clear The Butterfly is hostile and wants to attack them. So if they were able to control the house, why wouldn't they just throw an imaginary weapon at them or something? As of right now, RGB and Hero are just wandering around the house freely. Plus, we haven't seen The Butterfly anywhere in the house yet, and they'd have to be able to see RGB and Hero to manipulate what they interact with.

So, what if, Negative owned the House of Lead?

I've mentioned before how I think the houses are suppose to be metaphors for Negative and RGB, plus they share a similar black and white design.

In this page, the staircase looks a lot like Negative's eye.

This also puts the events of this chapter in new context. We don't know a lot about Negative's personality or motivations, but I'll still do my best to analyse what this means.

I think Negative wants Hero to tell RGB about him.

First, he traps them in the house, which forces them to have downtime to talk. Then, Hero starts explaining about Negative. Then, the aforementioned staircase.

But then, RGB tries to move away from the conversation and move onto something else. The second he does, they appear in the very symbolic mirror maze. Which I'm guessing will force RGB to confront Negative.

Why he want him to know, I dunno, but it does make sense for Negative to be able to see what they are doing, since it's implied he has RGB's memories.

Though, if we think about the theory that The Butterfly created Negative, or is related to him is some other way, then these parallels would still make sense if The Butterfly was the owner.

Its hard to say when we know so little about both characters goals and motivations, but if I had to take a guess now, I'd say Negative owns the house, but we'll have to see.

ANYWAY AAAHAHAHHSKSPAKAMAKAAOSKKSSJ IM SO EXCITED OH MY GOD AOSKSSSPPAPAK

[arcplaysgames]

Yeah, what's with the formality, Lavenza, remember when I took you to a maid cafe and then defended you from the feral maid that wanted to eat you? We're pals now.

Congratulations to Lavenza for the greatest line read since Mitsuru's "I'M GOING TO EXECUTE YOU ALL." I fucking cackled.

Okay so. I'm flipping through these screencaps again in hopes of collating all the info and summarizing. Hang on.

Mementos is back. Why? Because don't worry about it. (The game basically shrugs on this one, lmao.)

Maruki has a persona and it is able to affect real people, not just cognitions. The power is called Actualization, and is basically him taking someone's desires and making them real by altering cognition.

It should be impossible for an individual to use their power like this on a massive scale, but the death of Yarblegarble left a power vacuum in Mementos, and Maruki slotted himself into place there. So he has godlike powers in the same way Yahtzee did.

Akechi points out that the Thieves had the masses' attention and worship, that's how they defeated Cuphead, so why did that influence shift to Maruki? Turns out Maruki has been consciously or not shifting the cognition of the Thieves through his therapizing, so subconsciously everyone wanted the easy out that Maruki was supplying. yeah sure whatever, that's not more of an ass pull than the Mementos thing

All this only became possible when the Cognitive World and the Real World merged in the finale. Now, the worlds are trying to separate, but Maruki is interferring. They need to finish separating, or the Cognitive World will supplant the Real World and there will be no escape from Maruki's control. We got about a month before things are set in stone.

Okay summing that up actually helped me grok wtf is going on, awesome.

Anyway, back into the Palace, and Sumire gets another persona awakening on top of her original one.

I mean good for her?

I'm really torn on Sumire. Like, as a plot catalyst she's fantastic. But she's been the weakest of the cast for the entire game and I still struggle to care about her outside how crunchy her situation is.

BIG SHRUG.

Blah blah, seems like Maruki has a bunch of data trunk lines running to Mementos, so we gotta go see wtf is up in there.

also i got to see Ann's bedroom/flat and oh my god that's so many clothes that's my nightmare. I mean its super cute but wow.

Good to know she's a Derse dreamer tho.

Her new persona pops and oh my god this is the most scene kid thing I have ever seen, WOW. the mismatched tights, the bubblegum, the double belt. I can hear Paramore playing when I look at this.

Also Lavenza visits Reverie and falls asleep TWICE in one visit. This girl needs a fucking nap, wow.

Anyway, plot. Mementos has a bunch of Maruki's data cables running through it. I do love the shift from fantastical science to the cold reality of surveillance in Maruki's methods.

BASICALLY its complicated, but Maruki is watching over Mementos. To give everyone the perfect life they want, he catches people in Mementos and changes their cognition from there. Without the surveillance, he wouldn't know who to help and how.

So I guess his perfect dream of just fixing the world is more complex than he thought. Sure, he has all of human cognition on tap here, but he still has to handle each case individually with the info he gleans from Mementos. There's still many people who don't have their happy psience yet and that is going to take time to fix.

I do appreciate a lack of subtlety. I hope the intention with Maruki is to inspire some discomfort and reflection in players as they contend with his motives and methods, but also, gamers can be dumb so yes, please just insert a room that looks like it'd fit in The Stanley Parable into this whole narrative to make sure people understand this whole thing is fucked.

Akechi as the repeated voice of "yo this shit sucks" is a lot of fun. When the guy who murdered a bunch of people for his evil dad is calling out your bullshit, that's worth paying attention to.

That said, this random NPC actually says the thesis of this entire story right here. It is here for those who are looking for it.

[storm-driver]

ep 19 : million dollar ghost feels like it's supposed to be the season finale, what with vlad being the main villain and him going after the key for pariah's keep. but the production order says this one goes first, so i guess that's what we're rolling with!

the fucking alarm going off in the school to announce there's a ghost on campus and jazz shouting "DANNY HIDE" only for danny to go ?????whY?? had me REELING. like he doesn't even care and jazz is hyperventilating on HIS behalf.

the main plot of the episode is always fun when vlad is involved. pinning a bounty on danny's head to fuck with him and his family is absolutely villainous and cruel. especially cause vlad is just out for blood while danny is only reacting to being hunted down. poor kid knows there's a target on his back, and i feel like if this show was written a few years later, he would've said "dude go to therapy" as a comeback.

there was one scene that seriously caught my eye. vlad essentially electrocutes danny to a point of almost losing consciousness and turning back to being human. but either danny, barely hanging on to being awake, stopped the transformation part way and kept himself as phantom. or vlad SOMEHOW STOPPED IT??? i'm going with the latter bc im p sure danny had no conscious control over that. especially because he's so drained afterwards that he can't even fight back when he gets tossed into the pile of ghost hunters. but that just makes me question HOW vlad did that. like that is another person's autonomy!!!! you just STOPPED IT BECAUSE YOU CAN???? HOW

jack fenton continues to be such a fantastic character. he's so bull-headed about being an expert on ghosts, it's leading to him fucking shit up by accident. he means well, but at least he's able to acknowledge when he's screwed up. it makes the scene with danny tryna cheer him up by "surrendering" as the ghost boy hit just a little harder. his son's opinion of him matters so much to him, that even the ghost boy presenting himself as free prey didnt get him out of a bad mood until maddie literally put the prize in his hands. she's by far the better ghost hunter between them, but she cares more about her husband's pride that she literally gives the credit to him for capturing the ghost boy. it's so sweet to watch, even though you have to subconsciously accept that they just put their son in a fucking vacuum and they have no idea he's in that tiny ass box.

also another example of danny's anatomy just being fucked because of ghost powers, bc how the fuck did he fit in that box otherwise.

anyway, danny convincing jack to let him out of the vacuum thing because he throws himself under the bus and essentially bashes his human self for constantly forgetting to do chores, including replacing the ectro-filtrator on the ghost portal, was fucking funny. david kaufman seriously needs more props for the absolute blunt line deliveries he does, because i am WHEEZING.

the episode has fun antics, but despite the bounty on danny's head, it doesn't actually put much on the serialization? yeah, they've established that danny is elusive and a ghost that a LOT of people have eyes on. he even calls himself public ghost enemy number one. but not much sticks. especially bc jack sorta just forgets about this temporary alliance he has with phantom in future episodes and goes back to shooting on sight. besides getting definitive proof that phantom is well-meaning and doesn't wanna cause havoc. still, fun episode, danny getting compressed into a box is hilarious.

yknow what I'm cataloging my feelings as i rewatch every danny phantom episode, here we go

[letterstodiana]

27/09/23 Therapy

Had my first therapy session today. Like my actual first-ever proper therapy, not the ones I've lied about going or faked as therapy to appease you. What was my reason for going? To be honest, as it came to 11AM, I found myself trying to back out of it, feelings of why am I doing this? Is this really gonna make you want me? Is this really going to help me achieve my goals? Can't I just fake it again, that I've gone to therapy and said I've changed? I really don't even know what you want from me, why you're trying to change something you don't want anymore. And then my phone rang. I admittably tried to back out at first, I told them that I'd call back in 5 minutes when I really didn't have a reason not to just start it then. But I called back. I do not know if she could sense that maybe I was trying to avoid the session because she did give me another out, telling me I could reschedule if I wanted to. But I didn't, I chose to stuck to it. No particular explanation as to why. So here's what I've learnt. Therapy isn't just about talking, it's kinda about listening as well. Listening to the questions that are asked back to me and answering them truthfully. Questions that kinda guide you to understand why you’re having these feelings. I always knew that the therapist will listen to you about your issues and validate you but I think what nobody really tells you about is how they help you unpack your shit and distill it outside of your echo chamber of thoughts. She asked me things like; is medicine what you truly want? are you willing to push yourself harder than you have before? how was your mood throughout the past year? do you know why you weren't scoring well? And I think I started getting a more vested interest in continuing when she asked me; what would you like to talk about more, your failed relationship or your life direction? I chose the latter just cause I wasn't ready to talk about it.

And before I knew it, my session was coming to a close. I didn't really expect much from the session when it began but I think what makes me want to do it again is based on two reasons:

She analysed everything and told me straight up what she thinks

She made me a checklist to do by the end of the week, even though our next appointment is on October 5th.

She said that she feels that I tend to repress my feelings a lot and that, ironically, I have trust issues § I don't disagree but I do feel that these trust issues stem from a bigger place, a more rooted fear of abandonment. Something that I really have never talked about much. She advised me to talk to my parents about how I'm feeling that I need to stop feeling like a disappointment and more like a son § I think with everything that happened, my life got thrown off course. When I told my dad about my dismissal, my feelings of anxiety were still bubbling in me and I felt I was making progress towards a better recovery. That I knew what the issue at hand was and what I needed to do, or felt I needed to do. And then you broke up with me and I kinda just really gave up on everything. So now I need to restart. I need to tell them how I'm actually feeling about everything, stop burying my shit deep down inside of me and also figure out my next step properly. We had a brief conversation about our relationship and she said that we had very destructive behaviours on each other and that our issues seemed to never be resolved because we both we're focussing on the wrong/opposite things § To be honest, I've always kinda had this in the back of my mind, that we are actually toxic for each other. We both are emotionally abusive, intentionally and unintentionally, consciously and subconsciously. I never really brought it up in fear that you might come to that realisation and not want to be in such a relationship but I guess you found that out on your own, before I could fix it and make us better. Maybe I should have been more vocal and we should have worked on it together. Shoulda, woulda, coulda bought a house.

She left me with a final parting gift, that I should see a psychiatrist because she feels that I've been depressed for a very long time and I've never really dealt with it. I guess it's time to get medicated.

[dzpenumbra]

3/28/23

Welp, sleep is still fucked. Got another 5 hours of sleep, more nightmares, about my family this time. Distance brings a clarity - both consciously and subconsciously - that... is haunting and upsetting, but helps put my life into perspective.

I'm sure this is actually a pretty common phenomenon I've encountered. Where you're raised in an unhealthy environment, but pretty much all of the people you end up around either have the same kind of family problems or "worse"? I don't know if that's the right way to put it. Like... there was this odd comfort... I guess sorta complacency... in that my family was "normal", or even "above par". And I would downplay, overlook and normalize so many extremely unhealthy behaviors since I saw those traits in other families as well. It makes me question whether I even... at a personal level... even found the ways I was treated "wrong" or "unfair". My memory doesn't really go back that far with clarity. Since I was branded the "rebel", I'm guessing I definitely did, and I likely made it very vocally clear that I did not approve of how things were being run. But that ended very quickly.

It just really depresses me, it takes the wind out of my sails. It makes the world around look so fucking dark. I see people yelling at dogs right in their face and scolding them for not doing anything wrong - which was a theme in the dream - and... children as well. I see people just being really... aggressive towards people they claim to appreciate and support, the second they don't get what they want. I see people using each other like objects constantly. I see zombie-like addicts everywhere. It overwhelms me, it makes it hard to look past.

Maybe I just keep looking in the wrong places, I guess. Or maybe when you walk into a room and there are 10 nice people and one gigantic tiger with blood dripping from its fangs, you... kinda remember the tiger and not the nice people. Unfortunately.

I keep getting distracted with tangential thoughts, I guess sleep deprivation is kinda fucking with me a bit. That hasn't happened since I used to get high and write. Speaking of... I'm thinking of taking my tincture tonight in a low dose to try to help with sleep. That said... the last time I got high before bed was with the tincture, and I woke up halfway through a sleep cycle and started freaking out because I was like... peaking. That's why I liked smoking, it lasts like half the duration, so if I don't get like... full sleep, I don't wake up and start freaking out because I'm still high. So... obviously I still have some hesitations. But for fuck's sake, it's literally the only thing I have and that shit was some of the best sleep I've ever gotten.

Anxiety. That's the big one. Depression is creeping up, yeah, it's there. But anxiety is fucking... it's getting me. And the big bad wolf, as I've said so many times... is the fear of Fear. The fear of Fear itself. I'm afraid that I'm going to get afraid and something bad is going to happen because of that. The extra layer is like an emotional feedback loop that stops me from even looking at what bad I think is going to happen. It's annoying as fuck. Like... sensation = fear, target of sensation = ...fear. Yep, confirmed that this is a bad thing, empirically accurate that this should be avoided. It's like a fucking cheat code for anxiety to get past my confirmation checks. And what big bad thing am I trying to prevent? Emotional distress, I guess? Reliving trauma? Waking nightmare kinda shit? That's about it. Like I'm not already going through that... XD

But my weed freakouts can really be that bad. They can really be that freaky. And I don't really have any viable tools for bringing myself out of them, and I have to ride them out alone, so... I ended up deciding not smoking while going through all the shit I'm going through was better than risking some horror movie-level freakout. My brain is really good at storytelling, I love stories, imagery, symbolism, stuff like that. That whole artist thing. When Phobos gets his hands on that steering wheel, it gets pretty fucking spooky pretty quick. I've had more than a few moments of feeling literal apocalyptic doom, both on a personal scale and a global scale. And that feeling... just gonna be brave enough to say... I'm not a fan, personally. Not my favorite way to spend a Tuesday morning at 8AM after 4 days of sleeping like shit.

I actually got to bed at a decent hour last night, and woke up... around 8. I journaled my dream (yay! <pats self on back>), noticed the light was... not afternoon light out my windows... tried to fall back asleep for a little bit but it just... wasn't really happening. So I just got up. After yoga and chilling for a bit, I ended up napping in the comfy chair for about 2 more hours, but I was still exhausted the rest of the day. So... skatepark got called off. BUT. I called the health center, and left a message with a receptionist for their supervisor for my doctor transfer, got the gears turning on that. I set up my power bill autopay. I learned how to edit the config files for the desire path mod and turned off the "path repair" function that I think was fucking up the path forming. I ordered a new mouse and keyboard because my mouse has been acting all fucky... that mouse is too damn small anyway and has been fucking up my right wrist for years now. And my keyboard is some cheap thing that came with a Dell PC back in like... I honestly don't know, it's so old that the keys and place where my right wrist touch the keyboard are glossy and smooth from erosion. At least 10 years old, I'd say. It was a good investment.

I washed my sheets and towels. I got groceries delivered. I took my recycling up to the second floor and took my trash out. I cooked a pizza. I did more desire path runs, up to 50 runs total now.

So even though it was a rough day and I was running on fumes, I got a ton done. And... I don't even feel good about it. Because I'm really depressed. -_-

My therapist said something really interesting, that I'm sure I've shared before, but it definitely bears repeating. All mental health disorders derive from a natural function that, when in order, is beneficial - anxiety, ocd, even schizotypal disorders and shit - but the one that serves no beneficial purpose from an evolutionary standpoint... is depression. Depression is just like you sucking the life out of yourself. It just beats you up, says cruel things to you and takes things away from you. Like a fucking schoolyard bully.

I want to treat myself. And... I did. I got ice cream, and snickers ice cream bars. I'm just...

Okay, I'm gonna level here. And I shared this with my sister-in-law and she like... kinda mocked me? A bit? Which was actually kinda rude and insensitive, but like... I guess she had a bad day at work or something, whatever. But I... have always had very good "metabolism". Whatever it was. Most likely trauma and stress and cigarettes and constantly tensing muscles and regularly unknowingly putting myself into ketosis through only eating one or two meals a day. A combination of all the above, most likely. But I've always been slender and somewhat toned. More on the underweight side, not a lot of muscle mass, but... yeah. Skinny. And now... ever since I got off meds and quit smoking? I've started to actually put on weight for the first time in my life, in my mid-30's. In my ass and my sides and stomach. (That's where my sister-in-law mocked me, like "oh boo hoo, some of us have struggled with that our entire lives..") And... I feel inept, honestly. It just completely blindsided me. Like the doctors weighed me when I was in the office a few months ago and I was just like... blown away at the number they said. I'm getting my core strength back which is good, but... to get back to the point of all this... for the first time in my life I'm actually trying to be very mindful of my diet. And my only real... vices... left are culinary vices. Sugar being the most vile of them all.

Let's be real here. When you look at it on paper, for someone who gets addicted to habits, but has no real problems breaking biophysical addictions (trust me, I've done my fair share of detoxing)... would it be worse or better for my indulgence of choice to be sugar rather than wine? In all honesty? I really don't know anymore. I just... struggle to drink without smokes to accompany it, honestly. Something about the really wet mouth-feel, and then the swaying buzz of smoking while drinking on a porch or a leaning against a wall or collapsing into a comfortable chair or something. That combination I really do miss. Drinking a cider and leaning against my handrail on my deck in the pitch dark at night, and smoking a cigarette and listening to the crickets chorus and the frogs croak. But it just doesn't hit the same without the smoke. And that... upsets me. Because... quitting smoking was one of my greatest uncelebrated accomplishments. It's been about a year and 4 months now.

So now, I have about 1/4 oz of weed that... if I smoke it... there's like a 65% chance I'm going to start spiraling into panic attacks. Alone, with no one to talk me down. I can get booze, but all booze does is make me want to smoke cigarettes. I can get cigarettes, but I smoked them for about 18 years and... I don't know, I think I feel better without them. And, given those choices? I've been going with fuckin ice cream, dogg. Chocolate chip cookies and chocolate milkshakes and vanilla sundaes and shit like that. In winter/early spring, my most difficult months, I have started to indulge in that regularly. But, if it makes it any better, by the time summer hits... I tend to be outdoors every single day exercising and lean towards eating much healthier.

So yeah, depression management has been tough. Video games are usually my go-to to scratch that itch, but... Valheim has been feeling a bit grindy. Minecraft is literally work, running back and forth, screenshotting, lining up screenshots, then tracing the paths... it's fucking work. Like, literally, it's an art project. Per Aspera... kinda took a backseat. It, too, got more grindy than fun, but I might revisit it. So... Session has come back out, and it scratched the itch a little bit today.

So, yeah... since I kicked some fuckin ass today, I'm going to get another ice cream bar, because fuck it. And I want to keep this sleep momentum, so I'm going to head to bed promptly. Fingers crossed for the skatepark tomorrow!

[hangovercurse]

Don’t Be Sorry

In which Y/N’s past catches up to her... and Colson

Reader x Colson Baker

Warnings: Abuse (Graphic), cursing, violence.

A/N: Seriously, it gets detailed. If you are uncomfortable with domestic abuse/ violence then this is not the fic for you. If you are a victim of abuse, there are resources available for you. The National Domestic Violence Support Hotline is 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). 

Word Count: 2352

masterlist

“To good music and good friends” Colson shouted over the noise of the crowd. The group raised their glasses in a toast before downing the shot. “Now let’s fuckin party!” 

It was your first time out in a while. You liked to pretend it was because you were too busy. I have a job outside of writing music with you, you would always remind the older boy. But truthfully, you weren’t as attached to the party scene as your friends and did whatever you could to avoid them. 

But when Colson asked, well begged, you to go out with them to celebrate finishing Hotel Diablo you couldn’t say no. Colson’s face when you said yes almost made you excited. Almost.

But now on the crowded rooftop of a club you’d never been to in an outfit that was all too tight and all too short, you wished you’d made up an excuse to stay home. Luckily your friends made you forget your unease. 

“Y/N, watch me drink both of these beers in 10 seconds!” Rook shouted, holding two bottles in his hands. You laughed, shaking your head slightly at his antics and pulling out your phone to time him. 

“Ok, go.” You said as he brought the bottles up to his mouth, chugging both in an astounding 9.75 seconds. “Dude that’s insane.” You showed him the timer and he cheered, dragging you to the bar. 

“I’m getting you a drink, whaddyu want?” Rook asked as he waved down the bartender. “Rum and coke?” He questioned, knowing your order by heart at this point.

“How’d you guess.” You asked with a smile on your face. 

“It’s a talent.” Rook laughed, arms flailing as he bowed dramatically. 

The pair of you got your drinks and returned to your group in the middle of the dance floor. When you got back Slim dramatically held out his hand for you to dance with him, and you guys jumped around to the music. 

The drink in your veins made you a little more comfortable. it wasn’t enough to get you into any trouble, just enough to loosen you up for a good time. As the group laughed at AJ’s terrible dance moves, you felt a chill come over the room. 

As the rest of your friends smiled and laughed, you looked around the dance floor, trying to find anything, or anyone, out of place. Unfortunately for you, you were much shorter than the men around you, so you couldn’t see much. 

Colson noticed you weren’t really with the group, and he followed your gaze around the room, leaning in close to you. “Everything ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, I just have this weird feeling.” 

He laughed, “drink too much?” 

You gave him a pointed look and then chuckled to signify you were joking. “No, I just, I don’t know how to explain it. I just have a bad feeling about something.” 

“Ok, well just don’t leave my side. I’ll keep you safe.” He winked at you and you rolled your eyes, but you appreciated the sincerity in his statement. 

Colson and you had been friends for years, but after your last relationship ended... roughly (to put it nicely), he let you stay at his place for a while until you got back on your feet. Since then you’d gotten closer to the tattooed man and come to trust him implicitly. 

You refocused on your friends, watching Pete and Baze racing pints of beers, with Baze winning (for obvious reasons). You laughed as Pete hung his head in shame. He scrunched his nose at you. “I don’t see you chugging anything.” 

