#i never know if those emojis will also be blue for people using different phones so just pretend it's aesthetically pleasing okay?

[keridraco]

💙🚙🦋💎🦕

[lliinnkk]

I guess this is a fanfic?

I made a little thing inspired from Yuri's rain scene in his route, which you may be able to tell is arguably my favourite scene in the whole game. I haven't written anything in at least 5 years so I am out of practise and this is kind of just a rough draft but I wanted to put this out there anyway, especially since the tag is so dead :3 I could've continued it a bit more and I might do but I like the place I left it.

Since its an au from my daydreams tho, the main character is different and there are themes of paranoia/trauma

Please enjoy :)

I haven't titled yet but I guess I'll just call it Rain.

A long day at school meant a well-deserved lazy evening in bed. Faith could be found none other than under the covers, consumed by endless scrolling. Lights off and stomach full, a pause in the music from her headphones led Faith to notice her bedroom window. The curtains open, late September had turned the wind brutal and the skies dull. A thunderous sound accompanied the rioting of the orange leaves. It was raining. How long had she been in bed for exactly?

She sat up simply staring at the window for a moment, thanking no god in particular that she was safely indoors. Her thoughts hurried to the dolls, who were all out there somewhere, so she sent each a text to ask if they all had umbrellas. The thought of any of them being trapped in that havoc turned her stomach.

Before the bottled water could be raised to her lips came Lance's response. He was busy with his duties as the discipline guide and has already checked the weather forecast long in advance so the smartass had taken an umbrella when he left for school that morning. Who knows how many worst case scenarios he's already prepared a thousand solutions for?

Faith wasn't sure if the room had always been this chilly. The next reply came through as her head finally poked through the top of a fluffy white jumper: Tei apologised that he'd be home late from work again today, saying that the manager would lend him an umbrella. Yeonho was also dining at the cafe Tei worked at with some friends who offered to walk him home. Although Faith knew his friends to have overstepped a few boundaries, she trusted Yeonho wasn't so naive as to bring these people right to their doorstep. Maybe.

It was entertaining to mindlessly play with the settings on the bedside lamp. Bright and dim, flashing, fading, in and out. Forwards and backwards through the rainbow. Pink. Purple. Blue. Green. Yellow. Orange.

Red's reply came cheerily, explaining that the drama club members would walk home together, sharing coats and umbrellas and hats. It was cute the way he signed off with an emoji.

The droplets drummed against the glass, creating a methodical pattern of swirls and dots and lines. Fingers painted the transparent canvas with cats, dogs, stick men with top hats. The smiley face drooped and the whole artwork seemed to cry. Was the stick woman aware that her hair and her clothes and her body and her face were all crafted from tears and watery blackness?

The phone kept ringing. Perhaps if she kept ringing Yuri would reply eventually. Ringing and ringing and ringing. To admit, it wasn't strange for Yuri not to reply. He frequently came home late, spoke to strange women and showed off money from an unknown source. Everyone was used to his disappearances by now but Faith just couldn't shake the feeling that this might be the last time he disappears.

Time stood still yet raced ahead fast as light simultaneously. Pushing down those thoughts certainly wasn't an unfamiliar task, nor was it a pleasant one. Those thoughts of all the different ways you could lose everything you've ever loved all in the blink of an eye. Those thoughts of fighting, screaming, pleading, bleeding. Those thoughts of all the worst things happening all over again. Those thoughts of being left alone, all over again. All over again.

She turned the music up.

Escapism was the answer but it never lasted forever. Thoughts disappeared but feelings remained. Faith itched. She couldn't sit still. By the time the next song started, she found herself dressed at the door, armed with two umbrellas and a weapon.

Again, she welcomed the soft feelings of dread and anxiety, a dull ache she felt in her chest every time she went outside.

She turned the music up.

The rain didn't feel totally real, she thought, nestled under the clear round shelter of the umbrella. It was a small thing. Eyes fixed downwards at soaked feet, dodging hurriedly through roadside puddles. In truth, Faith wasn't even sure she could get to her destination if she was only staring downwards but this didn't seem to be a problem as her feet marched on determinedly, fully independent from the rest of her body.

Her world felt tiny, compressing, crushing her deep into herself. Distant from her body, she couldn't move, couldn't stop moving. Autonomous feet. Thoughts. Fear. Rain. Always rain.

She turned the music up.

Faith arrived at school. For a second, her body allowed herself to stop moving. She only noticed now that she was trembling all over. She left a damp trail up the stairs. It wasn't any warmer indoors.

Of all places, Yuri should be here. Pray to no god in particular if you're ever to look for him wherever the hell he goes to after school.

The volume couldn't possibly go up any higher. She turned the music up.

Uncertain of whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, Faith finally stood face to face with the music room door. She took her headphones off. The storm behind her hadn't calmed. She couldn't hear anything.

Is Yuri in that room? Maybe he is. Even if he is, what if he's not ok? Will opening this door welcome the sight of blood and tears and pain? Had Yuri gotten in a car accident on the way home? Was he mugged? Assaulted? Murdered? Kidnapped? All of the above?

This is stupid. That stuff didn't happen. Yuri's probably having the time of his life at a wild party right now. All this because of some rain? Seriously? It's just rain at the end of the day. There's only so much rain can do to you.

But if it's just rain then why isn't he answering? What could he possibly be doing with his phone on without answering the calls? It'd make more sense if he was at a party but considering the time, he couldn't have left school yet. Yuri is unpredictable and unexplainable but he takes his job as a teacher seriously and wouldn't be so irresponsible to run off and play.

He has to be in this room.

Frozen in place. What's beyond that door? Does Faith even want to see it? If she were so weak, she could go home right now, never to face the horrid truth awaiting. She could throw everything away, kill everyone and then herself, just to prevent them from witnessing the bloodbath shielded only by a plank of wood.

But what would be the point of coming? What's the point of thinking these thoughts if never to confirm their stupidity yourself? After all, whatever's beyond the door will still be there whether you witness it yourself or not.

There's no other choice. Gulping down a heaping portion of dread, Faith pushes open the door.

A tidal wave of relief morphs into shame. Warm golden light spills out, illuminating the scene of a man in an elegant black suit playing a grand piano against the rain's dreary dark backdrop. Slender fingers dance across white keys in precision, beautiful face caught in a focused expression, stopping every now and then to edit a page of sheet music. Peace.

An eternity passed by in a single second as Faith took in the view but she shied away from it to kneel off to the side where she couldn't be seen. The grip she holds on her weapon burns her hand. So stupid. Why is she here? She's lived in a much safer world now for so long yet she still isn't used to it.

No matter how much she fights for the present, the past can't change. She lost so much and still can't accept it.

A pause in the piano playing led Yuri to notice the open door. A quiet sound hid itself amongst the thunderous rioting of the rain. Someone was outside. How long had he been playing for exactly?

He turned the music off.

I hope you enjoyed reading!!! I had a lot of fun writing this and am so proud of it!!! ^^

[ihailey]

Seven Years Later

It's been seven years since you left this world and the people who loved you. I had forgotten and I woke up to my best friend's text message saying today was the day and you are always with me.

I was taken back by her message because I would've never thought she would remember such a day that meant so much to me; and she did. I always thank the universe for her but today meant more than ever to me.

I want to go back in time and talk about our time together before you left the world.

I remember the first moment I met you; our mothers were acquaintances in highschool and your father stopped my father from getting into a fight in highschool. Fast forward to mid/late 2000's and our mothers decide to get together with all of us kids and we didn't know each other. I remember being nervous to meet you guys.