This only made you laugh harder, “I don’t think what you were doing is considered “chugging.”” You made air quotes as he put on a mock hurt expression. 

“Y/N’s up next!” Slim shouted and your eyes went wide. 

“Oh hell no, man. I leave that shit up to you guys.” You smiled as he shook his head profusely. 

“Nope, you gotta do it. Rook’s already getting the beer.”

You hung your head, knowing there was no arguing with Slim. “Fine, but I’m gonna lose and then I’m gonna be mad. So if I’m mad, its your fault.” You shook your head as the boys howled. 

Rook came back with two beers in his hand, handing you one. “I’ll give you a head start.” Slim smiled.

“Fuck no, man.” You said before bringing the beer to your lips, chugging the drink. Slim was taken off guard and ended up starting a few seconds after you, which was all the advantage you needed. 

You raised your hands in victory as AJ picked you up in celebration, the boys cheering for you as Slim hung his head. Once you landed back on your feet, Rook threw his arm around your shoulders, “Y/N is the fuckin bomb.” 

You loved this feeling, you loved being surrounded by your friends who loved you. You giggled as he leaned into you, making you stumble under his weight. 

“Oh look, Y/Ns surrounded by all her little man-whores.” His voice sobered you up instantly and made every bone in your body tense up. You looked up to Colson for support, but he was already focused on the man behind you. 

“Not even gonna look at me, damn. You’re really that much of a bitch, huh? Not even gonna say hi?” His voice was like poison in your veins. Every word he spoke reminded you of the last time you saw him. You subconsciously reached up to your neck, rubbing your throat.

“Get the fuck away from her dude.” Colson said shortly. You tried to catch his eye. You wanted to beg him not to make a scene, to just take your hand and leave. But it was too late for that. 

“And who the fuck are you?” Jason, your ex-boyfriend, moved towards Colson and into your view. You flashed back to the night in his living room, his back facing you just like it was now, before he turned around and-

Luckily, Rook’s hand squeezing your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to look at him, his head cocked and his eyes questioning. You simply shook your head at him. You looked back to Colson who was seething. You caught Pete’s eye behind him and mouthed, we need to leave.

Pete nodded, grabbing Colson’s arm lightly, but the blond only shook off his friends grasp. 

“Hey, there’s this really cool music store down the street that’s still open, we should go check it out.” AJ said, his eyes trained on you. Thank god for AJ.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.” Pete said, “Colson let’s go check it out.” 

You could see Jason’s face change when he figured out who the blond man was. “Yeah, Colson, why don’t you take your bitch and get out of here.”

“Don’t fucking call her that.” Colson moved closer to him and your eyes widened in fear. 

“What? A bitch? That’s what she is, a slutty fucking bitch.” With every word, Jason moved closer to your friend until the two men were almost touching. Tears stung your eyes as you flashed back again. 

“You stupid fucking whore. Who the fuck do you think you are? Fucking around with some asshole rapper! Did you forget you fucking belong to me?”

His words still rang in your mind. You could feel your body begin to shut down, your lungs gasping for breath just like they had that day. 

You were brought back to reality by the screams of protest as Colson pushed your ex-boyfriend away from him, causing Jason’s fist to make contact with Colson’s jaw. 

“You think you can get away with making me look like an idiot? I’m your fucking boyfriend, not him.”

Jason’s fist made contact with your left cheek and your knees failed to hold you up. The man caught you before you hit the ground, leaning forward to pin you against the wall behind you. 

“Y/N, c’mon, let’s go.” Rook’s arm fell to the small of your back as he escorted you through the crowd, Slim following you. You made your way down the stairs, the two boys helping to support your weight. 

“I’m gonna make you remember who you belong to.” 

Jason pinned your arms above your head as he pressed you further into the wall. His free hand made its way up your chest to your throat. His soft grasp turned into a squeeze around your neck. 

“Jason please-”

You tried to talk, but few words could come out. You struggled for air as his eyes grew darker and darker. 

“You think you can go and fuck around with whoever you want, don’t you?”

You shook your head, but he continued.

“You’re a goddamn slut, and you need to learn your lesson.” 

Your vision began to blur.

“Y/N, you okay?” You came back to reality to find yourself in the alley between the club and the neighboring building. Slim was standing in front of you, Rook to your side as you leaned against the wall behind you. 

You shook your head in response and he let out a sigh. Suddenly the door slammed open and you flinched at the noise. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

You kneed Jason as a last resort before you lost consciousness, and now you were running through the house. You ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind you and pulling your phone from your pocket, not even noticing the new crack in the screen. You searched for the first name you could think of.

“Colson?”

“Colson, take a breath, man!” AJ yelled as he followed the tall blond man outside. 

Colson was pacing a few feet away from you as you tried to focus on breathing, your hand subconsciously reaching for your neck again, as if you were trying to pry his invisible hand off of you. 

Pete moved in front of you, taking in your state of fear. Other than Colson, Pete was the only one who had any idea about your ex. He didn’t know the whole story, only that it ended violently. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, keeping his distance as he leaned against the other wall across from you. 

You sniffled and wiped your face, nodding quickly as you realized most of your friends- save for Baze and Colson- were watching you. “Sorry guys- he’s just an ex. He’s kind of an asshole.” 

“Really kid? We couldn’t tell.” AJ tried to joke, and you cracked a small smile, trying to convince them you were ok. 

Your breathing started to slow, and you felt yourself coming down from your panicked state, until you caught Colson’s fist making contact with the wall of the club.  

“Open this fucking door bitch!”

Jason’s fists beat against the door- the only thing standing between you and him.

“He’s gonna kill me Cols. I’m so scared.”

Your sobs rang through the phone as the banging intensified. 

“He can’t save you now, bitch! Not such a big man now, are ya? Colson!”

“Colson!” Baze berated the blond man, who recoiled in pain. “Get your shit together, bro.” He said, quieter.

Colson looked up at his friend and then past him to meet your eyes. His blue orbs softened at the tears in yours. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, walking over to you. 

He leaned forward against the wall you already occupied, his arms above your head as his head drooped down to watch you. You looked up at him, your hand reaching up to touch his face where Jason had made contact. 

He flinched when your skin met his, causing you to jerk your hand back, afraid he would yell at you for hurting him. 

“It’s okay, I was just surprised is all.” He whispered before grabbing your hand and bringing it back up to his chin. You ran your fingers over the forming bruise lightly, another tear falling from your eyes. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered. “I didn’t think he’d- I didn’t know...” You trailed off, looking down and dropping your hand from Colson’s face. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He moved one hand to gently tilt your face up, leaning down to be closer to you, “Look at me. This was not your fault. Okay? You don’t need to be sorry for anything, babe. You did nothing wrong.” 

“I just- if I hadn’t called you that night-”

“You wouldn’t be here. Y/N if you hadn’t called me you could’ve been seriously hurt. He could’ve killed you.” 

You took a shaky breath in, sniffling. Colson sniffled too. “Y/N, this is nothing, okay? I would take a thousand more punches like this if it means that douchebag never comes near you again. I mean it. Don’t blame yourself for this, okay?” You nod, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck as you bury your head into his shoulder, your nose pressed against his neck. 

His arms wrapped around you and you could hear his sniffles in your ear as his lips pressed against your hair. “Thank you.” You mumble into his neck, pressing your lips against the hot skin. 

“Hey! Get the fuck out of here! This isn’t some fucking party you can photograph. Fuck off with your cameras!” Pete yelled, causing you to release Colson and look towards the commotion. You briefly see a figure in the distance before a white flash blinds you. 

“Fuckin paps.” Colson whispered, his arms still wrapped around your waist. 

“Let’s get outta here, guys.” Slim says, leading everyone back into the club to leave through the back door. Colson interlocked your hand with his as you stepped into the building, keeping you as close to him as possible as you squeezed your way through the crowd. 

Once you loaded yourselves into the van, you leaned your head on Colson’s shoulder, your hands still interlocked. “Can I stay at yours tonight?” You asked in a whisper. Colson simply pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand leaving yours to wrap around you and pull you closer to him.  

[forever-rogue]

hey, you're incredible and amazing and I hope you're taking care of yourself 🥺💖 if you are still taking request, can you write something for Frankie o Marcus Pike? from promt list 1, number 1 "a wedding?" and number 65 "hold my hand dammit, we gotta make this look convincing!"

love you 💖

I went with Frankie and I hope you enjoy 💕🥺

Frankie x Fem!Reader ; warnings: slight language

Frankie Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

You almost bowled Frankie over as you threw open the door and welcomed yourself into his house. You had knocked and at the loud pounding he had almost dropped what he was doing in order to come and answer. Instead of waiting, you'd used your spare key to his house and let yourself in.

"Oh, hello there," he said as he closed the door behind you with an amused grin on his face. As soon as he saw the distressed look on your face, his own faltered, "what's wrong, Bee?"

"Everything, Francisco!" you groaned as you opened the fridge to grab out a beer. You made quick work of opening it and taking a large swig before sitting down at the counter, "I have once again single handedly fucked myself over!"

"You want to elaborate a little more on that?" he asked as he helped himself to a drink and joined you. He'd been busy preparing everything for your weekly movie night, hadn't been expecting you for a little while - not that he ever minded you being around. Sighing heavily, you rested your head on his shoulder, "what could possibly be so bad?"

"You remember my ex - Brad?" Frankie immediately groaned - for reasons both the same and different to yours. You nodded in acknowledgment.

"Ew, Brad."

"Yup," you laid your head on the table before letting out a long sigh, "well Brad is getting married. And guess who is invited? Me - and my boyfriend."

"You don't...have a boyfriend," he reminded you as you just threw up your hands in exasperation, “so…”

“I know, I know, I know,” you groaned as you took another drink, “it just came out - here he is all fancy and getting married and I’m just...not. I didn’t want to look like a total idiot and be all oh yes, of course I’m still single but would love to come to your wedding alone. So...apparently I have a boyfriend. I need to find a fake boyfriend or find a damn good excuse for why my boyfriend couldn’t make it at the last minute.”

“Shit,” Frankie couldn’t help but laugh at your little dilemma as you groaned at yourself. You just couldn’t keep your big mouth shut it appeared. When had it ever done you any good? Never. You should have learned by now. A few beats of silence fell over the two of you before he suddenly made a small sound, “I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” you raised your eyebrows as your heart started to beat wildly in your chest. Sure, you might have been in love with your best friend and have been for some time, but you’d never ask him to do such a thing. You’d purposely pushed that thought to the back of your mind as quickly as it had bubbled up. It would make things infinitely more complicated - and what if something happened and you slipped up and confessed your love for him? That was a situation you’d rather avoid all together if possible. 

“Come with you,” he grinned, clearly proud of his brilliant idea. He wondered if you could hear the loud pounding of his own heart; as soon as you’d mentioned the idea of a fake boyfriend he’d grown excited. Was this his opportunity to finally come clean and tell all the ways in which he loved you? Maybe, maybe not. But if he didn’t try, he’d never know, “I’ll be your boyfriend - fake boyfriend.”

“Oh Frankie,” you couldn’t help but smile at the sweet look on his face. Gods, how could anyone not fall in love with him? But reason quickly took over you and you weakly shook your head, “no, it’s okay. I couldn’t ask you to do something like that.”

“I want to,” he insisted with a soft ruffle to your hair before he could stop himself, “come on - what are best friends for, Bee? Besides its just a wedding...”

“I don’t know...I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to..”

“I want to,” he promised softly, “come on, it’ll be fine - you might even have fun! Besides - I want to see you break out some more of those amazing dance moves!”

“Frankie…”

“What could go wrong, Honey Bee? It’s the perfect solution!

I could fall harder in love with you. I could confess my love to you. I could make a huge fool out of myself. I might never get over you. 

“Okay,” you agreed before you could stop yourself. The excited look on his face was enough to make you melt as he just grinned from ear to ear, “let’s do it.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Wow,” Frankie’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw you, his megawatt grin enough to make you melt. He held his hand out to you, ever the gentleman, which you took as he pulled you in for a hug. You’d agreed to meet at the venue, and go from there; it probably would have looked more convincing if you’d arrived together, but you weren’t sure if you could handle anything more than what was needed. As soon as you spotted him, your heart started doing flips in your stomach, “you look absolutely beautiful.”

“What about you, handsome?” you ran a hand through his dark locks, unsure if you were doing it out of your own volition or you were playing the part of doting girlfriend, “you clean up pretty well yourself.”

“Thanks,” he whispered softly as a tinge of pink flushed up into his cheeks. He politely greeted a few passersby. You repeated the action, remembering a few faces from when you had dated Brad a few years earlier, “hold my hand Bee - we have to make this look convincing!”

Something came over you and you were quite sure what possessed you, but you took his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together, before leaning over and offering him a kiss. He hesitated for a mere fraction of a second, unsure of how to respond, but then offered a simple, saccharine little kiss. 

And it was electric - sending shivers down your spine as your whole body warmed up. People always spoke about seeing those proverbial sparks when they kissed the one. And this...this had to be it. 

Opening your eyes, you found Frankie looking back at you in awe and momentarily wondered if he had felt the same thing. A gentle expression softened his features as he looked at you in wonder. Maybe...maybe you’d both felt it...but no. Surely not. You wouldn’t flatter yourself with the idea that Francisco Morales fancied you like you did him.

“Gotta act the part, right?” you teased nervously as you started pulling himself in the venue, “come on, boyfriend!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The rest of the ceremony was spent in comfortable silence as the two of you sat close to each other, but still leaving a small distance between your bodies. It was almost like the two of you could feel that something had shifted, even with the smallest of kisses. You were hyper-aware of his closeness to you the entire time, feeling his body heat radiate onto you, your entire being humming with excited, yet nervous energy. Little did you know that Frankie was feeling the exact same thing, all the while trying to figure out how to finally (finally!) tell you about his true feelings. 

His hand was resting on the wood of the aging bench, next to yours, but not touching. Both of you consciously, or subconsciously, kept inching your hands closer and closer until eventually they were touching. Frankie seemed to overcome his nerves and put his hand on top of yours before gently squeezing it as a sign of ressaurance, before lacing your fingers together. The smell gesture was enough to kickstart your heart and you were unable, or unwilling, to keep the smile off of your face. 

What was suddenly happening?

»»————-　♡　————-««

After the ceremony, a beautiful affair - even you had to admit - the two of you went to the reception, still buzzing happily, but unable to quite form the right words. Whatever was happening, it was coming fast, and honestly...it had been a long time coming for the both of you. Neither of you tried to fight it anymore, deciding to let whatever happened, happen. 

“Listen, Bee,” after you’d gotten to the reception and the bride and groom had cut the cake and had their first dance, Frankie finally gathered up the courage to speak. He reached for your hand and held it tightly, “there’s something I need to tell you -"

“Hey! You made it!” Brad wore a beaming grin he came over and still managed to steal Frankie's thunder; he tried not to let his expression falter too much, "you look great!"

"Wouldn't miss it," you said - only a small lie - before reaching down and grabbing Frankie's hand. Despite your initial hesitations, you were glad you came, and honestly happy for him, "and two make a lovely couple. I'm so happy for you both - really. You deserve it."

"As do the two of you," he grinned, grabbing Frankie's shoulder and giving it a squeeze, "the two of you! Can't say I'm surprised though...always thought the two of you had a little something going on. How long has it been official?"

"Oh umm…" you gave Frankie a look of surprise as you tried to think on your feet. He looked just as thrown off as you did, "a-a couple of years. We've been together for a...bit."

"Time to make an honest woman out of her, Morales!" Frankie's expression paled as your eyes widened in surprise. But he was quick on his feet and chuckled lightly, "I'm happy for you guys too. Who would have thought? I guess most of us did...anyway! Thank you both for coming and have fun - open bar!"

"Thanks," you both managed to weakly say as the groom bounced away to greet other guests. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turned to Frankie and offered him a meager smile.

"Yeah...so I guess the whole fake boyfriend thing worked!" you cheered lightly, trying to keep the situation from turning any more awkward than it was, "we could...probably just leave honestly. Maybe grab a pizza and drinks and watch a movie?"

"Do you want to dance?" he completely changed course with his question, his voice nervous and almost cracking in anticipation. You paused for a moment before deciding that yes...you really, really wanted to slow dance with Frankie.

"I'd love you to," you whispered gently as he took your hand and led you to the lightly illuminated dance floor. 

And it was so easy - so effortless. His arms wrapped around you and yours around him as you melted into his body. He was so soft and warm and smelled heavenly; why hadn't you ever done this before? It felt so...right. As you swayed to the music, everything seemed frozen in time and nothing mattered but this moment - him. This was where you were supposed to be the entire time. Home was in his arms, home was Frankie. 

After what seemed like a small eternity, you pulled back and looked at him, his eyes searching yours as well. He stopped and his hands found your face as he gently traced over your features, a smile gracing his own. You put your hands on his wrists, trying to control your breathing as you stared at each other, lost in your little world.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned up and kissed him. And this time it wasn't some quick or rushed brush of lips - no this was slow and meaningful, every feeling and emotion poured it. It just felt so perfect, so right, like the two of you had been doing this for ages and ages, not the first time. You wished it would never end, that you could spend an eternity wrapped up in his arms.

"I am so in love with you," he whispered against your lips when you finally pulled apart for a breath of air, "and I've been trying to figure out how to tell you for years."

"I...I love you, Frankie," you grinned at him, "its always been you...I just never knew how to say it. I was scared...nervous."

"Sweet Honey Bee," he stole another kiss, this one sweet and saccharine, "how could it be anyone but you?"

"Frankie…" his name was a soft, reverent whisper as you melted into his touch, "I don't even know what to say…"

"I'm hoping you'll say yes to getting out of here and getting a pizza and some beers and relaxing back at mine? Just like usual," he suggested as you nodded eagerly, "there's one more thing."

"Anything."

"I want to kiss you," he grinned, "like a lot more. I feel like an idiot for not doing that sooner.

"That's a guarantee, love," you promised him, "kisses and a lot more than that."

"God, you're amazing," he grinned as you started to pull him away and to the exit, "I wish I would have told you years ago."

"We were both fools," you admitted, "but think of all the time we have to make up for! And besides - you're always worth waiting for, Francisco!"

He was awestruck as he just stared at you before running after you and scooping you up in his arms and carrying you bridal style. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you grinned at him like a lovestruck fool - which, you supposed, you were.

"I love you, Honey Bee."

"I love you, Francisco."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[sebastianshaw]

Kinda random rambly ask:

So I know you have this running joke about Shaw having a bunch of kids out there because... Well, the man's a whore. And also I know that you, like me, reject duggans explanation of Shinobi's parentage (like anyone with good taste would tbh)

BUT

Why (in your view) is Shinobi actually in Shaw's life at all?

I tend to imagine his mum as middle class, not desperately in need of shaws money but aware that it would elevate Shinobi's life. And maybe she thought it was proper to give Shaw the option of being involved. But I don't like the idea of her asking him for money excessively because I'd imagine he'd never agree to that. (Also here at katatonicimpression industries, we don't let her be stereotyped no siree)

To me, I think, there was some novelty in having a kid to Shaw and also maybe the idea that if he was going to put even the bare minimum financially, he'd want to be present to some extent. Like, getting his moneys worth out of this kid.

What do you think?

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS ASLEEP FOR HOURS I absolutely 100% agree that Shaw isn't going to give Mama any more than what he views as necessary for supporting Shinobi, and like you said, he's going to be determined to get his money's worth out of him. No way he's going to be ok with just supporting his son because he's HIS SON and he's the one who helped bring him into the world. He absolutely wants to sculpt Shinobi into a worthy heir. Because while Shaw's got approximately 8 million bastards in my mind, I headcanon that Shinobi was the first of Shaw's innumerable spawn, quite possibly the only one that he knew of at that time. And at that time, Shaw had absolutely no reason to think he'd ever be living forever. And Shaw might not be interested in leaving any inheritance to his little shits, but I think the idea of his company crumbling after his death, or passing to hands he didn't choose himself, bothered him. He's a very rational-minded man so I think consciously he would say that it doesn't matter what happens to Shaw Industries when he dies, that if he can't take it with him there's no logical point in making sure it continues to prosper, he doesn't care about a last legacy, that's irrational emotional claptrap. . . but I think subconsciously, he does care. That business empire is his REAL baby. So he wants someone to take care of it, and no one is good enough to do it in his mind, so he figures, someone he trains for it from the ground up is the best option. And who better than his own flesh and blood, someone literally a part of him? Since I think Shaw does want Shinobi to be an extension of himself, and is upset when he’s not.  But of course, Shinobi was never "good enough" for them to ever get to that. It was, however, likely Shaw's intention, and part of why he was so pissed that Shin wasn't living up to all his stupid expectations and standards of how Shinobi should be. So he was like "alright too bad for my company when I die I guess, I'll just pick a really competent board member" and split. Because damn, if a kid isn't industrial mogul material before puberty, it's clearly never gonna happen! And I like to think/hope he didn't try this again with any future spawn, because god almighty we do not need more kids going through this trauma. Also, never thought of this before, but came to my mind at the word "novelty" . . .ok, this is a reach, but maybe at the time, Shaw was actually somewhat interested in doing right by Miyu and his son and even in having a kid for its own emotional sake. I know that's fucking WILD to contemplate, believe me I'm reeling back myself as I type, but Shaw's theme is someone who keeps getting worse, which therefore means at some point he was better (as we've talked about) and like. . .this was before we met him as the full asshole he is when he's introduced, probably before Lourdes died, it's possible at that point he was still going to try to form a human connection or two, like he did with her and Harry, maybe try to recreate what he and Jacob once had. He was just really bad at it. Which is sympathetic up UNTIL the point he starts smacking Shinobi around and emotionally abusing him. But I think even if we go with this option, it was still a mostly pragmatic thing. Honestly, probably a mix of all of the above, I find it realistic when people tend to have multiple motives for something, especially ones they're consciously aware of AND ones they're not.

[batarella]

3 birds 1 stone - BLUE

From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

WORDS: 7785 WARNINGS: Sexual Content

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

Dick:

It was concerning how at the moment he stepped into the narrow elevator, he wasn’t the least bit surprised at the pile of animal shit at the corner. It wasn’t until the doors closed when he noticed it, or rather his nose did, and he had to clog his nostrils just so he doesn’t pass out on the floor.

“Gar!?” he yelled just as the doors opened. No one was there, save for Raven with a book sitting at the couch. She didn’t glance at him. “Gar, I swear if you took a shit in the elevato-“

“That wasn’t me!”

Gar’s voice came from the kitchen, panting and occupied with something unruly. Then he heard plates falling to the floor, breaking, then there was a whimper. Not one that came from a human.

“Then who was it!?”

His question was soon answered, when a dog, a brown-furred mutt, sprinted out into the living room with a strip of bacon lodged in its teeth. “Gar!”

“I told you!”

Gar came out of the kitchen with a leash that had been ripped. “It wasn’t me!”

“You brought a dog into the tower?!”

“It was hungry!”

The mutt had finished off the bacon and headed straight for Raven’s lap. She gave it a scratch under its ear.

“Not on the couch,” Dick said.

“But Dick-“

“You’re not allowed on the couch either,” he told Gar. The boy murmured something Dick couldn’t hear, and after a second, no longer was he a boy but a green parrot. It squealed against Dick’s ear before it flew to Raven’s book.

“Jesus-“ he rubbed his ear. “I’m not in the mood.”

“SQUAWK-,” the parrot said. “WHAT’S UP WITH YOU?”

Having some coherent answer to that would only cement it as some grueling reminder. Hell, even thinking about it hurts more than the coward’s way out of pretending the past year never even happened. But then again, here he was, back in the Titan’s Tower to escape from the love of his life he could never be with and force himself into this infernal damnation of having forever to get over her. Here. Thousands of miles away. Where he’d only have his thoughts to battle and nothing else.

But all he said was: “Nothing.”

Dick should have told her, at least. Given her that kind of closure instead of his current disappearing act without so much as a note or a text or even a notice memo at the manor’s announcement board, which Alfred insisted with there being eight kids around.

But being away will be good. For her. For him. The first step to moving on. And with that, cutting all ties. Make it hurt less for both of them.

Maybe not all ties. He’ll have to go back to Gotham soon enough. But at least he was trying something. Not like the past five, six, seven years. God, has it really been that long?

She was probably over at Tim’s office, or Jason’s apartment doing whatever. Thinking about it won't do him any good. Doesn’t mean he subconsciously won’t.

It was apparent, and out into full consciousness, when he pulled out his phone and saw her name in five missed calls, with voice messages she’s left behind. A whole lot of minutes of them, too, it seems. She’d called while he was on the plane.

He could listen to them. Hear her voice one last time. Let his mind trail away. God, he was pathetic.

Dick put it up to his ear, his other hand stuffed to his pockets as he went out to the tower’s highest balcony so at least the air wasn’t so stuffy and he wouldn’t choke so much.

He wasn’t even nervous when he heard her speak. “Hey, Dick.”

A plane. A helicopter. Some folks over at the apartment building nearby partying it out. At least he’d have something to look at. He was exhausted, too. It was eight am over at Gotham. Shouldn’t have taken the overnight flight.

“You weren’t at the manor. I tried calling there first. I wanted to see you. Call me when you get this?”

He might. After he listens to the four other messages she’d left behind.

“Hey. I know it’s only been an hour. But please call me.”

Another one.

“Dick, where are you? I hope you didn’t change your phone. or I’ll look stupid leaving all these messages behind, which I’m not about to stop doing. Call me. Please. No one knows where you are but no one’s panicking either. It’s worrying me.”

Next one. From another hour after. He’d been gone a little over ten hours since he left. If Bruce didn’t have a tracker on him, they’d have called the police by now. But he highly doubted Bruce would take the time to announce his little trip to the West Coast to everyone in the house.

“Dick, if this is you ignoring me, you’re doing a hell of a good job at it. Did I do something?”

He heard her huff over the phone. No one else seemed to be around her.

“Please, I just wanna talk. Call me.”

The last one. Sent just four hours ago, which meant she’d been awake at four in the morning.

And, on top of that, the last one was five whole minutes long.

A call to tell her she was dating Tim again? Explaining how there are no hard feelings? Catch a movie sometime? An ass of him to think she’d be that cruel, but he was jetlagged and exhausted and the smell of dog shit still hadn’t left, which could be explained because that mutt had made a home just a few feet away from where he stood.

Dick played the message despite all that. Even if she called to tell him she’s getting married. He’d answer it.

“Dick…”

He could hear the rain, sheets shuffling under her feet.

“I’m sorry…” she said. “I… I probably took too long… I guess, if you’re ignoring me, you still deserve to know. I hope you get this message. I’ll tell you now, I guess. So you won't have to respond if you don’t want to.”

Tears. He could hear her wipe them off her skin.

“I kept you waiting for… I wanna say months but it’s a lot longer than that. Years… God, and I didn’t even see it… I took too long trying to figure this all out for myself, and you just kept waiting for me. No one should be worth waiting for that long.”

He was laughing as if it were one of her god-awful jokes. Funnily enough, it was worth it. Even when it sent him nowhere in the end. All that waiting was worth it. Somehow.

“Which is why I don’t blame you. Because you shouldn’t have taken this long. I thought even if I took another few weeks before I’d have enough courage to finally ask you to be mine, you’d still be there waiting for me. Selfish as it is, but I guess that’s your fault, too. Spoiling me and whatnot. Now my expectations for men are out of hand. Sorry.”

She even fucking laughed all the while he could hear her biting back her sobs. If he were there, he’d hold her by the shoulders and squeeze the fucking sense back into her and tell her yes, I did wait for you, and I’d wait for you for a hundred more years if I had to but I know you love someone else and-

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Backtrack.

What the hell did she just say!?

“I mean, I’m…” she continued, completely ignoring his panic. Was there a rewind on this thing??? “The past two days all I did was read your letter. Over and over again, trying to find something I could have missed. I memorized it by now. I’m a wreck. I’m sorry. I know it’s all so complicated, but I can't stop thinking that if the timing had just been good to us the past few years, all this would have been so different.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT, is she actually saying she-

“I’m so sorry, Dick…” she sighed. “I kept you waiting. But even if… even if you’re not anymore, I already made up my mind. I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love yo-“

Something hit the back of his knees.

Which, unfortunately, with him not in some defensive stance, caught him in a rather vulnerable position.

And with that, Dick tumbled off his feet, almost fell off the railing, and failed to catch his phone from slipping right off his hands.

“NO!”

“DOWN BOY-SQUAWK!” Gar the parrot cried and followed the obnoxiously unruly dog running around the terrace. “SORRY, DICK!”

The dog kept running around and almost crashed to his feet twice with it being too fast even for Gar's supposedly swift wings, and if he wasn’t so frozen and horrified, watching his phone descend from almost a hundred stories above ground, he would have grabbed that mutt by the neck.

“GAR, I SWEAR TO GOD-“

“I’m sorry!” He turned back into a human and caught the dog. “It was him!”

“My fucking phone just fell over the railing!”

“Want me to go get it-“

A car alarm. He could hear it even from above. Or Gar did. Because he went to look over and caught sight of his phone breaking a car’s windshield below. He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“I have to…” Dick pulled on his scalp. “I have to go call her.”

“Call who?!”

“Give me your phone!”

“I don’t have a phone!”

“Give me Raven’s phone!”

“She talks to people with her mind,” Gar twirled his finger against his temple. “She doesn’t need a phone!”

“Just get- UGH!”

He stormed back into the building. “Where the hell is everyone else!?”

“They’re all out of town!”

“So it’s just you and Raven in here?! Without adult supervision!?”

“Why do you think we got a dog into the building?!”

Said dog stuck his tongue out at him like it was just so awfully adorable.

“Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok.” He can do this. He can calm down. “I have to go back. Or call her at least.”

“You’re going back to Gotham now?!”

She said she’ll wait. But to hell with keeping her waiting. “Yes. I do. I’m going back now. As soon as I can call her and tell her I’m on my way-“

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Raven didn’t even look up from her book, legs up on the couch as seemingly relaxed as if the whole wreck of a home they lived in wasn’t a mess at all.

“Next flight to Gotham’s in an hour.” She levitated an apple to her mouth and took a bite. “And the one after that’s in two days.”

“Two days!?”

“Airline shutdown. Some strike is happening,” she pointed at the TV playing the news. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

“God fucking dammit-“

“Good luck.” Raven took another bite.

Of course. Of course, this would fucking happen.

But, fuck, he didn’t know if he should just leap out the window to keep up now that everything he’s ever wished for had finally come to be. Because, to his own beliefs up in the clouds, he could probably fly with just the flap of his measly arms.

Y/N chose him.

He left for the elevator, just before Gar stopped him for leaving his wallet, then he was sprinting his way back to the airport.

.

You:

“I already made up my mind,” you said to your phone as if there were anyone else on the other line. As if he was there, listening to you. And that in a few seconds, he’d respond.

“I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love you, Dick.”

Quite haunting how easy it was for those words to just roll off your lips, because as much as you thought all this to be so complicated and difficult, it was the easiest thing you’ve ever had to say.

At four am, alone in your studio with all your lights off and your sheets in an unkempt mess. You stuck your knees so close to your chest, trying to conceal at least some kind of warmth against you. But even with it so easy, it didn’t mean it wasn’t hurting.

“I can't,” you stuck your palm to your forehead. “I know things are so hard between us… and this past year is just…”

You breathed, longer than you’d hoped, just to get enough air into your lungs just so you wouldn’t collapse.

“God, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore. It all just… It feels like it’s too late. Everything went so wrong between us and I can't stop but think maybe it’s the world saying we’re just not meant to be,” you swallowed. “And the scary thing is… I don’t even care.”

The blue rose you painted, staring back at you once so bright, but as the passing days of you still wondering if were brave enough to do this at all, it had dried up and was now blank, patronizing even, that maybe it just wasn’t right, even when you wanted it to be.

“I don’t care if it’s so complicated, I want you…”

On the bed, just by your feet, you locked your eyes onto Dick’s beautiful handwriting, some that had been smudged with the sweat from your hands with the paper now crumpled up after all those months of reading and rereading.

You closed your eyes.

“You sent me an awfully painful, heart-breaking letter,” you said. “This is my awfully painful, heart-breaking reply.”

.

‘I usually just say all this in my head. That’s when I get poetic. Sometimes I write it down. Most of the time, I try to paint them. I think of galaxies and meadows and skies and flowers and all that, metaphors as they are, but I’ll say everything I’ve got. Right now. Because you deserve to know that all those years of you thinking nothing could ever go how you wanted, that it could end being just that.

.

Dick:

“Hey.”

Hands on the counter, the attendant looked startled at the least.

“I need a ticket for the next flight to Gotham.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, after taking a while to look at Dick’s handsome yet frantically uneasy face. “You just missed it-“

“I know, I know, I missed the last one.” The one that left just five minutes ago because of fucking California traffic. “But I need to get on the next one. Please.”

“All flights from San Francisco after the next hour are canceled I’m afraid.”

“Any connecting flights? Anything that leaves before that?”

“Sir, I-” she stretched her fingers. “I’ll look for something.”

His fingers, tapping onto the counter until the tip of his nails started to hurt.

“The best option’s a connecting flight to Denver, then to New York.”

“New York!?”

“Then there’s the railway transits to Gotham. I can book you a ticket for that, too.”

From a seven-hour flight to a seventeen-hour trip with layovers and a crowded train.

But as soon as he heard best option he pulled out his wallet quicker than when they told him his rent was three months overdue and that if he weren’t to pay the doorman that very instant they’d evict him.

He rushed to the first plane, closed his eyes, and prayed she hadn’t said anything in her voice message too important for him to miss out on.

.

‘The universe, or whatever it is out there that has a say in all this, they didn’t make it easy for us at all. If they did, we would have met long before we went too far into this mess. We were friends, sure, and you have no idea how much I value our friendship.

But I guess not even that friendship’s strong enough for us to deny what’s really going on. And that’s why it’s all so hard. I can't even look at you without thinking about kissing you, or holding you, or touching you. I can't hold your hand without wanting to never pull away. I can't even be in the same room with you and not stare, even when you’re just reading a book or talking to someone else. You are… you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and you’re just as beautiful within, which is why it was so easy to love you, and so hard to keep it in.’

.

You:

Morning. Eleven am at that. You slept before the sun was up, at least. But you were up all night.

Nothing. Not a call, not even a text from him.

Everything shattered, and you were still half asleep. The next thing you did, and the next thing to do, was wrap yourself up with the thickest layer of your blanket and hide in the dark, even with it such a lovely day.

Another message wouldn’t be such a good idea if he still hadn’t opened the last five, which seemed highly unlikely with him gone for almost a day now.

A day. It had been a day.

But nothing on GCPD’s notices reported a missing person’s file of an utterly gorgeous, half-Romani hunk of a man in any of their websites. You called the manor, again. Still, there was nothing.

Twelve at noon. All you had for lunch was a bagel from three nights ago. It stuffed you, at least.

You sat at your dining table and stared at your phone.

If there was a moment for so much love to come crashing at once, it would all have been too great for that to be possible.

But the moment you realized it was there at all,

A few weeks ago. Steph’s birthday.

A party at the manor. It wasn’t much. Just a little get together with everyone at the parlor.

Everyone was talking, laughing, and frankly you wished you’d joined them. It looked like fun.

But instead, you were looking out the window, at the gardens white with melted snow and winds strong enough to knock the leaves out the branches. But you couldn’t hear any of that, which made it peaceful. It was the trees that danced, birds instead of planes that hovered over the sky, not a star above but perhaps it was because it was so full of clouds. It looked cold. Cold always looked so beautiful when you were looking out from the warmth of the inside.

Dick walked up to your side, just a reasonable distance away so he wouldn’t touch your shoulder, but close enough that you’d smell the jasmine from his neck.

“You’re just gonna stand out here and watch the glass fog up?”

You remembered laughing, probably at something else he’d said after that.

“It’s pretty when you look hard enough.”

And all the while, he didn’t pull your arm and drag you over at the crowd. He didn’t tell you to join them, to loosen up and have fun or have a drink or in any way stop you from what you were doing.

He just stood there and joined you, instead. Ditched his family. Didn’t even speak much.

He stood there because he wanted to. Because you staring out the window was more interesting to him than a whole crowd of kids doing whatever.

When he balled up his fist, covered it with his sleeve, and wiped the window right in front of you to rid it from the fog so you could see the gardens clearer, you knew you loved him.

Such a small act that was, but it was the finality of everything else that built up to that moment.

Then, you remembered what you told him last night, in a voice message that lasted way too long and sounded far too painful.

.

‘I don’t regret what I had with Tim… but I do regret not saying anything the past four years when I had the chance. You were there. You were there and I could never have had it any other way. When we’re not trying so hard for everything to be alright, everything’s at its best. I’m not even your girlfriend, and already I think about every minute I spend with you and laugh before I’m off to bed. I think about your jokes way too long than they should ever last. And your smile, god your smile, saying that that it’s all I could ever think about wouldn’t do it any justice. You have drawn out the ugliest laugh out of me that never should have come out of any human in existence. And frankly, I’m glad you do. Because just when I thought I could never smile again, you made me the happiest I could ever be.’

.

Dick:

Of all days. Of all times.

His survival rate at that point, rushing through Denver Airport with just a fifteen-minute layover period, with his shoelaces undone, probably wasn’t one he should have relied on. He was starving, but he had the appetite of a mammal in hibernation with the horrible airplane food costing a hundred dollars and everything else taking too long to prepare.

With just thirty seconds to spare, he fell to his too-narrow coach seat, shuffled along so his large ass-damn this cursed asset-would fit through the aisle and breathed just as the air hissed into the cabin after they closed the service door.

Head against the back of the seat, eyes up the ceiling, at the smoke that blew in through that gap outside the overhead locker, he ignored his dried skin, his dry mouth, his feet that were close to standing on a thousand knife tips, his eyes so close to just shutting out, his wallet painfully thin with this whole trip costing the equivalent of a round trip to Shanghai, and his whole body about to collapse. He hasn’t slept in twenty-four hours. It didn’t look like he was ever going to sleep at all.

And he hasn’t even called. God, what was she doing at home? Is she okay? Is she eating okay? Is she worried about him, staring at her phone wondering what she did wrong when she was nothing less of a perfect creation of all the gods that existed, an angel the earth didn’t deserve?

He really, really had to call.

Someone just sat next to him. A child. And next to him was his mother, who just put down her phone from a call.

“Excuse me.” Dick put on his award-winning smile, pretended he wasn’t sweating his balls off or that he was in any way close to psychological death, and hoped he looked the part as well.

“Yes?”

“Is it okay if I, uh, borrow your phone? I have to make a call. It’s sort of an emergency.”

“The plane’s about to take off.”

“It won't take long. I promise.”

He probably didn’t look as charming as he’d hoped. His hair was a mess not even a bird would settle into. The woman looked at him quizzically, up and down, and shrugged. Like it was handed to him on a silver plater, she gave him her phone.

The aircraft was about to take off. He only had so long.

He called Y/N’s number that he didn’t even know he memorized and settled back. It started ringing.

“MOM!”

The kid beside him. He was tugging on his mother’s shirt.

“MOM, I’M BORED.”

“We’re in a plane,-“

“I’M BORED. I WANNA PLAY ROBLOX-“

“Not now, we’re in a plane. Sit down.”

“GIVE ME YOUR PHONE-“

“That man has my phone.”

Fuck.

Y/N, fucking pick up.

“HEY, GIVE ME MY MOM’S PHONE BACK-“

“Kid, I hear ya. But you have to give me this one-“

“GIVE ME THE PHONE-“

That kid, a chubby one not older than six, stood up from his chair and was wild enough to grab Dick’s hand away from holding the phone up his ear. If he weren’t so desperate, he would have let him have it.

But god almighty, he’s never been as desperate as a starving man in a desert.

“Kid. Just one minute.”

“NO, GIVE ME!”

The mother put on a sleeping mask and faced the other way.

“KID-“

“GIVE ME MY PHONE-“

Back and forth, both grabbing onto the phone and the kid having the strength he did not at all expect, they ended up wrestling it out in the cramped-up economy seats until the kid was screaming out his ears.

He’s never looked so ridiculous but jokes on everyone else if they thought he could care less.

“Excuse me.”

An attendant, bags under her eyes and giving both of them, not just the kid, a dirty look.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the other passengers have complained about the noise. I’m gonna have to ask you to take your seat.”

“NO!” the kid screamed.

“DID YOU JUST BITE ME!?” Dick cried out.

“GIVE ME THE PHONE!”

“I NEED TO CALL SOMEONE!”

Dick grabbed the phone off his hands, palm to the kid’s face to stop him from reaching out to his outstretched arm. “Don’t you have some kind of coloring book you can give him?”

The attendant smiled, albeit forcefully, and walked back over to the back of the cabin. The kid did not stop trying to grab it off Dick’s arm.

She gave the kid a bag that probably had books and crayons and whatever stuffed inside. It looked so old. It had to have been in storage for the past ten years.

But as if some miracle heard him, the kid shut up, took the bag, and settled on his seat. Then he was as quiet as a mouse.

Fucking finally.

He held the phone up his ear and closed his eyes, fingers easing the tension on the nerve on his forehead.

“And sir?”

The attendant smiled at him. It didn’t look so much of a smile as it was a death threat.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to turn off your mobile device.”

To say he wanted to squeeze the life out of everyone in the whole aircraft, including himself, wouldn’t cut it.

And he didn’t even have it in him to protest.

“Hello?”

Her voice. At the other end of the line. That word was all there is to it, the only thing he heard.

Dick sighed, closed his eyes, counted to three, then ended the call after just two seconds.

The next thing he heard, for the next three hours, would be the screams of the child at his side, kicking on his seat like a fucking soccer ball.

.

‘That call from a year ago. The one about Kori. Fuck, I don’t even know where to begin. I overreacted. By a mile. Did some stupid shit to make up for that guilt and masked it over as another heartbreak when really, it was me refusing to have to go through all that again. I had to see you with that woman when I was in love with you for three years. Of course, it hurt. But I shouldn’t have an excuse. It was so stupid. Just thinking about it makes me want to break. I’m so sorry about that, Dick. I know we’ve already been over that months ago, but I just want to clear everything while I still can. God, I don’t even know if you’d listen to all this. I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I put all the blame on you when I had my share of mistakes. A whole lot of them. I’m sorry. I love you. And I’m sorry.’

.

You:

Hung up after two seconds. All you heard on the other end of the line was breathing and huffing, and nothing else. Whoever it was, they’ve been calling the past two minutes, just as you stepped out of the shower. And you almost cracked a rib flying from your bathroom to your kitchen table with just a towel around you, hoping to see his name on the screen. But alas, your luck just wasn’t at its peak.

You put your phone down, still with nothing to do, nothing else you could think of doing, than to just wait on that seat, stare at your phone, and hope Dick hadn’t hurt himself going after some goon alone the night before. Still no missing persons report. Nothing from the rest of the team, either.

Maybe just once more. You could call him. It wouldn’t annoy him too much. It had been hours since the last one.

You called, put the phone up your ear.

No ringing. It went straight to voice mail.

You opened your mouth, thinking you had something to say.

But you didn’t have anything to say. Not anymore. Not after you poured your whole heart out on the last one and now your throat was as dry as your palms were sweating.

You put your phone down, facing away from you, then you sank to your arms, burying your crumbling face away even with no one to see you.

.

‘That’s why I hate myself for not caring if this was difficult. Because I know, somehow, that’s it’s all still gonna be worth it. With you. Just thinking about the things we’d do, you’ve been the light of my life, the one person I look for not just because I need it, but because being with you makes so much of my day, every day that I see you. I look for you in crowds. I turn to your face when I want to look at something pleasant. I stare at doors, constantly hoping you’d be the one to walk in. I seek out for your voice, call you even when I know it’s a bother, find the most ridiculous excuses and the most stupid questions just so I’d have a reason to stand close to you, to have you talking to me, wanting all that everyday. I’ve never met anyone like you, Dick. I’ll never get used to you, and there’s no way in hell that I’d ever get tired of you. And maybe that’s the price to pay with all this being so hard. As complicated as it is, the troubles aren’t half the worth of the happiness it comes with.’

.

Two flights, three within the past thirty hours, jet-lagged far beyond a night’s repair, and his stomach in so many knots that even the bag of peanuts from the plane was too much to digest. And it wasn’t from poisoning or hunger or whatever it was. Everything in a whirlwind, one he can't even track.

He got to New York before it was dark, and he wanted to kiss the floor.

But he wasn’t at Gotham yet. This trip wasn’t over.

And if it weren’t for the half a million people crowded over at the airport, he would have been in Gotham right at that second.

Past the crowd, fumbling and running for whatever life he had left that wasn’t a spirit descended into something infinitely better than this, he made it over to the other side of the terminal, with his pits sweating his shirt off and his legs made of cooked chicken drumsticks and dough.

He got to the railway station, over at the attendant behind the counter.