I laugh about how we met; you and your siblings on the stairs and my brothers and I walked in the door with my mother and our mothers introduced all of us to each other lmao. I don't remember what happened right afterwards but I do remember when I first saw you, I felt like I knew you from a different lifetime. I also had an instant huge crush on you; my first crush as a kid.

as we got older and hung out more, social media starting to rise in the world. Facebook was the first thing we added each other on. We'd share memes to each other and post on each others fb walls. Then we got our own cell phones. I don't know what you had, but my first cell phone was the enV3 maroon and I still remember my number.

we started to text a LOT and around that time, we were 13/14 years old. I remember when we admitted our feelings for each other. It was the best feeling at the time when I learnt you actually liked me back. When we hungout around that time, we had our first kiss. Then the next time we hungout and did hide and seek, you kissed me in the bushes 🥰 ever since, I have loved you.

as we got older, we talked on and off and stopped hanging out for some odd reason. I miss our deep conversations about life and us expressing our love for each other. I have never felt that way about anyone but you. I remember your love; so warm and tender. You made me feel I was wanted in my life when at the time no one cared about me. I will always miss you random text messages out of the blue just to make me smile. You said I was your best friend and the love of your life, your soulmate. I remember we talked about trying to date when we were done with college. I said yes, I would wait for you.

The only regret I have is when I was an angsty teenager and the times you would text me and I would ignore you or be so cold at times because I was going through shit. It was never your fault, and for that I am so sorry. But yet, you still loved me and were patient with me. You were truly one of a kind. I miss going to the gas station down the road just to see you working there and whenever you'd see me, you had the biggest smile on your face and saying "hi hailey!" and then texting me afterwards saying you were so happy to see me. What would I do to have those days back with you.

I liked the fact that you were interested in my interests; like astrology was a big thing for me at the time and it still is. When I found out you were a Sagittarius like me, it all made sense to why we never actually dated even though we would die for each other. I laugh about it but at the same time I wish we would've just tried dating then and there.

The last text messages I got from you will always haunt me. This was three days before you died.

you: I got a car! me: oh cool! what kind of car is it? you: :/ me: no, tell me. what kind of car did you get? and that was the last of it. why? why did you leave it as that? why did you reply that emoji to me? This is so fucking haunting and I swear to god I have a theory about this. Either you had an epiphany, or some precognition or some vision that you were going to die soon.

When I found out you got into a car accident because you were speeding and crashed full force into a tree at night and heard that you died and were resuscitated 3 times on the scene before being FLIGHTED to one of the best hospitals in New Jersey. I cried so fucking hard. I didn't know what to think. The love of my fucking LIFE, my soulmate, my best friend, dying. I wanted to go see you so fucking bad in the hospital but I wasn't allowed. I was so pissed off, upset, scared. All I wanted to do was hold your hand and talk to you hoping you'd come back like that in the movies.

On March 23rd, I was reading your mom's facebook post about you in the hospital about your brain activity. I felt a huge warm hand touch my left shoulder. I turned around and no one was there. I knew that was you. I didn't want to believe you were already dead. March 25th, you were pronounced dead with no brain activity by the doctors and I heard my mother wail like I never had in my entire life. She told me you died and I cried with my mother and you know I don't like her. She was crying for me because she knew I fucking loved you.

Seven years later and I don't think about you anymore. Maybe once in a blue moon you'll pop into my mind. the pain is completely numb and you stopped visiting me in my dreams. That doesn't mean I don't love you anymore, because I do love you. All I can do is talk about you and talk to you when i'm by myself. All I can do is hope I will see you in the next lifetime or in the afterlife. BUT you will ALWAYS hold a special place in my heart. Always. You showed me what a good man would treat me, and what true love should be like, as well as a great best friend and I only have you to thank for that. My heart will always have a void that will never be filled, that was meant for you and you only. All I have are memories.

James, I love you, and I will always love you for eternity, in the millions of lifetimes until the universe is no longer a thing.

[avenging-fandoms]

OMG! Friends to lovers with “ If I don't kiss you right now I might die” with Rafe please love 💕 💕

friends to lovers with ''if i don't kiss you right now i might die'' vibes

- project buddy, college!rafe (fluff)

OUTER BANKS MASTERLIST

*college!rafe is so much more different than the rafe we actually see. enjoy very soft rafe!!<3 -- "what do i wear to a study session with my partner, but also say that this might be a date on his boat?" you asked yourself as you stared at your closet, moving pieces of clothes and mumbling to yourself.

yn: rafe, i’m gonna be honest. i’ve never been on a boat before. what do i wear?

rafe: Let me ask my sister.

rafe: She said jeans and a shirt. I normally wear a polo and shorts. It’s really up to you.

yn: okay, thank you! can’t wait for later :)

you picked out a few things, then stuck with a nice flowy top and jeans with sandals, complimented with a jean jacket. you thought about it being cold on the water, on a boat, so you thought your jacket would be good.

you grabbed your things and headed into your car, letting rafe know you were on your way and he replied with a smiling emoji. rafe was different than what you've heard of.

your roommate's boyfriend told you rafe was a dick, and that he was a rich asshole who bragged all the time, but you never saw it. you only hung out with him once, but you would think he would've bragged the first time he spoke to you.

you parked your car and rafe stood down at the end of his backyard. you smile and take out your phone, texting rafe to turn around. rafe turned to look over his shoulder and smiled, jogging over to you.

"hi stranger" rafe smiled and gave you a hug, and you couldn't help but blush. rafe smelled like expensive cologne and just a hint of weed, and you could keep your nose in his neck for hours. "so i figured i could take you around the water, show you a few things then we can dock in the middle of the water and study?" rafe asked as you two walked towards the dock.

"sounds like a perfect date. uh, study date" you smile as your cheeks turn red, rafe getting onto the boat first, taking your bag then holding out his hand. your hand fit well into his, his skin rough but smooth on the palm as he helped you onto the boat.

rafe's hand held your waist as you stepped over the side of the boat, slipping a bit but rafe caught you. you inhale sharply and grip rafe's shirt, and he chuckled softly. "i got you, don't worry" his words were calming, and you tap his chest as you pull away. "feel free to look around, i'm going to get things going"

you nod and run your hand over the railing, leaning over and staring at the view as rafe untied the boat and started the engine. you went over to where rafe was, standing next to him and looking out at the water.

the sun reflected off the water and you shielded your eyes, not even realizing you were leaning against rafe as he drove the boat slowly in a circle around the water.

after a half an hour of him bringing you around, rafe stopped the boat in the middle of the water and you two sat on the chairs with the little table in between. you unlock your phone, but you had no signal.

"rafe, there's no service out here so we can't do our project" you look at him and he shrugs, sucking air through his teeth.

"guess we'll just have to chill here. the project isn't due for a week anyway, we can just hang out" rafe smiled and you chuckle, shaking your head. "so, where'd you grow up?"

you and rafe talked until the moon was high above you two in the sky, and you two just talked about one another's lives. "it's nearly midnight, rafe. i think i should head back to my dorm"

"so soon?" rafe winked and you smiled, shaking your head. "dance with me real quick" rafe put on some john mayer and you blush as he holds out his hand. you grab it and stand up, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"rafe.. can i tell you something?" you picked your head up and looked at him, your nose barely touching him. "i've heard things about you"

"oh?" he spun you slowly and brought you back into his arms, and you felt a wave of butterflies in your stomach. "and what have you heard, gorgeous?"

"that you're the complete opposite to who you are right now" you answer and look up at rafe whose mouth was in a line. "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have-"

"i am different around different people" rafe spoke and you look up at him, pushing your fingers in between his with the other hand on his shoulder. "i'm an asshole around those guys because their fathers are some professors and i want a leg up, even though i do my work"

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have said anything" you shake your head but he touches your chin softly, making you look up at him.

"do you think i'm an asshole?" rafe asked softly, and you licked your lips softly, eyes meeting his. his eyes were more blue than the water, and you could drown in them.