“Excuse me,” he panted, and just like the one at the San Francisco airport, it startled her. Except now, there was no using his charm or his looks when he looked like he crawled out of a swamp.

“To Gotham,” he said.

“Ticket?”

He reached for his wallet, hands shaking so horribly it was worrying if he hadn’t known it came with his mind being as much of a mess as a wrecked ship from the 1800s.

And all the more did they tremble, down to his sorry knees, when he opened every flap there was on his wallet to find every pocket empty.

No.

No. no. no. no. no.

He searched his pockets. His jacket. His pants. His fucking shoes. If he had a hat he’d probably look into that too.

Nothing. Not a stub. A tiny stub that would have easily been blown by so much as a gust from a fan, let alone running a marathon in three airports in a single day.

“I,” he swallowed. “I seemed to have lost my ticket.”

Yeah. He wasn’t getting out of this one. The attendant looked at him and snarled like the annoyance he was.

“All the trains are sold out. And I’m afraid you can't board the train without a ticket.”

“Ma’am, I really, really, have to get to Gotham-“

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to step out of the line.”

Like every force in the universe was out to get him.

“Do you have a phone? A payphone at least? I really need to call someone-“

“Sir, please step out of the line.”

“Please, ma’am, there has to be some way you can squeeze me into one of those trains-“

The attendant waved at someone behind him.

Two security guards were at his side before he could even turn around.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” he huffed. “You guys don’t happen to have a phone I could use?”

Both guards ignored him, set him aside against a pillar.

And, with the excruciating exhaustion finally crashing into this one blow to the face, he stuck his back against the column, head up to the ceiling, then fell on his ass.

God, what does he even say to her after this?

If he actually gets to talk to her, that is.

“Final call for boarding!”

That light. One, single light. Or two, if he focused his eyes. The headlights from outside the revolving doors, from a bus that just opened its doors. It was a light, because it had GOTHAM in bold letters pasted onto its windshield.

And a line of people stepping inside. Kids and adults, old people alike.

He sat up from the floor, hungry, tired, and in pain.

But this was all going to be worth it. Every minute of this.

He just knew, that one last push, after this tormenting, inferno of a day, would all come to an end he’d dreamed about since he first laid eyes on her that day at the Wayne Manor’s library.

Dick got in line outside the bus, told the conductor he’d pay when they get inside. And after he did, he had just a quarter in his wallet to spare. No one sat beside him. The others were at the back. The one across was fast asleep. He couldn’t call her.

He’ll just have to hope, that whatever worries she had waiting for him to come up, that she’d forgive him enough for all this to end the way he hoped it would.

Three hours on a bus.

Didn’t even sound like it was remotely a long time.

The moment he took his seat, the bus doors hissed closed, and the air so silent, so did everything else calm.

He’s waited so long.

But he just had to wait for another three hours. In a bus. Then he’ll see her.

He closed his eyes.

.

‘I don’t even know why I rambled so much about all this being so complicated.

Because even if I had to walk up to the sky, I know there’s a galaxy waiting for me at the end. You are worth it. You are worth everything. I’ve never been so obsessed with anyone my whole life. You are, with my whole heart, my greatest love. And you are so beautiful that I never want to look at anything else ever again. And I never thought I’d get know beauty the way I do when I talk to you. You are everything I could ever want. And so much more.

And that pain, that hurt we both had to go through after all those years. That pining and waiting, and the heartbreak just because I was too stupid to understand that it didn’t have to be so hard after all, it doesn’t even matter, when at the end, I get to be with you.

I’d go through all that again if it means I can be with you.

You are the man I’ve dreamt about since I could first dream, and I’m lucky enough to have you in my reality. It’s you I want, Dick.

So I’ll wait for you. As long as I have to.

I love you so much.

Please, for the love of God, call me.’

.

You:

That message.

The longer you stared at your phone, the more you wondered if it was the right thing to do at all.

It was four am. You were tired. And worried.

And it was four am now, a whole day after.

Not a single call.

You’ve done it this time. You tripped at the finish line.

You were selfish enough to keep that man waiting for so long hoping he’d keep going, just as he had been for years.

And now, this is what you get.

You have yourself alone, in your apartment, one you haven’t cleaned in a week, and your heart in the same shatters as it often had been.

Your phone rang. You weren’t so excited to pick it up. Rightfully so when you saw it was just Bruce.

“Hello?” you said, your weight against the table’s surface, also surprised that it hadn’t broken.

“Y/N,” Bruce said. “I heard you were looking for Dick.”

“Mhm?”

“Sorry I haven’t called. Anyways, the last location I can point him to was at the Titans Tower in San Francisco.”

Okay.

You’ve had your heart broken before.

But it wasn’t just that that had broken right then.

Everything else, every bone, every bit of flesh there was, it was this numbing buzz you couldn’t even fight.

“What?”

Just then, someone knocked on your door.

And it wasn’t just a knock. They were pounding against the wood.

The ringing in your ears hadn’t even subsided, and you were breathless, muscles stiff. You just let the pounding go on until you heard Bruce hang up on the other line.

Life didn’t even give you so much as a second to process all that, of what he could be doing there, who he was with.

Your walked to the door, and without looking into the eyehole, you unlatched the lock and opened it.

Some glitch there was if all this were nothing but a simulation.

But it was as if the last five minutes-no-the last two days hadn’t happened at all.

Dick never looked like such a mess.

But, nonetheless, the way you stared at him was as if he was as beautiful as he ever was.

Everything that had broken, the moment you looked into his eyes, had fallen right back into place, into an entity far stronger than any quake could knock it out of.

Dick shut the door behind him.

He grabbed your face.

Then he kissed you. Without words. Without letting so much as a speck of time, however it worked now that it’d stopped, pass and waste away.

.

Dick:

Whatever she told him in that message he never got to hear, everything she ever had to say, the instant he felt her kiss him back, it was like every word flew out of her lips. How she wanted him. How she chose him. How in love she was with the mess of a human being he could be. How all the trials they’d been forced to go through, all the misunderstandings and the fights and the long months of this troubling, awkward place they wanted nothing more than to climb out of. He got all that with the way her lips molded so wanting and harsh, pressed so hard against his dried, chapped pair that have never witnessed anything more beautiful and so awfully perfect.

No more time to be wasted.

Not another second.

He had her. He finally had her.

He got the girl.

Not a chance that he wasted so much as another second.

He pushed her against the wall and the gasp that came out of her wasn’t at all out of pain, but at the sheer desire that had sparked at such impact that only knocked her into the same place he’d long settled in. And he could just feel, how much she wanted so badly to speak, to tell him what was raging in her head that was as much of a mess as his. But they’ll talk. Eventually. After.

All he wanted, right then, was to have her. Love her. Love her. To send her off to some paradise that long surpassed oceans and mirages and heavens that stood on clouds, to culminate that seemingly endless torture into a reward so great, that to say it would have been worth it would be so much an understatement. To play every instrument there was and let the song resonate into her body, and make it last for the rest of his life for so long as he could touch her. All that, he was going to give her tonight. Tonight. Right then and there.

Grabbing her legs up to his hips, her hands pinned to the wall above her head, it was too much of a flash for him to rush into this beautiful thing that shouldn’t be rushed at all. But he couldn’t slow down if it meant that he lives. Even if he died right after, he just couldn’t hold back.

He was pushing himself into her and the sounds that he earned out his lips were more than any songbird could cry out. After just having her against that wall, he finally got the sense to take it to the bed. It was dark. Not a light was on. And it was raining outside the one window she had near the bed and just the streetlight outside was enough to make him see her face. Dick placed her on top of his lap, on which she enjoyed herself to her own pace. Her hips were like waves, the ocean that rocked about, and the stain on his pants that she’d left behind was just as wet as so.

At that moment even she didn’t want to wait and talk any longer.

He took off her clothes, lied back.

Then he hoisted her up so the sweetest part of her body was just hovering over his mouth, her strong, beautiful legs, one of skin and the other of metal, on either sides of his head.

.

You:

You were made of gemstones. You were shimmering.

Of diamonds and rubies and emeralds, of the most precious rocks that could be found on every soil on earth.

Everything. That pain. That darkness. All the troubles and hardships, the disputes and every tear you’ve ever had to shed. Gone. Gone when he drew out this wonderful melody of sensations from his sweet, sweet tongue quivering you to every core. You were rocking, shaking, trembling, barely keeping yourself up. Not long after you screamed, and like the skies heard you it screamed back with a thunderous roar.

Then Dick shed his own clothes and moved inside you, rolling your hips with your two bodies now this one, beautiful entity, like you were holding his hand, just as you did right then, as you both ran through the darkness of a cave that has long haunted you, with creatures and bats and ghosts flying about, just to reach the end that was a light so close and so bright, you chased yourselves, chased that very light.

And once you reached it, that blinding, flashing white light that shone with this painful, glorious sting to every bit of your flesh, to say you found that end would be wrong. It wasn’t an end. It was this continuous, tantalizing aroma that would last a lifetime. It was beauty. You felt beauty. And it was in ripples you couldn’t see. A blur you couldn’t comprehend.

You had so much to tell him and ask him about.

But just as that wonderful night showed you, you had the rest of your life to do just that.

.

Epilogue

Dick:

Life could only ever be so cruel.

But life gives its niceties. Sometimes, to the people so used to it that they take it for granted.

But it’s even more so of a nicety when it’s the people who’ve long deserved it.

Not to say he deserved the world, but it was just that he’d gotten. From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

Watching her from his car’s driver seat, from where he had a perfect view of her looking at the wondrous scenes flash by outside the window. It was even more beautiful, more than ever before, now that he could take just a second off his time from the steering wheel just to kiss her.

Just a little over six months together. Never has there been anything so rewarding in his life. A rainbow, ten of them at least, that filled what was once this depressingly grey sky. He always knew it’d be worth the world. But even he surprised himself.

When they parked the car, got out into this wide, orange field, a farmland just outside of Jersey with a valley at the farthest end, the only thing that battled the brightness of her smile was the sun itself.

“It’s beautiful, Dick.”

Her voice, even more so.

He set up her canvas, all her paint, and her brushes. They found a spot on the grass that was clean enough for them both to sit on. She didn’t use her easel. Instead, they both laid on this plaid red and white sheet over the grassy soil, her using her own knees to hold it up. And Dick sat beside her, watching her as the hours ticked. Without looking away, no longer ashamed when she’d catch him.

Just before the last of the sun had set, he pulled out from his pocket a ring, one with a diamond a shape of a white rose on top.

He got it a week after they got together.

Her face, her lips wide open as she realized what came in front of her, then he asked her to be his. Forever.

She said yes, just as the sun fell.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

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[yikesharringrove]

Me and my thots

Read on ao3

-

Billy didn’t black out when the first limb clamped onto his side.

He figured he would.

Figured the searing pain would cause his brain to short.

But it didn’t.

He didn’t even drop when the next one hit, chomping into his other side.

He figures the adrenaline was keeping him going.

And probably the other-worldly strength from whatever bits of the creature was left in him.

All he knows is that the final one pierced his chest.

And he didn’t lose consciousness.

Not as he fell.

Not as Max hovered over him.

Not as he heard shouts, and felt hands pressing into his wounds.

He woke with a start.

He shook the dream out of his head, rolling to press both fists into his eyes.

He slid out from under the thick duvet, pulling it up and over the sleeping form of the person next to him.

Like he did every morning.

He scratched his chest, making his way over to their sunny little kitchen, getting the coffee going.

It’s been a while since he’s dreamed about the Mind Flayer.

In his thirty years since that night at the mall, he’s gotten enough therapy to break most of it down, to accept what happened to him, what he was forced without question to do.

He startled as arms slipped around his waist.

“You okay?”

Steve’s voice was sleep groggy, his chin hooked over Billy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy. I’m alright.”

Steve placed his hand over the faded scar on Billy’s chest, kissing his shoulder blade once.

Billy turned to look at him, taking in the sparse grey hairs Steve liked to complain about, the soft lines near his eyes.

Billy sucked in a gasp of air when he woke, spluttering as his lungs burned.

He was in the hospital, his heart monitor going haywire.

Nurses flooded the room, but Billy paid them no mind, his eyes locking on the big brown ones.

Steve had pushed himself against the wall, giving the nurses room to check him over.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the mall, just knows hat Steve’s face looks hurt, old bruises turning yellow and green as they healed.

He was stabilized, and he felt more steady. His breathing still hurt, but he was doing it on his own.

The few nurses made their way out once again.

“Jesus, Hargrove. Scared me half to death.” Steve didn’t sound scared. He sounded relieved. “I was almost asleep and then you took this giant breath, Christ.”

Steve’s hands were shaking as he lowered himself into a plastic chair facing Billy’s bed.

“Sorry.”

Billy’s voice was hoarse, and it hurt to talk.

“How long-?”

“A few weeks.” Then Steve’s face got hurt that same night.

It was odd looking at him.

He looked so young, not the face dream Billy was used to, the face of a grown man.

“Hargrove, you okay?”

And echo of that dream.

And boy did that hurt, the realization that it was a dream.

His idyllic life with Steve.

Nothing but his subconscious. Probably creating something to keep him calm while his body healed in a coma.

“Why you here?” Speaking still burned his throat. He wished he had some water.

Maybe even tea.

Steve usually makes him a nice chamomile tea when he’s sick. Puts some fresh lemon juice and honey in there. They have a lemon tea in the backyard.

He shook himself.

That was just a dream.

“Been worried about you, man.” Steve wasn’t looking at him.

Steve has trouble with eye contact.

Years spent with a father that forced it only to berate Steve for-

What the fuck. His daydream kept bleeding over, giving him all this nonsense about the dream version of Steve he had conjured up.

“Don’t know why.”

Steve looked at him then.

“Really pulled some shit, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean you, you deserve to die, or something. You weren’t in control.”

“Was that night I beat your face in.”

Steve looked away again.

“Water under the bridge.”

Steve once told him he doesn’t know what that expression means, just that he’s heard people use it in situations like this.

“You don’t even know what that means.” Billy couldn’t stop himself.

He just blurted it out.

And Steve gave him a funny look.

Because of course he does. Because this Steve, this real Steve is different than the coma fantasy one Billy conjured up.

“Well, no. But people usually say it like that, don’t they?”

And Billy just stared at him.

And then his vision went hazy around the edges, and he slipped back into darkness.

“Which one?”

Steve was holding up two pairs of swim trunks. Billy was just staring at his ass.

“You know I like those little green ones.”

Steve threw him a look over his shoulder.

“I don’t think the green ones even fit anymore.”

Steve sometimes got self conscious about himself. His thighs had thickened up considerably, his ass getting plumper too. And his belly was soft, doughy, and perfect for squishing.

But the green shorts fit, even though they were tight.

And Billy loved his older body, loved when Steve put on some extra fluff. A chubby Steve meant a happy Steve. And Billy would know.

You learn a lot about a person in thirty-some years.

Steve was dressed now, shouldering a bag.

“Beach time?” His eyes were bright.

“Beach time.”

They held hands as they walked.

The air smelled like ocean spray.

The beach was close to their little house, and they found their usual spot right away, far from any other beach patrons.

“Hargrove!”

Billy came to with a start, back in the cold hospital room, back with a younger Steve.

What the fuck was going on?

“Sorry, you kinda passed out. I thought you were slipping back under, or something.”

Steve looked sheepish.

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. Not totally.

Because Billy wanted to live in that fucking daydream for the rest of his goddamn life.

“Sorry, I should let you sleep. I mean you’re probably exhausted.” Steve stood up, gathering the few things he had with him, a water bottle, and empty coffee cup, and a book. An old worn out copy of The Outsiders.

That’s dream Steve’s favorite book. He reads it once every year. He said it was the first book he ever read in class that actually gripped him. The only one he actually took the time to push through his rampant dyslexia to read and understand.

He won’t be diagnosed dyslexic until he’s 23. He’ll feel really vindicated and Billy will take him out for a fancy dinner. They’ll go skinny dipping in the ocean after and Steve will whine the whole time.

Billy hadn’t realized he had been staring at Steve the whole time that all ran through his brain, not until Steve snapped his fingers in front of him.

“Billy!”

“Yeah, what? Sorry.”

“Are you okay? Should I get a nurse?”

“No, I just-” he tried to scrub a hand down his face, found his muscles screamed out at the movement of his muscles after who knows how long in that bed.

It didn’t matter anyway, as his hands were wrapped up in a mitten of bandages.

“Was havin’ a good dream.”

“What was it about?”

Billy couldn’t look at Steve. Couldn’t look at those big brown eyes, couldn’t search for the specks of gold, the streaks of green that he knows are there.

“Future. Dream future, I guess.”

“Do you-” Steve hesitated, and Billy finally looked at him, watched as he reached up to tug on a lock of hair near the crown of his head. A nervous tick he’s had since he was a kid. “Do you wanna share?”

“California. Little house by the beach. Slice of Heaven, really.”

“A wife?”

“Been married for a few years.”

“She pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

Steve smiled at him softly.

“Sorry you had to wake up to me, then.”

And that? That made Billy wanna tear out his own damn hair. Made him wanna pull Steve to lay on top of him the way they both like, pet through Steve’s hair, tell him how goddamn perfect you are, Sugar.

“It’s okay. Prefer your company.”

“I guess I’m alright if the alternative is being alone.”

“Cut that out.”

Steve blinked at him.

“We’ve been talking like, five minutes and all you’ve done is apologize and talk shit on yourself.”

“Sorry, I- it’s just a habit, I guess.” He was back to playing with his hair. Being a little rougher, tugging on the lock between his fingers a bit. Billy sighed as well as he could with his burning lungs.

“Just, I like it that you’re here, okay? I’d tell you to beat it if I wanted you gone.”

And Steve smiled at him.

One of his six real smiles, not one of the eleven fake ones.

Billy can tell.

Because the real ones make his nose scrunch a bit. They make his eyes go bright and his shoulders bunch up.

And he must’ve fallen back into that dream again, because suddenly he was looking at his Steve, his grown up Steve, giving him that exact same real smile as Billy ran wet fingers over his skin.

And he pulled Steve close to him in the shower, mouthing at the skin of his neck.

And if this was a dream, he was going to burn all of this into his memory.

The way Steve’s skin tastes, the way he gasps when Billy nibbles at his ear. The way Billy feels buried deep inside him, in the soft bed that they share, the one that took months to buy because Steve is weirdly picky about bedframes for no discernible reason.

And just as he was watching Steve’s face crumple, as he was trying to memorize the exact noises he makes as he cums, he was jolted out of his dream by the real Steve, fucking sneezing.

“Sorry.” He looked distressed. “You were like, really asleep and I, I tried to hold it back.”

“’S okay. Know you got that dust thing.”

Billy was drowsy. He felt like he was inches underwater, everything moving slowly around him. Almost like the world was a little muffled.

Turns out his last dose of pain meds had been administered while he was out.

“Wait, what dust thing?”

“Got that. You know. You’re allergic to dust. And peanuts. And cashews. And-the green ones.”

“Pistachios?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know that?”

“You told me. Nearly fuckin’ killed you first time we really made out. I had just eaten a PB and J. Sent you into anaphylaxis.”

Billy felt himself drifting, that perfect dreamland tugging him back.

And then there was a cold hand on his arm, shaking him gently.

“Billy, Billy don’t fall asleep. You gotta, Billy what the fuck? We haven’t made out. We, how do you know what I’m allergic to?”

But Billy was swallowed up by sleep once again.

He was laying next to Steve, stretched out on their bed, Steve’s head resting on his shoulder.

“Today was nice. Haven’t had a day like that in such a long time.”

“We should do it more often, then. Call outta work and hang out at the beach all day.”

Steve rolled a bit to glare playfully at Billy.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of setting our own hours, Mr. Boss Man.”

“Billy!”

And he was back, back to staring at the pale nervous face of Young Steve.

“Billy, you’re scaring me.”

Sunlight was beginning to haze through the meager window at the end of the hospital room. Billy hadn’t had any idea of time since he got here.

Steve looked like shit, like he hadn’t slept all night.

“Billy, I don’t know if you remember, everything you said before you fell asleep but-”

“I remember.”

Steve furrowed his brows.

“How do you know that? About, about my allergies. And yesterday, you said, you said I didn’t know what water under the bridge meant. And you said, that we m-made out.”

Billy sighed again, his lungs protesting the effort.

“My dream. The future. You’re the person. My person. And now it’s like, whatever Dream Billy knows about Dream Steve I know. And I figured I just, like, made all that shit up.”

Steve was studying his face.

“Okay, then let’s see if you’ve just had some lucky guesses. Tell me what else you know, and maybe it’s all wrong.”

And Billy didn’t really like the way Steve looked like he hoped is was all wrong. Like he didn’t wanna be tied to Billy in this way.

Billy narrowed his eyes.

“When you were fourteen you watched A Streetcar Named Desire with your mom and you credit Marlon Brando as your queer awakening.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, his mouth trembling.

“Your dad has smacked you once in your life, and it’s when you got the rejection letter from Indiana State. You hid the letter from him because you knew he’d be mad, but he found it and hit you and didn’t talk to you for nearly a month.”

Steve’s eyes were shining now.

“Your mom used to always talk about how much she wished you guys could have a better garden, but because it gets so cold here, she can’t grow anything. The house we have in the daydream has like, a huge fucking garden in it, by the way. I hate gardening but you love it.”

Steve stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room in front of Billy’s bed. Billy just kept going.

It was like everything was ready to burst out of him. To prove that he knows Steve, that he loves Steve. Even if this Steve is somehow different to Dream Steve.

“You go fucking batshit over corn on the cob, just with a little butter and salt on there. That’s somehow your favorite food. Because you’re the most Midwesterner to ever Midwestern, I guess. Your second favorite food is your grandmother’s lasagna. You keep trying to recreate her recipe and no matter how much I tell you it’s fucking delicious, you always get this little pout going and explain to me about how it’s not quite right. You only started smoking because-”

“That’s, I think that’s enough.”

Steve looked like a strong gust of wind would knock him right over.

“It true.?”

“It’s, it’s all true. In, in detail. I mean the, the letter, and my dad. I swore I was never gonna tell anyone about that.”

“It took you a few years. We were talking about my dad. How he treated me, and you admitted that. How sometimes you think about that one time and it makes you sad because that was my everyday-” Billy cut himself off.

Because fuck.

He forgot that Steve knows jack fucking all about Billy.

Which means Steve was currently giving him that look, that wide-eyed, nostrils flared, mouth tight look that he always did when he was angry on Billy’s behalf.

It was kinda hot.

“Excuse me?”

“Forgot my apparent psychic abilities were limited to just me knowing about you.”