"i think you're an asshole for not kissing me" you whisper and he smirks, holding the back of your neck as he kissed you. you immediately grabbed his face, your lips moving slowly against his.

rafe was gentle, until you initiated more. you let out a breath through your nose and pushed your body against him, pushing him against the wall of the boat and tugging at his shirt. rafe smiled and grabbed your hands, and pulled away slowly.

"maybe another time, sweetheart. it's late. are you sure you don't want to sleep over?" you shook your head and he kissed you quickly before bringing the boat back to shore.

you leaned over the edge of the boat, dragging your fingers through the water and rafe couldn't keep his eyes off of you. he docked the boat and did everything to tie it up, then helped you off onto the dock.

"we didn't get any work done tonight" you spoke and rafe shrugged again, and you smile as you lean against your car. rafe's arm pressed against the top of your window, looking down at you. "are you free to study tomorrow?"

"i'll always have free time for you, sweetheart" rafe spoke and you grab his shirt, pulling him down to kiss you. there was something intoxicating about his kiss, and you never wanted it to stop. "get home, sweetheart. i'll text you in the morning"

"goodnight, rafe" you whisper and he kisses you once more before heading towards his front door. he waited for you to leave before he went inside.

you flopped on your bed with a smile, pushing your shoes off and taking your jacket off. your phone buzzed and you pulled it out of your pocket, smiling from ear to ear.

rafe: I thank the stars and the professor we were put together. I never want us to finish this project. Good night, or good morning, yn. I'll see you tomorrow.

yn: we can make up our own projects, rafe. i never want this to end. good night handsome

[isagisyoichi]

YOU MAKE ME FEEL SPECIAL!

SYNOPSIS: niko as your boyfriend

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: niko ikki aka my boyfriend hello

WARNINGS: swearing, pretend all the boys go to the same school and they're all friends for plot, normalize not writing serious boys as someone that practically hates their s/o and never opens up to them god bless, also no such thing as ooc since we dunno shit ab him so everything i say is law. SUPER LONG LOL, it's like 2k+ words 😭

A/N: i love my boyfriend and i'm v happy about all the attention he's getting (even if he will prob will b subbed out 👎) this was fun to write bc i think he would b very soft as bf and also i hate the notion that stoic and serious = boring and detached in a relationship. also first post w the new user yayyyy rip yoichisagis an end of an era for realsies.

FOR: fox anon my beloved this one is for u😩

it takes a while for you two to get together, just because niko wants to think things through and be sure he’s making the right decision, as well as him being naturally apprehensive about this whole dating thing.

when you do eventually start going out, keep in mind you're probably his first real anything, so-

niko needs to take it slow for the first month or so because he needs time to adjust and get used to being in a relationship.

when he gets comfortable around you, niko starts to talk a lot more.

niko starts to talk about his interests more-soccer, stem stuff (idc i'll die by my hc that he's a stem boy), etc. and niko's really happy that you're genuinely interested in what he has to say :)

and as your relationship progresses, niko becomes more inclined to share his inner thoughts.

“this song is so bad, i hate it and how it's everywhere,” like, babe that sucks, but what do you want me to do, take it off the radio myself? 😭

you find out that niko’s kind of a hater LOL, but it’s okay, because it means he can be himself around you <3 and the mini debates you have with each other are fun.

he’s someone you can take shopping with you if you need a solid second opinion.

“ikki, is this cute?” you niko as you adjust the shirt you tried on in the fitting room mirror.

“no.” he’s so straight up LOL. “the blue one from earlier was better.”

“this one?”

“yeah, that one. you look really pretty in it.”

ngl though, niko’s not much of a mall person. he'd just follow you around like a little puppy LOL, but he doesn't mind too much because it's for you.

communication is important to niko!!!!! he wants someone that he can have real conversation about the things that matter to him, so he rly makes an effort to have that kind of connection with you.

niko's naturally funny but he isn't aware that he is lol.

but when he does try, i feel like his humor comes in the form of sarcasm and dry wit. likes poking fun at you here and there with a lighthearted jab.