“Billy, did your dad hit you?”

And Billy kinda saw no point in lying anymore.

“All the damn time.”

And Steve was back to pacing.

“Fuck. Fuck. That honestly, wow that explains a lot. I mean, yeah. I get it now. I get it.”

Billy let him mutter to himself.

Steve always does better thinking out loud.

“You know, I was actually fucking nervous to tell you, but now I don’t care. Your dad was one of the flayed.”

“Yeah, I know. Only person I never felt guilty about.”

“You’re handling this, like, scary well.”

“Technically, I’ve had thirty years of therapy. All this has been processed already.”

“Wait, your little dream is thirty years in the future?”

“About.”

“So we’re, like, fifty?”

“About.”

“How do I look?”

Billy barked a laugh, regretting it almost immediately as his whole body screamed in protest. He wheezed a few times before he felt like he could speak again.

“I think you’re hot, but you don’t handle aging well.”

“Oh, God. What’s the damage?”

“Not telling. You’re just gonna spend the next thirty years stressing more than you already would. But lemme tell you, first time you found a grey hair? That was the funniest day of my damn life. It was like being in a soap opera. You found it and then called our lawyer to begin drawing up a will. And you kept saying how you probably only have a few god years left in you. It was hilarious.”

“Glad to know you laugh at my pain.”

“It’s one grey hair. Plus you maintain good health, don’t worry. You’ve got plenty of time to whine over grey hairs.”

“At least I don’t go bald.”

“Nah. Full head of natural hair. Not even receding.”

Steve brushed a hand through his hair, dropping heavily back into the seat next to Billy’s bed.

“Man, this is too trippy. Like, from my end, we’re not even close, you know? But to you, we’ve been together for decades. That’s fucking wild.”

“Imagine how I feel. Am I some kind of psychic now, or is this all just fucking delusion?”

“I mean, you know too much shit about me for everything to be, like, a figment of your imagination. But what happens now? Like, if we don’t live out the future just like your daydream, is the world gonna fall apart? Or is that an alternate dimension? Like, if the Upside Down exists, there’s gotta be other worlds too. Is that one of them and maybe because you were infected by the Mind Flayer you have like, a link between both worlds?” Steve’s brows were furrowed, his eyes darting all over the ceiling as he thought out loud. “And, I mean, I’m confused. I don’t know what my feelings towards you are. Like, don’t get me wrong, there’s been interest since you showed up. But now you’re telling me in some reality, we’ve been together for thirty years, and obviously you know all this deep shit about me, so do we date? When you know me like the back of your hand and I barely know you at all? And are you technically fifty years old? Since you lived out that other life?”

Billy’s head was starting to hurt, and he felt tired again.

“Sugar, you think we could table this?”

Steve’s cheeks went red as his jaw clacked shut.

“Is that what you call me? Sugar?”

“Call you a lot ‘a stuff.”

“Uh, like, like what?”

“Sugar, Pretty Boy, Stevie, Baby, Sweet Thing, Honey. Mac n’ Steve comes to mind.” Steve smiled softly at the last one, his cheeks still warm. “Princess.” Steve opened his mouth, his brows furrowing, the blush spreading down his neck. “No sense in denying how much you like them. Those are tried and true. Thirty years of calling you all that. Plus a few others. But, you know. Those are mostly reserved for the bedroom.”

Steve’s eyes went huge again.

“Fuck. You probably know what I kinks I have better than I do.”

“Oh, we’ve done some exploring in our time.”

Steve bent forward to bury his face in his hands with an Oh, God.

“I don’t think I wanna know.”

“Trust me when I say, you enjoy most of it.”

“Oh, most. That’s great.”

“There’s some trial and error. But we’re good at laughing stuff off, you and me.”

And then Steve’s eyes went wide, and he sat up straight in his chair.

“Wait, you said. When I first asked about the dream, you said, you said married. We got-I mean, we can get married?”

“Yeah. And we like, make out in public and shit. Hold hands everywhere. We’re big saps.”

Steve took a shaky breath.

“So things get, they get better? For people like us?”

“Yeah, they do,” Billy kept his voice soft, felt like sharing this thread of hope should be kept intimate, quiet. And Steve’s face split into a wide grin.

“God, I can’t fucking wait. Just to be, not to be scared all the time. Of everyone finding out this big fucking secret. It just, is.” Steve huffed a laugh. “Can’t believe it. Two guys getting married. Was our wedding nice?”

“We had two. One in the courthouse, one with everybody.”

“Wow. I just can’t believe it-wait, who;s everybody?”

“Your gang of weirdos. Here.”

And Steve lips parted, and he made that cute little face he always does before he cries.

“They all come? Dustin and the Byers and everyone?”

“Robin officiates. Dustin cries really fuckin’ loudly.”

“And they’re all, they’re all fine with it?”

“Yep.”

“God. It’s all, you think it’s too good to be true?”

“Everything I know about you was right. Don’t see a reason why everything else would be wrong.”

“Then, where do we go from here? Like, do we try to follow your memories? Or, forge our own path? Will the fact that we know about this future automatically change it?”

Billy’s heart was doing something funny as Steve wondered aloud to himself about all this.

The fact that he was all in, dead set on having this happy future with Billy, when he didn’t even know Billy.

“Are you sure about this? If we do this? Or some form of it. I mean, I know fucking everything about you. And you don’t know me at all.”

“I know you well enough to see the good in you. I know you well enough to see that under all your big scary toughness you’re caring. And you’re kind. Although you’d probably rather be dead than admit it. And besides. If, in another reality, or in the future, or whatever, I pick you to spend my life with, obviously that means there’s something in you that makes me love you.”

Billy gawked at him.

His face was hot, no doubt bright fucking red.

Because, holy shit was that a lot.

And even Billy, used to Steve’s passionate little tangents after thirty dream-years worth, was taken aback by how quickly Steve was ready to jump into this.

And all of a sudden, Billy wanted nothing more than to reach out to Steve, to pull him close and kiss him until he couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Harrington, I’m gonna need you to come kiss me right the fuck now.”

And Steve smiled, his most sunshiney happy smile, and the chair legs scraped along the tiled floor as he got up, sitting carefully on the edge of Billy’s bed.

He leaned over him, cupping Billy’s cheek in his hand, and pressing the softest of sugar kisses to his lips.

Billy let his eyes flutter closed, and he put one hand bandaged on Steve’s lap, wanting to grasp at him, to pull him even closer.

But Steve wrapped his other hand as gently as possible around the thick bandages, pulling away slowly, studying Billy’s face.

“I never asked. Is this always how our first kiss went?”

And Billy tried to search his memory, tried to find the sweet first kiss.”

“I-I don’t remember.”

Steve sat back.

“What?”

“Our first kiss, from the memories. I don’t remember. It’s like, when I think of our first kiss, all I can think of is that one just now. The other one is gone.”

An ache settled in Billy’s chest at the prospect, at losing a perfect memory with Steve. Losing their first kiss.

“So, when we do something, it like, replaces the old memory?”

“I guess.”

“So, we can build new ones then. And like, you won’t have to go through your whole life twice. We can start closer to square one. Memories that’ll be ours, and not ones that I don’t know.”

And that’s true.

For the pain of every memory gone is a brand new one, one that Steve would remember and be a part of too.

“Then I’m not telling you anymore. If we’re gonna build the memories together, we can’t be working off of some, some blueprint. Things need to be ours.”

“Agreed. We’ll make it up as we go.” Steve hadn’t stopped smiling at Billy.

“Is it weird I’m gonna kinda miss seeing you all old? You’re a silver fucking fox.”

“Yes, Bill. That’s fucking weird.” Steve took his hand and pressed a kiss on his bandages, right over where his palm will be. “Just means you’ll have to watch me go through it all again, though.”

“God, that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Yeah? That get you going? The thought of me aging?”

“Nah, Pretty Boy. The thought of us aging together.”

“Wow. When you said we’re saps, you really meant it.”

Billy rolled his eyes, sighing as deeply as he could.

“Can it, Harrington. Or I’ll call the nurse and have you escorted out by security.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t. You’d miss me too much.” Steve pressed another kiss to his bandaged hand before sliding off the hospital bed, sitting back in this chair, scooting it as close as possible to the bed. He rested his elbows on the edge of Billy’s bed, and set his chin in his hands. “So, California, huh? When do we head out there?”

“Remember, like, twenty seconds ago when I said I wasn’t gonna say any more?”

Steve pushed his bottom lip out, making his eyes go big as he pouted at Billy.

“That doesn’t work on me anymore, Baby.” That was absolutely a lie. It worked on Billy nearly every time. But what’s he gonna do, reveal his weakness to Steve? Absolutely fucking not.

“C’mon, Bill. Just like, the year.”

“Nope. Not saying a damn thing.”

“Please?” Steve pouted some more.

“So odd to hear you begging outside of the bedroom.” Billy grinned with his tongue between his teeth as Steve dropped his little pouty face, his cheeks going red. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Sailing right past pleading and into petulant.

“Fine. I’ll just rot here until you decide to whisk me away to California. Better make it soon or else I may just die of boredom.”

“Jesus, so fucking dramatic. Didn’t we say we’re gonna make our own memories and shit? You can very well ask me to run away with you.”

“Maybe we should like, go on a date first. So I know you’re not a serial killer before I get in a car with you and drive out of state.”

“You’re so weird.” Steve made a snarky face at him. “But you better be planning our first date. I don’t wanna accidentally repeat the other one. Want us to have our own.”

And Billy felt that overwhelming sense of sadness at losing the memories of the other date, the perfect timid experience. Going to the diner and ordering to go, eating while sitting on the hood of Steve’s car overlooking the quarry, talking for hours and hours.

But he’ll get a new memory. One he’ll cherish just as much, maybe even more, knowing that Steve will cherish the memory too.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take out. Maybe just metaphorically speaking, as I don’t think you’re in any shape to be going out.”

“Ha ha, Shithead. Just make it nice. You’ve got a lot to live up to.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he sighed dramatically.

“If our whole relationship is just you holding me to the impossibly high standard of alternate reality me, then I want out now.”

“Relax. The standard’s not that high.”

 Steve made an indignant squawking sound.

Billy just laughed.

“I’m kidding. Just, you know. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble meeting the standard. I fell for you once. I can do it again.”

And Steve’s face went all soft again, and he curled forward to rest his head on Billy’s arm.

“Thirty years. Always thought I’d end up divorced. People tend to get sick of me.”

“Not me. Never got sick of you, never gonna get sick of you. You’re stuck with me.”

“Then you’re stuck with me too.”

[babygirl06301]

When Did Dean Fall In Love With Cas?

tl;dr: S11

I’ve wanted to talk about this since the show ended and the Spanish dub that broke Tumblr came out. So, when did Dean Winchester fall in love with Castiel?

This is entirely my opinion of course, and I know there are some people that will say it was right away or that it never happened at all, but I wanted to put my thoughts out there so other people could tell me their thoughts, too. I’ll probably get off on some tangents here and there, so feel free to send me any Destiel thoughts you’ve got.

Also, it’s worth noting that, to me, there’s a difference between falling in love and actually being in love. I mean, if you’ve fallen in love with someone, every point in your relationship has been a stepping stone to that point, so I guess it’s all abstract, but still. Hence, S11 being my answer to this question.

Keep in mind I’m doing this without the benefit of a recent rewatch, so I may miss some behaviors from Dean that would change a few things.

Warning: sappy stuff ahead; read at your own risk (also crappy images).

S4-5

I don’t think it’s that big of a secret that Dean attached himself to Cas, like, right away. I mean, the dude never talks about his emotions, and yet, it took eight episodes of Cas being around for Dean to break down in front of him and talk about his fears. It’s almost like you could say that’s because they were always meant to fall for each other.

However, I don’t really the think the process of falling in love with Cas had started yet. I do think that Dean cared about Cas, but I don’t think it was anything extremely special. Reason being: it was the literal end times and Dean didn’t have that type of time. That, and I think there’s something to be said for being raised a certain way and believing certain things about yourself that affects how long it takes for you to notice that something has changed. So, yeah. I don’t think Cas had been around long enough at this point for Dean to start feeling anything more than kinship with him.

That’s not to say, though, that Dean didn’t subconsciously find Cas hot or get the warm fuzzies sometimes because:

I mean, come on.

S6-7

So, this era is weird because I do think something had begun to change in how Dean saw Cas, but I don’t think he got to fully begin the process of falling in love with him because: a.) Cas betrayed them and b.) Sam’s head was broken.

I’m gonna say something rude now: I think a lot of the Destiel moments in the beginning of S6 were born of Dean needing Castiel’s abilities as an angel and not of needing Cas. For example, Dean calling on Cas to help with the Staff of Moses or with Soulless!Sam. He was usually pretty demanding and sometimes curt with Cas and got irritable when Cas couldn’t help.

However, I think that Cas always being there despite his battle in Heaven began to shift Dean’s feelings toward him. I do think this change was almost imperceptible, but you can see Dean showing more and more concern for Cas as S6 progresses. Like this:

This is the primary reason I think Dean got so defensive of Cas when Bobby and Sam started suggesting that Cas was working with Crowley. It’s also why he got so hurt when he found out that Bobby and Sam were right.

Here’s my super abstract and vague take on it: he’d started feeling romantic emotions for Cas, but as soon as Cas’s betrayal was revealed, it got replaced with pain. Basically, Dean almost started to fall for Cas in S6, and then the Purgatory storyline interrupted it.

And then Cas died. Which didn’t help.

Here we enter S7, which has fuck all for Destiel content beyond the first two episodes—until Cas comes back. I know some people are going to say not to gloss over the trench coat thing, and fair enough. I think the keeping of the trench coat was akin to Dean trying to hold onto what he did feel for Cas, obviously not consciously. Almost as though Dean could tell he’d lost something special when Cas died, and not just in losing Cas, but in losing part of himself, a part that he didn’t know existed yet. I don’t consider the trench coat to be a sign that Dean was falling in love with Cas but a sign that he was about to or that he could’ve. Is that weak? Whatever.

Now, I do think that some shit got shaken loose when Dean saw Cas again because, for all intents and purposes, he should’ve been pissed. But instead he was... whatever this is:

I still, more or less, think that he was too preoccupied with Sam to really begin falling in love with Cas. I think that’s clear to see in how he treated Cas after he came back into the story for the final battle with the Leviathan. He did give the whole “I’d rather have you” speech, but all the stuff before that was more along the lines of “Nobody cares that you’re broken, Cas! Clean up your mess!” So, yeah.

S8

Okay, so this is where the Purgatory stuff comes in. In the words of the great John Mulaney, “we don’t have time to unpack all of that,” but this is where I believe Dean started falling in love with Cas.

Dean told Sam that Purgatory felt pure because he could only focus on the fight at all times... but he still had the emotional availability to worry about and search for Cas, so...

If I had to pick an exact moment, I’d say somewhere around here:

And thus, rather than just keeping a trench coat when he lost Cas, Dean literally rewired his own memories because he would rather think that he left Cas behind than think that Castiel chose to leave him.

From here, we can start seeing Dean paying attention to Cas more, noticing when he’s not being himself, and more than that, worrying about him in a more personal way. For instance, when Dean insists that Cas talk to him about what’s bothering him in “Hunteri Heroici.” Not to mention, Dean becomes a lot more emotionally vulnerable regarding his feelings for Cas. One example would be when he insists that he didn’t abandon Cas in Purgatory. Another would be, of course:

I would also mark this season as the season Dean’s prayers to Cas become more emotional and, at times, cathartic, as though he’s confiding in Cas. In “Remember the Titans,” for example, Dean prays to Cas to ask him to look out for Sam; the scene reads like Dean is asking for help but is, in equal measure, asking for Cas. This is also the first season an adversary pokes at Dean and Cas’s relationship in a way that specifically targets Dean and his feelings about Cas rather than Cas’s feelings about Dean as it had been before; this would be when Naomi says “You’re hoping Castiel will return to you.”

S9-S10

Well, these seasons are complicated to say the least because of Gadreel and the Mark of Cain. I don’t think, at this point, Dean ever stops feeling what he’s feeling for Cas. However, I do think that a lot of the hiccups throughout S9 and S10 made Dean step away from those feelings.

Of course, Dean is still stressing about Cas 24/7 in the beginning of S9 what with Cas being human, Cas being hunted, Cas dying, Cas working at a Gas-n-Sip—you know, drama. I think when Gadreel said that Cas needed to stay away if Dean wanted Sam to be healed, Dean had to let what he was feeling for Cas go—not that that means he stopped feeling it, mind you. No, I don’t think Dean consciously went, “Well, guess I’m done falling for this dude,” but I think he knew somewhere in his heart that it wasn’t the time.

Now, the Mark of Cain. The storyline that put the characters down on the page once and left them stagnant and unchanging until it was resolved. Now, as you might imagine, slowly turning into a demon that wants nothing but death would put a damper on any relationship. Finding Destiel in the B season for S9 and throughout S10 is hard. Especially on Dean’s end. 

There are moments when you can tell that Dean’s feelings for Cas are still there, and I would say, developing slowly, like the cheeseburger date. Probably the biggest Destiel moment in the entire Mark of Cain stretch is when Dean nearly kills Cas but resists, despite the Mark’s hold on him.

That’s really it, though. No backwards movement, but barely anything trending the opposite way, either.

S11

This is the Big Season™, the one I believe Dean fell in love with Cas in. Now, obviously, it isn’t like Dean lost the Mark, and boom, fell in love with Cas. Plus, there’s the whole pull-to-Amara thing. However, I don’t think falling in love necessarily has to be a big moment; I think it can just happen, and I think that’s what happened with Dean. At some point between the start of this season and Cas being released from Lucifer’s possession, Dean fell in love with Cas.

That being said—if I was really reaching for a moment—I wouldn’t say it happened during a happy scene. I’d say Dean fell in love with Cas when he lost him.

I know that sounds weird, that Dean didn’t fall in love with Cas completely until he realized Cas had been possessed by Lucifer, but in my head, it fits. I think it’s because Dean is so emotionally closed off and tries not to let his emotions show if he can help it that it took knowing that Cas was gone for that last switch to flip in his heart.

So, now Dean is in love with Cas, but Cas is Lucifer. I’d say this has something to do with the fact that, even though Dean is supposed to be attached to Amara, he still calls out for Cas even though Amara is right in front of him.

Considering the fact that Cas comes back in the literal last episode—at least, that’s when Dean realizes he’s back—there isn’t a whole hell of a lot of time to see how being in love with Cas has changed Dean. We do get the “you’re our brother, Cas” scene, but seeing as how that’s pretty inconsistent with everything that comes afterward, let’s just chalk that one up to bad writing and/or Dean being dense.

S12

Alright, so my post should be done, yeah? I’ve answered the question I’ve set out to answer. However, there’s still more to talk about here. When did Dean first sense that what he felt for Cas was different? When did he have an inclination that it was romantic? When did he know for sure?

That’s why we’re here in S12. Now, S12 is the most Destiel-heavy season in the entire series. In my opinion, while it does have many of the best Destiel scenes, it doesn’t have the best Destiel scene. However, as far as number of moments, S12 takes it.

This is where we really get to see how being in love with Cas has changed Dean. Realistically, I think this has a lot to do with S12 being the beginning of the Dabb era because this era marked a change in tone for both Castiel’s character and his relationship with Dean. Dean began to worry about Cas a lot more frequently and, as a result, got mad at him a lot more, too. I see S12 as the season that Dean moved away from simply being worried about losing Cas to being terrified of losing Cas. And that translated into anger any time Castiel put himself in danger. For example, killing Billie. Any other time, the threat of losing Cas translated itself into fear, like when Cas nearly died from being stabbed with the Lance of Michael.

Of course, the mixtape is also in this season, which is another example of how being in love with Cas has affected Dean. I could probably make an entirely seperate and very long post regarding Destiel in S12, but the general idea is that Dean’s newly found love for Cas made a big difference in how he treated Cas.

S13

Alright, S13 stands outs to me because I believe this is when Dean first realized that Cas meant something more to him than a friend and that he felt differently about him than he did about his family. Again, I don’t think that Dean actually thought those exact words, but I think his heart knew them to be true even if he mind didn’t. Reason being: Cas had just died. Which is the first time Castiel has died since Dean fell in love with him. Dean knew he needed Cas, in a way he hadn’t really realized it before. Which is why he demands that Chuck bring him back.

Then Cas comes back, and it’s like Dean forgets what hopelessness and misery are because Cas is his “big win.” After this, honestly, there isn’t much else by way of emotional development for Dean regarding Cas, but I see that as a good thing. It’s a sign that, though Dean hasn’t realized it yet, being in love with Cas is comfortable for him. There are still expressions of concern for Cas’s wellbeing throughout the season, but mostly, we just get to see Dean be content with Cas.

S14

Alright, S14 a.) mostly saw Dean’s feelings much in the same place as they were in S13 and b.) just kidding because Dean tells Cas that he’s dead to him in this season.

To be fair, if we’re talking Destiel, there’s more of it on Castiel’s end this season than there is on Dean’s because Dean is dealing with Michael. There are a couple moments that stand out to me as moments where Dean’s love for Cas comes through: when Cas asks Dean if his plan to trap himself in the Ma’lak Box means that they’re supposed to say goodbye and when Dean confides in Cas about how he’s handling keeping Michael trapped. In the former scene especially, I think it’s clear to see how much the idea of saying goodbye to Cas affects Dean.

And then we get to “Absence,” which is the episode where Dean tells Cas that he’ll be dead to him if Jack killed Mary. Now, going off on a tangent here to explain how this ties into Dean being in love with Cas, let’s talk about when Dean gets mad at Cas.

When Dean gets mad at Castiel, it’s always out of pain. I think that’s a very unique effect that Cas has on Dean that no one else does, and I believe it’s because Dean gets so overwhelmed with the emotion of betrayal that all he can do is push Cas away. Why a feeling of betrayal? Well, in this case, it’s because Cas knew something was wrong with Jack and didn’t say anything. I think that, as Dean fell more and more in love with Cas, his expectations and feelings for him grew, and because of that, when he feels like he’s been let down by Cas, it turns into rage. 

When Dean walks away from Sam, it’s usually because he’s either worried or angry. With Jack, he walked away because of anger, maybe even disgust. But with Cas, it’s always pain; it’s always because Dean feels like he’s been personally betrayed in a way that has nothing to do with worrying about Cas and everything to do with wanting to hurt Cas back. It’s almost a selfish sort of anger, which is actually a positive for Dean’s character since he rarely puts himself first.

To me, the way Dean gets mad at Cas—especially in S14—is so personal and unique that it serves as proof as to why Dean is in love with Cas. So, even though the “then you’re dead to me” line is so damaging, it’s still a result of Dean loving Cas.

S15

Last season. The hardest season by far, for a lot of reasons. I’m not going to get into the lack of closure the ending of this show gave us in terms of Dean and Castiel, and I’m not going to talk about this final season in conjunction with the Spanish dub—just what I, as an English speaker experienced in canon since that’s what was intended in the final cut—but I will talk about everything else. There’s three episodes/points I’m going to hit with this season, and I’m sure we all know them: “The Rupture,” “The Trap,” and “Despair.”

I’ve already discussed why Dean’s anger points to his being in love with Cas, but I think the important thing to note with “The Rupture” is that Dean still didn’t want to lose Cas, even in the moments when he was hurting Cas and pushing him away.

There’s still a couple questions I’ve asked that I haven’t answered yet, and one of them will be answered with “The Trap.” I think this episode—and really, the moment Cas told him he heard his prayer—marks the first time that Dean considered that his feelings might be romantic. I don’t know how clear those thoughts were or if Dean told himself he was wrong afterward, but I do think that that scene was the beginning of possibility for Dean and Cas. Had they had enough time, they would’ve decided to be together, and that scene is where they both really felt it for the first time—even if they didn’t believe the other felt the same way.

I’ll be honest: I really don’t want to talk about “Despair” because it’ll just make me sad. Alas, there is one question that still needs to be answered: When did Dean know that he was in love with Cas?

When it was already too late. Much like in S11, I think it took Dean losing Cas to realize how he felt about him. The difference here is: I think Dean would’ve realized it regardless; hearing how Cas felt about him and then losing Cas just forced it. Had Cas not died, I don’t believe it would’ve been too long before Dean realized it naturally, and that’s the most frustrating thing about this scene is that Dean didn’t have to learn how he felt through the trauma of losing Cas.

I’m not trying to diminish this scene because, had there been closure—and proper editing—I’d say this scene was the perfect avenue for Castiel’s character to go down because it would mean that, when he came back, he could be with Dean.

Again, I’m not getting into the semantics of the final couple episodes or how they handled Destiel because it’ll just make me mad, but I think Dean realizing he was in love with Cas was just as big of a factor in him seeing himself differently as Cas’s speech was. I think Dean wanted to honor Cas by being the person Castiel saw him as; I think Dean wanted to live as a man worthy of being loved by the man he fell in love with.

Anyway, that’s my take on when Dean Winchester fell in love with Castiel based on what canon gave us. As someone who had been very realistic about the possibility of Destiel over the years and had never truly hoped for it in canon because I knew better, I have never been more convinced that Dean is in love with Castiel as I am now, after the show has ended.

I don’t think I can say I believe he was in love with him all along, but I believe that his story, their story, of falling in love is real and true, however long it may have taken. I’ll never say goodbye to these two, but I’m happy that I can at least walk away from this show knowing that they found each other in the end, even if their ending didn’t do justice to their legacy.

Let me know when you think Dean fell in love Cas or vise versa. I’m curious to know what you see in their relationship. I don’t think I’ll be making a post like this for Castiel because, in my opinion, Cas fell in love with Dean rather quickly—his journey was just realizing what that meant. Anyway, thank you for reading this, and thank you for being a part of this twelve year long love story that is Destiel.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Unconditional

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You deal with conflicting emotions as you try to understand why you deserve Loki’s love. When he finds out about your turmoil, he helps you heal. Warnings: angst, toxic/emotionally abusive parents, a couple curse words, fluff  A/N: Here you go, nonny! I’ve been very fortunate that this isn’t a topic I’ve had experience with in my life, but I did some research, so I hope that I portrayed it ok. Thanks for reading :) 

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

You were currently sitting back on the couch with your feet propped up on the table, waiting for Loki to come in with your movie snack. He’d brought the tradition of Friday movie night with him when he moved out of the Tower and in with you. As he came over holding the bowl of popcorn, you moved the blanket a bit so he had room to sit. Loki rested the bowl of popcorn in your lap, freeing his arm to put around your shoulders. He placed a kiss to your temple as he hit play on the remote.

“What was that for?” you asked with a happy, but bewildered smile.

“Just because you look so adorable sitting there all bundled up, my sweet.”

Loki had been living with you for about a month now, and you’d been dating for almost a year. Still, you weren’t used to the little, unprompted signs of affection he was so keen on giving. The smallest things caused you so much stress. For instance, Loki had casually brought up an inside joke one of the lines in the movie had reminded him of. The joke was funny, sure, but the way he’d grabbed your hand as he said it made your heart beat faster than should be humanly possible. It was so different from what you grew up with, but you didn’t want to worry Loki with your problems. He’d either say you were being stupid like so many other people in your life had, or he’d want to murder anyone who’d ever hurt you. You weren’t sure which was better. That was why you brushed it off anytime he asked why you were so confused.

Sharing a bed with Loki was simultaneously the best and worst part of your day. It was the best because you were completely head over heels for the handsome god, and you loved to see him peacefully asleep in the moonlight. But when he’d subconsciously reach out to hold you, you felt the most overwhelming mix of confusion and joy. So many times you lay there with a racing heart, trying to figure out what you did to deserve this.

“Hey, Loki,” you whispered one night, gently brushing hair out of his face.

He hummed in response, dancing on the edge of sleep and consciousness. You hesitated a moment before continuing, but decided he was so tired that there was a good chance he wouldn’t even remember in the morning.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, trying to open his tired eyes to look at you.

“I don’t know. For everything, I guess.”

You hesitantly reached out and brushed a strand of raven black hair away from his face. His hand came up to rest on yours, stilling your nervous movement. His piercing blue-green eyes were now staring right at you.

“You have nothing to thank me for. I do this because I love you, and I would like to have a word with whoever made you think must thank someone for loving you.”

You fidgeted under his gaze. “It’s just me being silly. Don’t worry about it.”

“It is silly indeed, my sweet. But know that I am here for you if there ever is anything you would like to talk about,” he said in a knowing tone. “Now, perhaps we would both benefit from some sleep.”

You agreed by cuddling into his side, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrap around you. That’s when you realized that you were getting too close to Loki, too used to his touch. You’d learned long ago how to get on without contact from others. You couldn’t let yourself be pulled down by hope again. This would have to be remedied before you got hurt again. It could wait until morning, though, because right now Loki’s inviting touch was gently lulling you into a deep slumber.

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

“Yes, Mr. Stark, I’m sure that the creeping phlox would be the best choice,” you reassured the billionaire.

“What kind of name is that for a flower, anyway?”

“A very good one, if you look into it. And I need you to sign off on the violet centerpieces, too.”

You were Tony’s go-to florist, which meant you were at the Tower more often than not with all the events he was constantly hosting. It was during a meeting, much like the one you were in right now, that you’d first met Loki. The first time you’d made contact was when he offered you a handshake. Even that simple act caused your skin to jump in excitement. At the time, you’d had no idea just how far your relationship would go.

“There you are, my sweet,” Loki said, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Loki!” you screamed in delight as he kissed your neck. “You scared me.”

You relaxed against him for a second before remembering you were supposed to be detaching yourself from him. It was a preemptive strike, but a necessary one since you were certain this relationship would end the same way all your others had. Loki would slowly pull away until, one day, he’d stop touching you altogether. Then you’d go back to that empty, lonely feeling that you tried to tell yourself was okay. You wriggled out of his grasp, pretending like you needed to get to your clipboard. Your boyfriend dropped his arms in dismay, your increased disinterest in his touch not going unnoticed.

“My apologies. Perhaps you would like to step outside for a minute a talk?” he suggested with quirked eyebrows.

“Sorry, Reindeer Games,” Tony interrupted. “I need them to finish preparations. And you’re supposed to be in training. You two lovebirds can talk at home.”

“Very well. Promise?” he said, looking over his shoulder at you as he exited.

“Promise.”

With one last sad glance back at you, he exited. You did your best to put on a bright smile for Tony as you finished up business. On the inside, however, you were a mess. Half of your brain kept saying that you’d ruined things with Loki by pulling away, but the other half was convinced that this was inevitable, and it was good you’d already started getting used to the lack of touch again. By the time you drove home, you felt ready to cry. You rested your head on the steering wheel for a minute, blinking away the tears, only to be startled by a loud honk. You looked up to see a car parked on the street in front of your house. Your heart started racing, but not because it was unfamiliar or threatening. Rather, you knew it all too well. And maybe the people inside did pose a bit of a threat to your mental health.

“Took you long enough,” your mother said unkindly, approaching you as you stepped out of the car.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were coming,” you mumbled, kicking a rock on the ground.

“Well you’re always disagreeable when we try to schedule, so whose fault is that?” your father berated.

“Mine. Sorry.”

“I swear, I don’t know where we went wrong with you. All your siblings are normal. Now let us in.”

“No.”

You wished you could say that you’d found the strength to say that to your parents, but it was actually Loki. His arrival had gone unnoticed up until this point, but it was obvious that he’d heard everything.

“Excuse me,” your mother gasped. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m their boyfriend, but you may know me as Loki, God of Mischief, Brother of Thor, and rightful heir of Jotunheim. Not to mention an Avenger. And I’ve had quite enough of you speaking to my beloved this way,” he finished, protectively wrapping his arms around you.

“How’d you score this one?” your mother continued, not missing a beat. “He’s far too good looking for you. If only he knew your brothers or sister, he wouldn’t waste his time on the likes of you.”

“Enough!” Loki roared. “You will leave our property at once, unless you’d like me to forcibly eject you.”

“Are you going to let him speak to us like that?” your father fumed, angrily pointing at you.

“I really do think it’s best you leave,” you said in a barely audible voice.

Your parents finally went back to their car and drove off, muttering about you and Loki the whole way. When they went past you, your mother flipped you off.

“It’s ok, my sweet,” Loki shushed you, folding you into a hug. “They’re gone now and I am here. I will never let them hurt you again.”

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until Loki brushed the tears off your cheek. To save you some embarrassment, he ushered you inside and escorted you to the couch. He wrapped you in a soft blanket and conjured a cup of tea for you. Then he sat beside you, his hands never leaving your body.

“Shit. Loki, I’m so sorry,” you finally said. “You wanted to talk, right?”

“There is not a single thing you should be apologizing to me for. Yes, I did want to talk, but I believe I understand now. Those wretched excuses for parents have made you feel undeserving of my love, my touch. Trust me when I tell you that they are wrong, and there is no one more deserving of it than you.”

He slowly leaned in, testing the waters, before crashing his lips onto yours. You kissed him back and held onto him as if you were sinking in the ocean and he was your lifeline. When you had to break for air, Loki kissed away your tears, then he kissed your closed eyelids. Next he moved to your jaw and down your neck, working his way toward your hands. He kissed each of your fingers, putting more love into each one he gave you. It was so overwhelming, and yet so perfect. When he stopped, he looked into your eyes, awaiting a reply.

“Okay,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “Okay.”

Loki knew you were far from healed, and quite possibly just didn’t argue because you didn’t have the strength to. He would take the win for now, though. You were so tired that you began to fall asleep listening to the steady sound of Loki’s heartbeat as he held your head to his chest. Just as you were about to succumb to unconsciousness, you heard him whisper something so low you had to strain to make it out.

“You deserve this and so much more. I truly do love with you every fiber of my being, my sweet.”

[whoisbxcky]

What Is, And What Should Never Be Pt. 2

summary: Last time you woke up to find yourself living in a strange dream world, in which you and Bucky were no longer together, you had a substance abuse problem and SUVs were actually capable of actually causing bodily harm. 

This time when you wake up, things have taken a darker turn, and famously nothing is ever as it seems.

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: all of them. (angst, mentions of substance abuse and rehab, being sectioned/ psychiatric care, violence, medically things, death, angst), idk if m/c being a bisexual disaster is a tw but if girls being attracted to other girls hurts your delicate sensibilities... Sorry not sorry?

author’s note: Oh, where to start. It’s been a while, I kind of fell out of love with writing. Not sure if I’m necessarily back ‘in love’ with it but I had an idea for a couple more chapters of this shit show and figured, hey, lockdown 3.0, why the hell not.

As always, feedback is welcome. Thank you for the continued support on part one of this carnage, I’m not very good at replying to people but do know the kind words/ likes/ reblogs and follows are greatly appreciated. ~ Toria

You groaned softly as light trickled over your weary eyes, the cool breeze from the fan on the bedside table ruffling the strands of hair that hung delicately around your face. Consciousness was beginning to come to you as the steady beeping of what you guessed was your alarm carried through your room, rousing you from strange dreams that slipped away into the darkness of your subconscious as you woke. You yawned, rolling from your back to your side and throwing one arm out to wrap around the muscular form beside you, seeking its familiar warmth and security.

Your eyes shot open wildly as you felt the tug from the IV in your skin instead.

It took a moment for your eyes to fully register your surroundings: white walls, pale blue blanket, wires and machines and a whiteboard on the wall opposite with your name and a lot of medical jargon scribbled on it. A hospital? But why the hell would you be in the hospital?

You racked your brain, trying to summon the last thing you remembered… You’d just woken up from a terrible nightmare, Bucky was consoling you… Bucky…

Suddenly, a tentative knock at the hospital room door snapped you back to reality, and when it creaked open and Bucky stuck his head through the gap, you almost sobbed in relief.

“Bucky!” You half-breathed, half-wheezed his name. Damn, your ribs hurt. Why did your ribs hurt?

“Y/N…” Bucky’s voice was hoarse as he fully entered the room, pushing the door to behind him and quickly making his way to your side. “How are you feeling?” He murmured, a gentle hand coming to rest on your forehead.

“I, uh, I- Oh, ow!” You had tried to sit up as you spoke, but the pain in your ribs made you cry out, you felt patches on your skin pulling uncomfortably tight too… Stitches?

“Y/N…?” Bucky was eyeing you worriedly.

“I… Hurt. Like, wore a semi-truck to the prom kind of hurt. What the hell happened to me? I don’t remember anything after we went to sleep last night…”

You trailed off, Bucky’s incredulous gaze making your stomach turn uneasily.

“What did happen to me, Buck?” You questioned, one hand snaking out from under the blanket to grip his. Bucky jumped at the sudden contact and seemed to be struggling to meet your gaze.

It was during the brief, uncomfortable silence that followed that you finally took a moment to look at Bucky. Really look at him. Your eyes widened and your heart stopped in your chest as your brain finally registered what your eyes could see. A suit jacket. Bucky was wearing a suit jacket. Why was Bucky wearing a suit jacket?

“Y/N… You don’t remember?” Bucky gave you a pitiful look as he absentmindedly stroked your hair out of your face. “You had an accident. You were hit by a car, outside my office, you remember?”

You could feel it. The lightening strike that rattled your very core. The dread creeping into your throat threatening to drown you in panic. Your palms became slick with sweat as you shook your head frantically.

“No. No. That was a nightmare, that wasn’t real.” Your voice was raising in tone, you could feel panic giving way to anger. Bucky’s pitiful gaze did little to quell your frustration.

“Bucky, if this is your idea of some sick, practical joke I swear-“ You moved to get up, to face him. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do, slap him? Hold him? Get on your knees and beg him to tell you this wasn’t real?

Either way, you never made it to your feet. Before Bucky could move to stop you, you had launched yourself from the bed so desperately that the tearing of your stitches made you double over, clutching your side and gasping for air.

“Y/N!” Bucky called anxiously, gripping you under your arms and gently pushing you back into the bed. You winced as crimson began to seep through your hospital gown, and the room tilted sickeningly around you. Though, whether that was from the pain or the crushing reality you currently faced, you had yet to decide.

“Bucky, please.” You wheezed, gripping onto him like your life depended on it. “Please tell me this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. This… I…”

You stifled a sob as Bucky pulled himself from your grasp, straightening his suit jacket with an affronted glare.

“You must have hit your head when the SVU hit you. The doctors mentioned this could happen.” He sighed, moving close to you once more and crouching to meet you at eye level. “But you don’t need to worry, Y/N. My company is covering the medical expenses, my PR team are handling the media coverage. I feel terrible that you got hurt, really, I do. But things between us haven’t, and will never, change. I only came to make sure you were alright.”

He gave your cheek a light pat, offering you a curt smile as he straightened up once more.

“I’ll have a nurse come in to fix those stitches up. Call my office if you need anything while you’re here.” He called over his shoulder, making his way towards the door.

You could feel the bile rising in your throat. Just like last time. You couldn’t understand. Was this a dream again? Could you visit the same dream over and over? But, somehow, your gut feeling told you this was more than a dream. A horrible thought popped into your head, making your heart rate spike on the monitor. Had you really woken up before? Or was that just another part of this dream? Was this even a dream, or were you truly in another universe, and this was truly your life now? You felt caged, trapped by unseen forces. You wanted out. You wanted out right now.

“No.” You whispered, your entire body shaking.

“What was that?” Bucky called back to you, his hand resting on the doorknob.

When he turned to look, his eyes widened in shock. You were glaring at him, eyes full of tears, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood.

“I want to wake up. I want to wake up right now.” You said, feeling the hysteria in your rising tone. Bucky gasped as you began frantically pulling tubes and needles from your body, stumbling to your feet as more stitches pulled loose.

“WAKE UP, DAMMIT!” You shrieked, driving your elbow into your injured ribs hard enough to make you see stars. You screamed as white-hot agony threatened to take you back into unconsciousness.

You were vaguely aware of Bucky flinging the door open, calling for help. But you hardly cared, all you could think about was waking up from this nightmare.

You ground your teeth together to mute another scream as you clumsily made your way to the window, driving your fist through the glass. It shattered, and you gasped as stray shards bit into your arm, causing a fresh wave of dizziness. You gazed, uncomprehending, at your injured arm. Crimson red. No two ways about it. That blood was real. You could feel its warmth trickling down your skin, smell the nauseating scent of sickly-sweet iron, making your stomach roil once again.

This is real. You thought to yourself numbly, as strong, familiar arms gripped you tight. Bucky was holding onto you, pulling you away from the window.

Bucky.

No. Not Bucky. Not your Bucky.

You screamed once more, wriggling and writhing to escape this imposters grasp. You could hear your voice, hoarse and terrifyingly frantic, ordering him to let you go. But you sounded far away. Why did you sound so far away?

The edges of your vision became dim and blurry, and you found yourself going limp in Bucky’s grip. A sedative? Cheaters.

You felt yourself falling. Bucky’s face above you, mouthing words that felt familiar, but not. Be okay? Of course, I’m okay, Bucky…

...

The light that woke you from your restless slumber this time was not gentle. There was no breeze. No sound. Just an uncomfortable silence.

You cracked one eye open, almost blinded by the fluorescence that reflected harshly on the sterile white walls around you. The room smelled strange, almost clinical. Was that a scream you just heard? Was it yours? Could you even scream? You felt heavy, like you couldn’t lift your arms.

Oh.

As consciousness returned to you, you quickly concluded that the restraints around your wrists were the likely cause of your inability to move.

Restraints? But why-?

Oh.

It all came back to you like a flood. The hospital, the car accident, Bucky, your breakdown.

Oh.

With a resigned sigh, you let your arms relax on the table. No point trying to get out of this, where would you go, after all?

You couldn’t quite tell if you wanted to laugh or cry given your current predicament. The idea of being trapped in an alternate reality sounded insane. But, then again, everything about being an Avenger had seemed insane to you in the beginning, and alternate universes and galaxies weren’t exactly out of the realm of credulity in your line of work.

If only you could remember how and why you were in one right now.

Was it a mission gone wrong? Had you been abducted by aliens? You certainly felt like you’d been abducted, the bright lights and restraint table were almost comical in their addition to the situation.

You were grinning to yourself when the door in front of you swung open suddenly, and a tall, slender figure entered the room.

Alien? You picked your head up as far as it would go to examine the new addition to your delirium, and almost gasped aloud as you did.

The woman who stood before you was, for lack of a better term, drop dead gorgeous.

She was tall, easily 5,9, with long, flowing ebony waves that framed her rich, tera-cotta heart shaped face perfectly. She was dressed in a knee length pencil coat and blouse, clearly a professional. Her white lab coat flowed behind her as she slowly made her way over to you, the sound of what you assumed were stilettos clicking against the tile floor as she went. Some form of medical professional, then. But as she made her way up the bed towards your head, you realised the most striking feature she possessed was her eyes. They were blue, but not the colour of the sky, or sapphires, not the ocean or any other mundane comparison. They were otherworldly, glowing with a fluorescence that made you want to gaze into them for an eternity. When she spoke, her voice was velvet dipped in honey. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Good morning, Y/N. My name is Dr. Tess Rakt. I’ll be overseeing your treatment during your stay at this institution.” She offered you a warm smile as she spoke.

You paused, struggling to find your voice. You were by no means a shy person, but this woman’s presence was… Imposing? No, captivating.

You could have spent all day staring, merely drinking in the striking figure that stood before you, however as your brain finally registered what Dr Rakt had said to you, your jaw went slack.

“Institution?” You croaked weakly.

“Yes, dove.” She offered you a sympathetic smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Mr Barnes felt you would be safest under psychiatric care right now. And after reviewing your file, I have to agree. You’ve had quite a rough time as of late.”

You stared at her sceptically for a beat. Bucky had you sectioned? That bastard.

“Fret not, dove.” Dr Rakt continued, “There’s no shame in you being here. If you work with me during your stay, and are receptive to your treatment plan, you’ll be out of here in no time.” There was that smile again. It was like sunshine, almost blinding to look at.

“I’m not crazy.” You murmured, struggling to meet her intense gaze.

“Of course not. But your behaviour in the hospital, plus your insistence that you are from another reality? You can understand why your loved ones are concerned, can you not?” She raised a quizzical brow, and you swallowed, hard.

You had to hand it to her, she had you there.

“Okay, so it sounds crazy.” You retorted, biting your lip. “But I swear, I’m telling the truth. My life before two days ago was nothing like this.”

Dr Rakt flicked through her notes in silence for a moment, before seemingly finding what she was looking for and nodding to herself with a smile.

“I understand. I see from your file you have a long history with substance abuse?” She questioned, and you felt yourself blush red again. Both Nat and Bucky had mentioned that you were a junkie in this reality, so you suppose you couldn’t really deny it, could you?

“Mhm.” She nodded, with a sympathetic smile. “Y/N, it is not uncommon for long term narcotic use to… Cause trouble, with your memories. That is to say, is it not a possibility that the life you think you had before, is in fact the illusion?”