"you're so weird, y/n," is the most common one.

niko’s naturally closed off emotionally (male aquarius 😒) but i, personally, think he’d really try and push himself to be more open with you, especially if you expressed for him to do so </3

he'd be really appreciative of someone patient and understanding of the fact that he doesn't open up easily, though.

but eventually, you become the person closest to him- niko confides in you a lot, which he’s grateful for because he usually holds everything in.

not one for pda or other lovey-dovey things in public, other than the occasional holding of hands but behind closed doors, niko’s so soft around you, it’s like he’s a completely different person.

also, i feel like niko’s real handsy with you, i get the vibe he’s super touch starved 😭

although it does take him a while to get used to physical affection, once he has, niko cannot get enough. he’s always touching you when he has no real reason to.

(and because you're his first relationship, i feel like it’s just natural that niko’s going to be kind of clingy towards you.)

“you okay, ikki?” you ask as niko suddenly wraps his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“mhm,” he mumbles. “just wanna be close to you.”

niko likes when you sit on his lap when he’s on his computer. you can have your arms wrapped around his neck, your head resting in the crook of his neck, or you could just be on your phone or whatever, it doesn’t matter, niko just likes you near him.

you guys don’t really talk to each other when you do this, aside from niko occasionally checking up on you and asking if you need anything from him.

but other than that, you guys just enjoy each other's touch in silence. it’s one of his favorite things to do with you.

however, if you start kissing him in the middle of whatever he’s doing and keep it up for long enough, niko will drop everything to make out with you right then and there (also one of his favorite things to do with you).

speaking of kissing- you kiss niko first.

niko would try to plan your guys first kiss out because he wants everything to be perfect.

but, he ends up taking forever to execute it because he keeps overthinking and you can only wait so long before kissing him, so you take matters into your own hands.

his kisses are sloppy and juvenile at the beginning, but he’s smart and learns quickly what you do and don’t like.

likes being kissed on his jaw and forehead the most :')

if the team ever happens to see niko kissing you, they're gonna be so annoying 😭

"yooo niko's making big moves ‼️" "my son's growing up on me!😩" "good job *pats on the back*" and niko is red all over as he drags you away from them, muttering about how childish and annoying they are 😭.

but, they're all very supportive of you guys, even if they're embarrassing as hell 🙄.

they even give niko relationship advice- which luckily, he doesn’t follow (most of the time), because, let’s be honest, if you're getting unsolicited dating tips from a bunch of teenage boys, it’s probably bad 😭.

you’re the only person niko shows his forehead to. just know that having the opportunity to see it means that niko trusts you more than anyone else :’)

repay his trust by kissing his forehead lovingly and showering him with compliments whenever you can !!!!!!!!!!

“y/n, why’re you so embarrassing,” niko says under his breath, blushing as you hold his face and litter soft kisses on his forehead, rambling about how cute he is.

always looks for you in the bleachers when he has a game and you’re always the first person he talks to after.

and the fact that you make an effort to come as often as you can means sooo much to him. definitely considers you to be his biggest fan.

real classy with nicknames- uses “my love/love,” and “darling,” the most.

his favorite petname from you is "pretty boy." gives him butterflies each time he hears it.

the first time you call him that, he's confused, but after you explain that being called pretty is basically the highest compliment a boy can receive, he gets all soft on you.

only uses instagram to like and comment on your pictures and that's it 😭.

comments stuff like “you're so pretty” and "beautiful," without any emojis because niko refuses to use them LOL.

remembers the compliments you give him! they help with his self esteem and i feel like he values your opinion a lot.

so, tell him all about how cute and smart and talented and hot and funny he is and how much you love him and he'll replay it in his head 24/7.

i think he prefers to be the big spoon, unless he's sad- then he really wants you to hold him.

niko gives me homebody vibes, so expect relaxed dates, but still nice, yk?