You stared at her, dumbfounded. There was no way… Unless…

Your entire body felt numb and uncomfortably cold. A small voice in the back of your head called out: out of two realities- one in which you’re a superhero that fights aliens from other planets, and one in which you’re a drug addict whose mind has been scrambled by a lifetime supply cocktail of class As, which one seems like the most likely?

“Fear not, dove. We’re going to work together to fix that mind of yours.” Dr Rakt offered you yet another warm smile, her luminescent eyes seemingly glowing brighter as she stood.

You could only watch helplessly as the Doctor turned on her heal and sauntered out of the room, biting back the sob that threatened to rip itself from your trembling form.

“I’m not crazy.” You whispered to yourself, over and over again, before unconsciousness came for you once more.

...

It had been weeks. Months, maybe? You weren’t sure anymore. Your days all seemed to merge together. Always the same.

Wake up, eat, talk to Dr Rakt, eat, sleep- rinse and repeat.

Your sessions had been going well, according to her. She was sure that your past drug use was the cause of your delusions. A world of supernatural beings, crime fighting demi-gods and aliens; a world of ‘Avengers’ and magical stones and intergalactic wars; a world you once considered your reality, you were now beginning to realise was all a fever dream.

It felt odd, admitting that to yourself. When you first woke up that morning in your apartment, which felt like a lifetime ago now, you had felt so sure that this world was the illusion. You would have sworn it on your life at the time, no doubts, or questions to be asked.

You chuckled to yourself as you considered the absurdity of it all, dipping your paint brush into a fresh pot of water as you mused. You had taken up painting as a way to depict these strange delusions to Tess- Dr Rakt, when you first began your sessions together. The more you had painted, and the more you had discussed said paintings with her, the more you had come to understand just how far from reality that world truly was.

You enjoyed your talks with the Doctor more and more each day: it was like no matter how strange or ridiculous your stories were, she never judged you. In fact, sometimes it seemed like she understood what you were talking about as if it were her own memory, like she could look inside your mind and really understand your thoughts and feelings.

You sighed and a soft smile crept onto your lips, your easy brush strokes making you fall into a light trance.

You truly didn’t know what you would have done without Tessa. You understood now, that thanks to her, you could go back to living your life. Your life here, in the real world. Your life with-

Bucky.

You bit your lip, suddenly losing interest in the painting you had been working on as memories of your ex-boyfriend flooded your mind.

You hadn’t heard from him since that day in the hospital, the day you’d had a complete breakdown, the day that had led you here.

You missed him. Terribly.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door to your room, and Dr Rakt’s head poked around the corner, her bright smile making your chest fluttery and warm.

“Good afternoon, dove. How’s the artwork going?” She enquired in a sing song tone, entering the room, and shutting the door behind her.

“Tessa- I mean, Dr Rakt!” You smiled sheepishly, getting to your feet as she approached you, a wry grin on her taupe lips. “It’s going well, it’s a strange one today though, a place I think I called Wakanada? Wakanda? Anyway, it’s-” You cut yourself off, moving to point her in the direction of your intricately drawn city.

You felt her hand on your arm and you shivered, turning to face her. She was close, so close you could smell the flowery perfume, feel her breath fanning your hair.

“It’s very good. Very interesting.” She smiled encouragingly, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear, before her hand came to rest under your chin, tilting your face up to meet her fluorescent azure gaze.

“You look tired, dove. Have you been sleeping?” She said softly, looking you over with concern. You swallowed hard in turn, hoping the flush in your cheeks was not as visible as it felt.

“Y-yes, yes I have.” You gave her a small smile, feeling a strange pang in your chest as she released your chin and took a step back.

“Very well. Anyway, I came to tell you that you have a visitor.”

“I do?” You asked, unable to keep the surprise from your tone.

Tessa smiled at you, offering you her hand. “Come, I’ll take you to the visitors suite.”

You eagerly took her hand, allowing her to lead you down the winding corridors of the hospital. You paid no mind to the screaming and shouting that echoed out from the closed doors that you passed, you had long since drowned them out. That happened a lot these days, especially when you were with Tessa.

Finally, the two of you arrived as an impressive oak door with gold lettering that let you know you’d arrived at your destination. You swallowed hard, unconsciously gripping Tessa’s hand harder in turn. She turned to look at you with that sunshine smile as you blushed, shrugging as you quickly released her hand from your grip.

“There’s nothing to fear, dove. It’s just a visit. You’re not going anywhere.” Her voice was so gentle, it calmed your nerves instantly, and you smiled.

Tessa was right, of course. You were safe here with her. Besides, the only person you could think of who might pay you a visit was Nat, and you’d wanted the chance to thank her ever since the day this has all started anyway.

With one last pat on the arm, Dr Rakt pushed the doors open, granting you access to the visitor’s suit. You took a tentative step inside and shivered. The room was cold, but not only in temperature. You were greeted by the off-green hue of the walls, the rotting furniture, even the musty smell of death and decay. Everything about the room felt unfamiliar… Uncomfortable. This place gave you a bad feeling.

A cough from one of the dark corners of the hall made you start, and your eyes snapped up in time to watch as a familiar face materialised from the darkness, making you step back in surprise.

“Bucky…?” You gasped.

“Y/N. Hi.” He took a tentative step towards you, offering you an awkward wave as he did.

You stared at him for a beat, myriad emotions running through you at once. Joy, excitement, confused, embarrassment. But the one that really threatened to overtake you was the anger. All the feelings of betrayal towards him, that you had forgotten since you arrived at this institution, boiled up inside you at once, threatening to overflow.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?” You folded your arms, your tone challenging. You could tell that your efforts to portray your displeasure at seeing him had been effective, given the way he took a step back, clearly affronted.

“I… I just wanted to check in. See how you’re… Getting on.” He offered nonchalantly. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he looked you up and down. “You look… Well?”

You couldn’t contain the snort that ripped itself from you, your eyes rolling in tandem.

“No thanks to you.” You spat.

“Excuse me?” You could hear the hurt in his tone.

Good. Let him hurt, you thought to yourself. The venom you felt roil inside your chest was almost overwhelming.

“How could you do this to me?” You snarled, finally taking a step towards him, your arms unfolding as your fists balled at your sides.

Bucky stepped back in turn; confusion etched upon his handsome face. “Y/N… What are you? Do what?” He inquired.

With an air of sarcasm, you gestured to the room around you. “Well, hell, Bucky. It’s not like you dropped me off at Disney Land. You abandoned me in a freaking nut house!” Your voice was beginning to raise with hysteria, and you could feel yourself losing the battle with your tremulous emotions.

“Y/N… I… I did it for your own good!” Bucky snapped back, taking a step towards you to close the gap. You could see the tremble in his hands, the fire beginning to burn in his eyes. “You were unhinged, you needed help! Those delusions-”

Your eyes widened as you barked a short, sarcastic laugh in retort, “you had me shipped off to a psych ward, Bucky. While I was unconscious. You’re lucky I ended up in the right place or you’d be looking at a human trafficking charge being brought against you.” You paused for breath, feeling the hurt beginning to bleed into your chest through the seething rage.

Bucky scoffed, rubbing the back on his neck in exasperation. But you couldn’t help but notice that he struggled to meet your gaze this time.

“I did what I thought was best for you.” He whispered finally.

“Except what’s best for me isn’t really any of your concern anymore, now, is it?” You murmured in response, folding your arms once more to cradle the blow your own words left on your heart.

Bucky swallowed hard, shaking his head.

“Recall that you’re the one who showed up acting bat-shit crazy on my doorstep. You made it my concern, Y/N. You-” His voice reached a crescendo, his own frustration finally taking hold. But you could listen no more.

“You bastard.” You heard your voice, a pained whisper, cut him off.

Bucky’s eyes finally snapped up to meet your own, and for the first time since you had walked into the room you felt him look at you. Really look at you. The contempt you found in that look made your stomach churn.

It was too much for you.

You suddenly found yourself void of any and all emotion towards the man. This man had betrayed you, abandoned you. He had replaced you with a younger, trashier version. Hell, he’d even chased you into oncoming traffic and put you in the hospital. At first, all of those transgressions had angered you, hurt you even. But, you realised numbly, in order to be hurt, one has to care. And you did not care about Bucky Barnes anymore. Not one bit.

“The Bucky I know, that I love, would never turn his back on someone in need. If you are all that reality has to offer me, then I want nothing to do with you.” You said with an air of finality.

You turned your back on him, making your way to the door. You dully considered how strange a thing it was that him not calling after you, not trying to chase you down and apologise, didn’t bother you in the slightest, where once it would have broken your heart.

Guess therapy worked better than I thought, you mused.

You passed through the threshold, back into the familiarity of the institution corridor, without looking back. When the door slammed behind you, you found yourself face to face with Dr Rakt, those piercing blue eyes never leaving yours.

“Well done, dove.” She reached up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, “letting him go, it’s for the best.”

You smiled, the reassurance of her words making you feel light, and warm.

“What do you say we go back to your room, maybe do some painting? Or we could have coffee, and talk…” Dr Rakt began, offering you her hand.

Just as you reached out to take it, you became acutely aware of yelling, coming from behind the ancient oak doors. These screams weren’t like the others, those of the other patients that you had grown so accustomed to ignoring. There was something… Familiar about them?

“Y/N… Please…”

“Bucky?” You whispered, moving to turn back to the door.

Just as your head turned, Dr Rakt’s arm shot out to grip your own. You glanced down at it in surprise, what was her problem?

“Come, dove. Let us return to your room.” Her voice held it’s usually warmth, but you couldn’t help but notice the annoyance that flashed in her eyes as Bucky’s voice called out from behind the door once more.

“Doll… You have to get out of there… You have to wake up, please!”

“Wake up…? But, Bucky… I…?” Almost entranced by the voice on the other side, you turned on your heal, your hand reaching out to grip the door handle, to get to Bucky.

Suddenly, Dr Rakt’s grip on your arm tightened painfully, and you felt yourself being flung around to face her once more.

Except, you realised with a gasp of horror, where once Dr Rakt had stood, there was now a hulking form, made entirely of shadow. Your scream of terror never made it from your throat, as a hazy black hand shot out to grip your neck with a crushing strength that made you gag. When the figure spoke, its voice was like shards of glass on a chalk board.

“Nice try, dove. But you won’t escape your cage so easily.” It hissed, you thought you could make out the echoes of a chuckle form deep within its core, although it sounded a lot more like air escaping a balloon.

“What… Mean… I… Don’t…” You tried to speak, but only managed a faint wheeze as your throat was squeezed even tighter in a fist of dark matter.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, dove. We’ll have that mind of yours fixed in no time.” The voice said, and with a start you realised where the familiarity of those words came from. Dr Rakt-?

You felt yourself being thrown backwards, felt the concrete wall collide with your skull.

Then, you felt nothing. Only darkness.

...

Your eyes shot open wildly as you gulped in air, clutching your head with a groan. Pain exploded in your temple as you sat up, your hand reaching out to find a light switch.

Instead, you found your hand in the grip of another, this one metal, and incredibly familiar.

“Doll?” Bucky groaned; you felt the bed shift as he sat up beside you. When the bedside lamp stuttered to life, you were greeted by sleep addled eyes, tousled hair. The familiarity of Bucky’s presence.

Except, something about this felt entirely too familiar. So much so that you found you hand recoiling from Bucky’s grip.

“Is everything alright, doll?” Bucky questioned, the concern in his expression making you wince.

“Yeah. Yeah, just a nightmare, Buck. Nothing to worry about.” You responded, your voice weary and small.

With a satisfied nod, Bucky let his hulking figure flop back onto the bed, his arm reaching out clumsily to knock the light back off.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m always here.” His gentle tone called out from the sudden darkness.

As you lay back down, you turned your back to him, pulling your knees up to your chest as anxiety rippled through you.

“I know.” You muttered in response, that’s what’s starting to concern me.

---

In the darkness of his cell, Bucky flung himself back against the damp stone wall, the clattering of the chains around his neck, wrists and ankles echoing sharply around him. The sobs that wracked his battered and bruised form came out as little more than a wheeze, his voice was completely spent having screamed for hours, trying desperately to reach you.

There, in the centre of the room, you lay. Your limp, emaciated body hung from your own set of chains, the only difference being that myriad needles and tubes of varying sizes hung from your body as well.

As Bucky’s eyes followed their trail, he dully noted the sound of machines whirring somewhere in another corner of the dank room, but he paid them little mind. Instead, his focus returned to the point at which the largest of the tubes attached to your fragile form led, its epicentre illuminating the room with an unearthly azure luminescence.

There, positioned within some strange machine made of iron and gears, was the Tesseract.

If only Bucky could reach it. He had tried so many times, pulling, tearing, even gnawing at his restraints in the hopes one might give way. If only he could get himself loose, he could get that wretched stone away from you, get its influence out of your mind. God, what it must be doing to your mind-

Bucky was suddenly torn from his thoughts as you began to seize for the fifth time in an hour. He could only watch in numb horror, his ability to cry, to scream for you, all but spent.

“My, my.” A familiar voice echoed in the darkness of the cell, a hulking figure emerging from the shadows. “I do not believe our darling dove has much more to give, does she?”

Bucky gritted his teeth, letting his head fall useless back against the wall as a single tear spilled down his purpled cheek.

“Now, Bucky, are you ready to comply?”

Part 1 | Part 3

[tigerdrop]

dogboy gordon rutting against benreys leg in the same way that benrey did it in the reverse. benrey encouraging him and also making fun of him in the same breath. yummy brain thoughts. i am rotating this

jesus christ i started thinking about dogboy gordon and have not stopped thinking. theres 7k words of dogboy stuff under here im going insane

how in the. help. Help. dog boy. how does he become dogboy. i cant keep giving these idiots potions but i guess thats what ive been reduced to

gman turns him into a dog boy. walks thru a portal and comes out in nintendogs but hes the dog and when he comes back out again hes still a little bit dogy. this is fucking stupid

THE TAIL WAGGING im going to pass away

> i think he would have such fucking issues with the fact that his tail and ears are expressing his emotions so much

trying to act angry towards benrey but hes given away by his tail wagging like crazy......and he never even knows its happening until somebody points it out

it would be cool if. um. he got a little more into roughhousing and rough play afterward. you know. like a . hes already really handsy......physical. . .. .

> okay like the anger turning into somewhat-serious jostling and pushing which turns into roughhousing

its not even horny at first it just gives him the weirdest fucking endorphins. like. its fucking fun man

> and by the time theyre roughhousing his tail is wagging furiously and like thumping on the floor when he gets pinned haha

> YES its about the exhilaration ......he gets this rush from flipping benrey over after he's pinning him, baring his teeth triumphantly

benrey pinning him by his wrists and half-laughing at him like "what the fuck is wrong with you??" and the rest of the science team chimes in like YEAH WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU GUYS WHAT WAS THAT

> gordon comes back to himself and turns red immediately and splutters like "i dont know! what - im just - benrey started it!” so like he refuses to do it again but then benrey pushes his buttons and he gets in his face, ears pinned back a bit and shoves him and benreys like oh...so its this again huh...

GOD......PUSHING HIS BUTTONS.......its sooo much fun now that gordons so physically reactive too

> what if he manages to get an honest to god growl out of gordon at one point and it makes something ugly twist in benrey's gut and he wants to make it happen again

and its probably really gratifying for him to see just how often gordons tail wags when gordon looks at him or snorts at one of his jokes

TWO SIDES

> the duality of their relationship....gordons tail wagging just a bit when hes looking at benrey though im

> im thinking about the growling though like...benrey gets fixated on how he fucking sounds, all deep and rumbly and this intensity just focused on benrey only....makes him think about how that would look in other contexts....

> benrey riling him up while their roughousing so he can feel that growl travel through his chest and like...getting gordon to that point makes him SO determined to win the "fight" over benrey hes almost a bit out of his mind with it......pins benrey and subconsciously ruts against him a bit as a sign of dominance....please stop me now goodbye....

NO LITERALLY THATS WHAT I WAS THINKING ABOUT THE MOMENT I STARTED TYPING

prodding gordon further and further and riling him up until gordon pins him to the floor, hard, an arm jammed behind his back and his HEV suit jammed up against benreys ass and rutting subconsciously as gordon. h. gordon. clamps down on the back of his neck and growls

benrey sucks in a rattling gasp and is like "what? ow" in a weirdly shocked yet distanced way

he cant feel where gordons hard b/c of the HEV suit but he can feel the metal awkwardly bumping against his ass Like That. and inwardly benreys on a loop of "what the fuck what the fuck" but not in a bad way in the slightest. just utterly cannot believe this is whats happening, right now, gordon freeman dry humping his ass behind a bunch of crates, not 100 feet from the rest of the science team

> gordon snapping out of it and being like...what the fuck am i doing... or....maybe the gasp makes gordon bite down harder in response...not sure

> gordon not even realizing hes doing it until that moment is so great....i dont know but....maybe he lets go and pushes off benrey, panting and wild eyed, and the image of benrey on his stomach, his bite mark in his neck, is burned into his brain

> he just doesnt say fucking anything and just dips to get jacked off by the suit maybe.... cant stop thinking about how it felt to see benrey with his teeth marks....hates himself for feeling that sick satisfaction in his chest

benrey......touching the back of his neck afterwrds, kind of dream-like, both consciously and subconsciously.......

i like making gordon freeman suffer so i want him to just angrily try to rut against his arm in private later trying desperately to get off thru this stupid busted HEV suit that he cant get out of. pathetic. gordon freeman humping his own fucking arm in a bathroom stall. like a dog

and he thinks about how benrey smelled when he had his teeth clamped on the back of benreys neck, his nose buried right against benreys jaw and neck, smelling the sweat and the hormones and feeling benreys rapid heartbeat, and his whole fucking head throbs with how bad he wants to get off

> and he just cant get off....has to deal with going back the team tense and a bit sweaty and just move on when they ask what happened. benrey doesnt say anything just stares at him and gordon cant meet his eyes. gordon tries not to fucking let benrey get under his skin cause i think hes probably mad upset and embarassed that he reverted to his like,,,more base instincts because of BENREY of all people.....

> but he still thinks about it sometimes and....he tries to distance himself from him but hes still a pretty touchy guy and he find himself around benrey still....laughing at his jokes and getting in his space once in a while. always pulls himself away when he notices but not before he takes in a deep breath of benrey's scent...

> meanwhile benreys trying to think of how to make gordon do that shit again LOL

ohmy god. oh my god.....before this.....before he tries to stop getting in benreys business and before he even recognizes what hes doing.......he like.....hes so touchy feely that he subconsciously tries to mark benrey a lot. like just doing everything in his power to rub the inside of his wrists somewhere on him. even if its barely gonna do anything b/c of the suit. its just instinct

> NOW HE ...now he realizes that he was doing that the whole time..jesus,...

> AUGH....in the buildup before this he didnt realize that he was doing it........but now he realizes he fucking misses doing that shit and kind of berates himself for doing it in the first place....like what the fuck....be Normal gordon...you cant want to fuck him....do you..?

i want him to. grrgohg i dont even know how or why this would happen but i want gordon freeman to lie supine on the ground with his hands up like paws like hes a big pupy looking for tummy rubs OKAY! BYE. I HAVE TO GO. im going to fucking sob why am i like this why is this the cutest possible thing for a man to do. i cant even think of a fucking reason why he would do this so im so fucking embarrassed

i want to fucking. i want to rub his fucking tumy and make him pop a boner from it im literally so sick of this earth

> i was literally Just typing: i just think it would be cool . To pet his tummy and keep telling him "good boy" in a Certain kind of Tone that just totally fucks him up about it . maybe flushed and tongue starting to wanna hang out of his mouth as he goes from laying flat on his back to kinda twisted to one side, breathing heavy, tail thumping hard against the floor cause hes a big dog so that thing is like a lethal weapon

> petting the fuzzy lower belly while hes already hard & needy just to make him whine Very high pitched and desperate-sounding bc its so close to what he wants but that just makes it worse 8)

> What if. Benrey pinning Gordon, maybe scritches behind his ear, as a "joke", he's a dog haha good boy wants ear scritches?? And Gordon immediately squirming and whining. Maybe even kicking his leg just a little bit

> i think it would be cool for a post-black mesa puby gordon pinned benrey to the floor with his whole body weight and humped the life out of benrey's leg while panting and drooling in benrey's ear. a total lack of regard for benrey, (of course he's into it tho) just using him like an object that's conveniently there for him to furiously get off on

> i'm thinking.... this happening after a period of prolonged teasing, like you said. rubbing his tummy and ignoring his dick

> Man ok combined with the suit edging huh? I love that, but i also kinda want gordon to sneak off to get off and discover his uh. k. kn. knot

> he sneaks off and if in this situation he can.  idk. get at his dick in a bathroom or whatever. and well, he gets caught up so easily in his 'head empty' instincts mode that when he cums he's kneading that thang for like 2 minutes before he even becomes cognizant enough to notice. and then immediately panic. so idk maybe he cant get at himself for a while, right, so he didnt notice this

> i just think gordon being in the suit would not let him get at his dick and he would only be able to get off in really convoluted ways so like...he wouldnt fucking Know he had a knot he would just feel a weird pressure at the base that he doesnt know what its about. but he starts getting these fantasies of holding benrey down and staying in him when he comes and he doesnt know where the hell thats coming from.....yet. until after everything is over and he can get out of it, and the first time he jacks off again he realizes HOLY FUCK? like what the hell....but it makes sense in retrospect where those fantasies came from. but hes just super embarassed about those fantasies and pushes them down until benrey comes back into his life and activates him again

> in addition to embarassment i think he has a lot of complicated feelings about benrey and definitely feels a guilty about wanting to fuck him into the ground and fill him with cum....but GOD if benrey doesnt get to him just as much as he did in black mesa

> i think that something like this would be so unplanned and shit but like......theyve probably hung out a few times before this or more like maybe benrey has dropped into his house just to annoy him and gordon finds his ears pricking when he hears heavy footsteps around his house cause he recognizes them as benrey's...

> little rush of exhilaration maybe. cause it means they'll spend some time together and he has just all these emotions under his skin when they do. i dont know how this would happen but maybe gordon forgets to keep himself in check when benrey makes him laugh so hard he's snorting and his tail is wagging furiously.benrey tries to touch/catch his tail cause he's kinda curious about it and it never got to mess with it in black mesa. but it turns into roughhousing as gordon shoves him away a little bit but benrey keeps trying to get at it and then get at his ears

> "cmon man just let me touch them whats the big deal-" "NO!" but like hes still laughing a bit until they start really getting into it and he gets breathless and a little irritated at having to roll around and try to pin benrey's hands to the floor

hell on earth......the way his tails wagging and hes grinning and drooling a little once he gets benrey pinned.......

> little triumphant smile when he finally does.....got benrey on his stomach and he's subconsciously rutting against benrey's ass like in black mesa but hes just not noticing while he's berating benrey for losing

> talking right into his ear, and benrey lets out a little gasp when he does a particularly hard thrust and then hes like oh. fuck. he takes in a deep breath and can smell benrey's sweat and realizes hes just as horny about this as he is. cant help but bury his face in the back of his neck and lick. and benrey starts pushing back into him and talking the worst dirty talk and it makes him growl right against his neck and put his teeth there again as a warning not to move but benrey doesnt still, he just keeps talking. so gordon bites down, hard, cutting him off mid sentence with a yelp

f. fucking. benrey......arching his back into it.......pressing his hips up as high as theyll go......the angles bro.....the angles

> also: gordon popping boners more easily, even when he's just platonically excited w/ benrey..... yeah... :)

> like the thing about this is just that he got so excited from the wrasslin that he popped a boner....wasnt even thinking of horny.....

> not until benrey started gasping and arching back into him. then hes immediately aware of how this looks...like hes already basically in the position in his fantasies hes just rutting against him in the imitation of fucking

> gordon getting more frenzied by the little sounds benrey is making as he clamps down on his neck, drool dripping down his chin. benrey braces himself with one hand and gets the other to pull his pants down and then tug on the leg of gordon's down a bit because gordon is kind of. not thinking straight right now. gordon gets the message and fumbles with the buttons to get it down and like. haha i thinnk it would be fun if benrey prepped himself before this and gordon notices like. you really managed to prep urself this time? god, you really wanted this to happen. but maybe benrey had been doing it the last few times cause gordon would get in his space again sometimes and things were tense

NO GOD THIS IS GOOD. LIKE. oh my god gordon just like bitching at him and getting up in his face and Growling a couple times before while his pants are all tented from the inadvertent excitement boners that he doesnt even realize hes having.....and benrey might not be smart but hes not stupid

theres like a 50% chance theyre gonna fuck at any given time he realizes so like. why not......

even if it doesnt work out in the moment benrey still spends the whole time hopped up on the knowledge that they could have, that he was the little fucking pervert who got himself all prepped just in case gordon decided todays the day hes just gonna mount him, and honestly the way he beats his meat and fucks himself afterwards might be nearly as good as the real deal, just from that little bit of self-inflicted degradation

like u said...........he really wanted it to happen

> hhh.... maybe gordon ruts a bit against his ass and benrey guides him in and. he makes a deep growling rumble when he bottoms out. benrey feels it through his chest and gets a full body shiver as he's filled. i dont think hes fully developed his knot yet but its a tight fit. he starts fucking hard and fast into him while open mouthed panting, he cant keep his face away from the benrey's neck, licking up the sweat and burying his face there to breathe in his scent

the fucking . the desperation......every instinct in his body has been telling him to fuck benrey - yes, that benrey, fucking benrey - into the ground for......weeks now? months??

dudes probably tried everything he can think of to overcome it and to think about literally anything else when he gets off but nobody he fucks even comes close to smelling as good as benrey did when gordon had him pinned and gasping and sweating and he could smell the want rolling off him in waves.....and it sucks massive dick and he hates it

> hes been driven crazy by this thought for so long.....cant fucking control himself. wh. what if gordon managed to get a hold of a piece of benrey's clothes that he left and held it up to his face when he let himself jack off to this particular thought so he could get the scent but it jsut wasnt the same without his warm, panting body below him . he always nuts the hardest when he has it though

huffing benreys undershirt and desperately rutting into a pillow on his hands and knees with his ass fully up and hes just utterly debased right now

sad and pathetic gordon freeman humping his pillow like a dog and whining thinking about fucking benrey. if his past self could see himself like this right now he would be disgusted

> !!!!!!!!1 HIM GETTING INTO THE MOUNTING POSITION ON INSTINCT WHEN HE DOES IT...YOUR BRAIN ! i think that gordon would definitely give everything hes got to benrey when he finally gets to fuck him.

> now that hes actually doing it he's just out of his goddamn mind. benrey already being ready for him, slick and hot, just letting him push in .....i think he would definitely go insane

dudes never fucked so hard or so mindlessly in his life......for once all the neuroses just fly out the window. overcome by instinct

> letting out all these whines and moans, not even caring for how loud hes being... benrey's wanted this so fucking bad hes just eating it up, pushing back on him like an animal and getting a power trip that he made gordon this unhinged

thinking about him just being utterly shocked when benrey guides him in and he can just bury himself all the way to the hilt so easily and it makes something in his brain snap

> gordon doesnt even tell benrey when hes close, benrey can just start to feel his knot swell inside him and how it stretches him a bit past what he prepared for...but he wants it in him so fucking bad, he just lets gordon keep fucking into him

like. oh my god. does benrey even know about the knot or is this a brand new and fun surprise for him

> I DONT KNOW......I JUST REALLY LIKE THE THOUGHT OF HIM BEING A BIT CAUGHT OFF GUARD BY IT....

> being caught off guard by it but being so turned on by the feeling of it filling him that he lets out this really high, needy sound. which goes straight to gordon's dick and he just pushes into him harder and jolts his whole body with it. maybe he h....he bites down on the other side of his neck again and thrusts in one more time before coming deep in him. just shuddering from it, eyes squeezed shut and jaw locked around benrey

benrey just fuckin. face down ass up and arching his back as high as he can

(mumbling very quietly) it might be cool also if. gordon maybe.....started growling some things as he got close. a certain something. a word

you know......just......bent over benreys back......arms wrapped around benreys chest and fingers digging into the soft flesh (maybe even his titties, if youre feeling spicy).......pistoning his hips in staccato bursts while he growls.........u bh hhhhh......"mine". over and over not even realizing hes doing it b/c his brain is so fogged out on the sheer delight of rawing benrey after having thought about it non-stop

(mumbling so quietly im speaking at a pitch below the human hearing threshold) benrey hoarsely saying "'m yours, 'm yours" while hes got one hand jammed underneath himself to tug at his dick is the thing that sets gordon off and makes him come, perhaps. perhaps

and gordon just.....slumps over him, leaning his full body weight on him, panting weakly into his ear while his hips subconsciously rut just a little bit, arms still wrapped around benrey but otherwise as useless as a bump on a log while benreys jerking himself off to the wild new feeling of having that knot stretch him open and tug at him every time gordon shifts his hips

gordon nuts and becomes utterly useless but at least his knots still fat as hell so benreys still got something to work with

(sobbing) i just want to see men acting like animals leave me olone..... its about the submission to instinct......the degradation and dehumanization......and also the scent kink its all about the fucking scent kink. its about wanting to huff a guy you pretend you hate like hes a fucking magic marker and its about wanting to make him smell like u

> for scent kink, Gordon's boners due to sweaty benrey hehehehe. this is narsty -> Benrey is like "yeesh that was a lot of exertion" after their first almost-sex wrasslin match, and gets embarassed, so next time he like, wears a bunch of old spice.... but gordon doesn't get as excited. like yeah he can feel him against his back and yeah he's not soft but.. he's not panting or as hard. benrey thinks real hard when he gets home

> CLEAN SWEAT OK ITS A COMBATIBILITY THING OK. IT IS. LOOK UP THE SCIENCE OK I ...walks away. clown shoez

YOU ARE SO FUCKING CORRECT THANK U

> Maybe next time He doesn't bother with the old spice at all, and he gets real into the wrasslin... hell maybe he even uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh gets gordon's head under his arm im just saying

I DIDNT WANNA BE THE ONE TO SAY IT BUT NO YEAH THATS COOL. ITS A VERY COOL THOUGHT

think about......dogboy gordon roughhousing and getting pinned down himself and snapping his teeth up at benrey like joking but not joking. you know

they both start just getting really into roughhousing b/c sometimes gordons brain gets Stressed The Fuck Out by all the added stimulation to the senses of being pupy......theres too many sounds and smells sometimes and it makes him even more neurotic and makes him start acting up and getting irritable and trying to start shit until he exerts himself enough to tire his brain out and make it shut up

maybe even like.....in the interim after black mesa but before he runs into benrey again, gordon becomes a fucking hot mess b/c he doesnt know how to deal with it all and the only way he got thru black mesa without his brainstem snapping in half was b/c he and benrey would start shit and start fighting and wrestling and the rest of the science team eventually shrugged and accepted this as a (very weird) part of their life now. he looks like hes one minor inconvenience away from a panic attack and its so sad

any kind of physical exercise would help (he takes up jogging when hes feeling stressed out, which is a lot, and hes gotten some really nice legs by this point) but theres just something different about the roughhousing. its a mental exercise as well as a physical one, so it exhausts his brain more, and unbeknownst to him, he just gets fucking endorphins from the way benrey smells and from being able to mark him with all the up-close physical contact theyre getting. so. hence the wrestling and roughhousing and gordons occasional tendency to just pounce the guy in public and start fighting him with his tail wagging and thumping like crazy

it might be even better if gordon attempts to roughhouse with just about the whole science crew at some point, just for a point of comparison

like.....its usually good, its satisfying, and it wears him out and lets him function like a human being......but theres just something about roughhousing with benrey thats really satisfying and he doesnt have the emotional intelligence to figure out what it is

gordon freeman is an idiot, is what im saying

> tommy indulges him and probably lets him win a few times, coomer soundly wins out every time and bubby probably...loses some before getting pissy LOL. i think that its fun for him to get the most Good Feelings out of roughhousing with benrey.....

AUUUUGHHH WHAT IF HE LICKED BENREYS FACE THO

g gbfbhhh god im obsessed with the way benrey laughs at him and asks "what the fuck is wrong  with you?" in the act 3 commentary and thats the exact kind of vibe im feeling from him about like. everything gordon does in pupymode

> Okay, before I go to bed, I shall leave you with a Dog Thought™. Gordon probably wouldn’t be the “best trained” dog in the world because, well, he doesn’t have anyone to make him listen or obey. Heck, given his need to be in control, he probably thinks he’s the leader of the proverbial pack and nobody can tell him what to do. He’d probably slip and do quite a few “rude” and obnoxious dog things, including but not limited to being all over Benrey.

> Trying to goad him into roughhousing. Licking his face. Being in his space to the point that it even starts to make Benrey raise an eyebrow. Inappropriate marking and whatnot. [cough] And what if Benrey--in a weird reversal of the roles we usually give--is stuck with the task of… training Gordon… to behave…

> YOU KNOOOOW. Because pitting alpha dog Gordon against Benrey, who is trying to get him to be “good”...

> … Well, that could be interesting.

> Imagine if you will: Benrey realizing he needs to get Gordon under control. As much as he likes the attention, it's becoming too much. Relentless. Tables have been turned and now he's the one that's a little overwhelmed by the situation because, well, Gordon is running on pure instinct half the time. Making it hard to do things. Making it hard to live his life. Always in his bubble which was, like, fine at first but now he can't do anything without feeling a wet tongue on his face or having Gordon trying to goad him into rough housing.

> He needs so much attention. Has so much energy. It's too much.

> So, he decides he's going to try to "train" Gordon to not... do that. Benrey trying to assert dominance over Gordon, as if he were just a normal dog. Gordon, who has already marked Benrey and decided that Benrey belongs to him does not take to this very well. This is not how the chain of command works. This isn't how the chain of command works at all.

> Benrey, struggling to curb him through praise and admonitions--"good boy," "bad boy," tossing him ~treats~ if he does something right--is now facing off with Gordon, who is both enamored with the attention he's getting but utterly pissed off by the fact Benrey is trying to stop him from doing what he wants.

losing it at the tables being turned and now gordons the annoying fucker getting up in benreys business all the time and never leaving him alone. he deserves this

> They're basically both unmovable objects and unstoppable forces. Benrey is stubborn and isn't going to give up all his sweet PS3 time because Gordon won't stop humping his leg, and Gordon is not going to give up his God given right to make Benrey his property. But Benrey isn't completely averse to the idea of being Gordon's bitch. He just wants to be his bitch on his own terms.

> So, in a surprising show of... well, intelligence on Benrey's behalf, he starts redirecting Gordon's energy towards what HE wants Gordon to do.

> That's how you handle misbehaving dogs anyway. You redirect their energy. That's what all the books on dog training says anyway, and Benrey's inclined to believe it because he's read it in all two books on the subject he casually flipped through.

> So, when Gordon starts getting in his space, he starts redirecting him to touch where he wants touched. "Good boy." When Gordon starts getting a little rough, he purposefully positions himself so he gets the most out of it. "Good boy." When Gordon's licking his face, he starts trying to guide that tongue down to his neck. Feels better there. "Good boy."

> Because he's not a complete idiot. Him and Gordon both know this is sexually charged at this point. And Gordon... Gordon can bend his behaviors a little bit as he's being directed if he still gets to do what he wants (in a way), and Benrey still gets to be fondled by the nerd.

> "But part of the problem is that he is in Benrey's space all the time!" Yeah, but Benrey figured that out, too. You know what shuts up Gordon real fast? Pushing him back down on the other end of the couch and telling him to stay. And if he listens, he slowly, carefully hand feeds Gordon a treat as a reward. Pushing it into his mouth, making sure it goes all the way in. Letting Gordon lick the last bits of taste off of his fingers. He usually sits still after that. "Good boy."

i have a thought thats almost unrelated but im so desperate to give this scenario the proper context

thinking about......gordon getting out of black mesa and hes still dogboy.....and hes attempting to go back to life as normal now that benreys out of his hair for ever but one day his pupy nose catches That Fucking Smell on the air and he realizes that benreys not fucking dead. he thought benrey was fucking dead, b/c he killed him

gordon freeman losing his mind for a solid week or two trying to hunt that smell down (why?? to prove a point?? to try to kill benrey again??? uh huh.) and then when he does hunt benrey down, its like.....well, what was the plan, bud? you found him, and now youre having a staredown outside a 7/11 while benreys frozen halfway through his big gulp

i literally forgot what i was typing b/c dogy gordon tum y rub b gtfhgbb ggfabgbbg

and.....well......he doesnt know exactly what his game plan was, but he does know that benrey cant be trusted as far as u can throw him, and hes not about to let benrey wreak havoc on new mexico if he can help it, so now his new hobby is......tracking benrey across the city to keep an eye on him

and thats how they keep ending up in close proximity

and thats how u start looping in the whole role reversal thing.....suddenly gordons the one that benrey cant shake......hes a bloodhound and hes got the scent

SORRY im SORRY i crave context with the same ferocity that i crave, like, air

and then they start roughhousing when gordon tackles him to the ground one day to stop him from doing.....something......and gordon snaps being to being a normal person so quickly afterwards that its dizzying. turns out a solid 80% of what he really wanted was a sparring buddy

> good afternoon everyone this is not horny in the slightest but i just wanted to say- you know that thing dogs do where they get REALLY excited and playful when you come home from a long day at work? well i’m just thinking about. y’know how benrey has a tendency to just, vanish for a while and come back like nothing happened? think it’d be cute if he were gone for a particularly long stretch of time b4 catching up with the science team again and gordon RESPONDS in his typical annoyed, bratty fashion while his body language is saying something completely different (he still hasn’t mastered the art of puby)

> like, u know, tail wagging a hundred miles a minute, ears perked up and attentive, subconsciously getting all up in benrey’s space

Im going to Cry thats so fucking cute wtf wtf  wt ff

still going insane thinking about the “good boy” thing......like...... its all fun and games until hes grappling his best friend benrey and hes got benrey in a headlock and hes plastered against benreys back from head to toe and his tails thumping excitedly against the floor and hes panting hot and harsh right against benreys ear and benrey takes that moment, right there, to choke out "good boy"

its half outright horny and half power play b/c benreys banking that either theyre gonna fuck or gordons gonna let go and be like "what the fuck, man" and then benrey can get the drop on him again

the way gordon just goes stiff after he says it.....breath getting shaky.....dick twitching once against benreys ass and the guy can fucking feel it clear as day......Augh

his tail slows.....and then fires right back up again when he tentatively rocks his hips against benreys ass and feels the sound benrey makes more than he hears it......and like for fucks sake theyve been dancing around how horny their roughhousing sessions are for weeks, this guy deserves to finally get his rocks off by dry humping benreys ass while benreys getting spots in his vision from how tightly gordons got his arm wrapped around his neck. he deserves this

gordons free hand slowly opening up and pressing flat against benreys shirt, then crawling under it so that he can feel the bare skin of his stomach......rocking his hips against the dip between benreys cheeks and whimpering when benrey says it again, breathless and hoarse. "good boy." his tongue poking out to lick a broad, wet stripe up the side of benreys neck to taste the salt and sweat and the hormones, jesus christ, hes never been able to taste if somebodys horny before but its rolling off of him in waves.......and gordons breath comes out so loud and harsh and desperate when benreys leg lifts up a little bit for him to slot his own between them more easily

just mumbling stupid horny shit like "fuck benrey, you taste so good" while his tongue lolls out of his mouth and he licks the curve of benreys ear and rolls benrey onto his stomach b/c something in the back of his brain is whispering to him that it would be a really, really good idea, and hes originally got benrey just crushed flat against the floor with his full body weight but benrey takes a rattling breath and tells him to ease up, get up offa him.....

and gordons confused at this point b/c he was pretty sure this was where this was going, he was being a good boy, but that thought doesnt last very long b/c benreys shuffling into position under him, raising his hips and pushing gordons up with him while his face and torso are flat against the floor, and, Oh. hes. hes doing that. this is what theyre fucking doing now

> gordon taking the collar of benrey’s shirt in his mouth in an crude imitation of scruffing him

every fucking bone in gordons body is telling him to move his hips, fuck benrey stupid, bury himself to the hilt, but he cant do that when theyre both still clothed so he does the next best thing and ruts against benrey like he fucking means it and like if he just tries hard enough, gets enough friction, itll be just like fucking him for real......

hes so dizzied by looping thoughts of he wants this, he wants you to mount him, like youre a filthy fucking animal, arent you? you sick fuck, you wanna mark him and breed him and hed let you, hed beg you for it, look, hes doing it right now and when he comes back down to earth, yeah, benrey is begging right now, isnt he. while hes palming at the front of his sweatpants and whimpering and calling gordon a good boy, attempting to tug his pants down to his knees so gordon can rut against bare flesh, and gordon slows down just enough to let him do it and to fumble open his own zipper to ease some of the agonizing pressure

gordon fumbling his dick out of his underwear to line it up between benreys fat cheeks and god, the feeling of skin against skin is so much fucking better than chafing against his jeans that it makes him growl against benreys neck and benrey cant pump his fucking dick fast enough. hes so encouraging, what with all those little sounds hes making and the way hes arching his back and pressing his hips up as high as theyll go, groaning into the crook of his arm "fuckin, fuck me, bro, j-just like that"

> thinking...... they both get so lost in it, they both can’t hold back long enough to fuck for real. this is too hot, benrey feels something hot and wet on his ass and gordon is curling into him. benrey’s never felt so simultaneous turned on and frustrated that he’s still empty, he’s still gonna have to wait, snd ironically that denial pushes him over too

GOD yes fuckin. coming on his ass b/c gordons so frantic and desperate that he cant wait...... but seeing his cum all over benreys ass is deeply satisfying in its own way. he smears it deep into benreys skin to mark him like that

> oh hey imma be nasty sorry but Gordon all cum-high just sort of manouvering Benrey until he can start licking his cock clean bc he likes to uh. i mean benrey's all wet and you know. he likes it. and benrey comes from that, before he can even think about sucking him off properly

> he doesnt have a thought left in his head at the moment... and can u blame him? so he just uh follows he nose.......  and benrey's brain is deleted except for "GORDON FREEMAN ON MY DICK????????" bouncing around like a screensaver yes

> yeah he's not even trying to suck him off really, hes not gotten that far yet cuz hes so cumbrained, gone stupid, etc

im gonna be gross here too okay......and like. fucking. huffing and burying his nose into the crook of benreys thighs b/c he smells so intensely like sex and sweat and it makes gordon lightheaded

> YEAAH maybe he starts licking there before he gets up to his dick. it's not like he's dragging it out really so it's not long but benrey's gaping like a fish. he's trying to say something sorta but he can't get any words out and isn't even sure what he himself is trying to say

maybe he cant help himself and he just starts licking and biting on impulse b/c its your resident fuckin thigh guy here and i think benrey deserves to get em chomped like a drumstick

> and then that's gordon's tongue on his dick, bro and this neurotic mf looking so pleased and blissed out as he sloppily licks him all over is a sight he couldn't have even cooked up in his imagination before now

> benrey not coherently enough to warn him he’s like right there, his babbling incoherently at the tease of gordon’s nose and lips is gonna make him- and then his Tounge darts out and it’s over, the start of the end and he’s spurting all over gordon’s completely surprised face without even being jerked or licked through it

> maybe since gordon's been so stressed and keyed up for so long that benrey coming is a surprise but still doesn't shock him enough to clear the cumbrain, so he licks ben clean after that too, while he's twitching and whimpering etc

> think that benrey massive meat being useless and barely even touched is hip and rad even in the context of him technically being in the higher position of power

> then rests his head on beny's belly for a while, feeling very accomplished and tired. he'll panic later, don't worry

god im still thinking about. pillow humping/voyeurism

gordon freemans a bad fucking dog and sometimes he cant help himself and just starts rutting into a pillow with his ass up and his face buried in one of benreys undershirts while hes just panting and mumbling shit the whole time about benrey, benrey, benrey, why is he so fucking obsessed with benrey and with thinking about mounting him just like hes doing to his poor abused pillow every week

and. you know. maybe one day......benrey kind of.....catches him in the act. i think that would be cool. just coming home one day and cracking open his bedroom door and seeing gordon freeman on all fours, his teeth sunk deep into one pillow and another pillow between his thighs, desperately fucking it while hes groaning benreys name b/c he sure as shit was not expecting him back that early, which is why his cumbrain made him feel confident enough to crawl into benreys bed and roll around in it and mainline benreys scent from his clothes and nut on his pillow (and then feel fucking bad about it and frantically try to clean it off)

and benrey just slooowly steps back with his heart pounding out of his chest for possibly the first time in his whole life b/c he did not think gordon freeman ever wanted to fuck him, but here he is, using benreys pillow as an imitation of the real thing and jerking off in his bed

just turns right the fuck back around and goes into the bathroom and splashes some water on his face and stares down at his sudden boner

THANKS FOR READING ALL OF THIS B/C THIS ISNT EVEN GETTING INTO THE PISS STUFF THAT WEVE OBVIOUSLY BEEN THINKING ABOUT. SORRY FOR BEING LIKE THIS