what i mean is niko's not gonna take you out to get gas station food and call it a day 😭 he's classier than that and he always puts in effort towards dates.

he always plans them ahead of time and takes into consideration what he thinks you'd enjoy. and he insists on paying 🤗.

but, niko always does something special for days like your birthday or an anniversary, like go somewhere fancy if you wanted to or buy a nice gift you've been eyeing for a while.

helps you with your schoolwork, 100%. most of the time niko tutors you because he wants you to actually learn the material, but if you're feeling lazy and just wanna get it over with, niko will just give you the answers.

this is a big deal because i love him and all but, niko gives me the vibe he's super stingy with his work 😭.

"this is the last time i'm going to just give you the answers, y/n." niko sighs out. "you have to start doing your homework by yourself."

niko's said that dozen of times but he's still giving you the answers free of charge. can you guys say #whipped 🤣?

LOL speaking of school, if you ever text him during class, i highly doubt that niko would entertain you 😭😭 (it's out of love, though)

y/n 💗: hiii baby imy 🥰

pretty boy: do your work, y/n.

y/n 💗: ALL I DID WAS SAY HI

pretty boy: pay attention.

y/n 💗: fine ur so lame 👎

pretty boy: whatever you say. i miss you too, by the way.

he likes to moves your hair out your face because he wants to see your pretty face better.

which is why you have to do the same with him 🥰!!!!!! makes him blush like crazy.

gets soooo soft when you post him or even take pictures of you and him together :') just the thought of you wanting to show him off makes him soooo happy.

he won't entertain you if you make a tiktok, though LOL. he's very stubborn in his belief that it's stupid.

just stands in the background with his arms crossed if you try to make him do a dance or something 😭 (he does think you look cute, though).

niko has such nice eyelashes but i doubt he's aware of it 'cause he's, y'know, a boy 🙄.

"my eyelashes are ... cute?" he questions. niko wasn't even aware that such a trivial thing like his eyelashes could be considered cute.

"yes, oh my god," you gush. "they're so long and nice, i wish mine were like that," you groan, examining yours through the camera of your phone.

"you're so weird, y/n," he says, a blush staining his cheeks. "your eyelashes are nicer," he mumbles as he kisses your forehead.

he's one of those people that prefers to be alone, but you're the exception. you know?

niko likes to keep to himself most of the time, but that whole thing doesn't apply to you, because he'd choose to be with you over being alone anytime :')

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed iv, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): est. poly relationship – jungkook x reader x yoongi

summary: Your boyfriends woke up and chose violence. Excuse me, Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi? Do you really think you can post one after another on Twitter, send the world into heart palpitations, and not expect your girlfriend to do something about it? Hmm?!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of the pandemic; reader and Yoongi have giant heart eyes whenever they see each other; feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, nipple play, f and m-receiving oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, m-masturbation, double penetration/spit roasting); idol!BTS

that’s right JK posted his blue hair and i absolutely lost it part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: your boyfriend asked JJK to fuck you, then again, and then they decided to make this a thing; based on real time.

--

Your boyfriends woke up today and chose violence.

Everything was fine. You were on your lunch break, sitting in your kitchen, knowing you would have to get back to work soon. A quick meal and scrub of the dishes left you with you a few minutes to check your phone. You didn’t get many messages throughout the day and you preferred it that way. You took a moment to scroll through social media.

Only to choke a little seeing Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae of BTS, reveal his dark blue locks to the world in the middle of the damn day. Did you almost drop your phone? Yes. Did you not because it was the special edition BTS S20+? Also, yes. The TinyTan SUGA phone case would have protected it anyway, but��� still.

You placed your phone aside and went back to your computer, ready to attend work again.

Not quite composed, but it was just a picture, just a picture, just a picture…

Except you knew what Jungkook looked like naked and that wasn’t helping.

Three hours later, you snuck a glance at your phone only to be attacked by the cutest human being in the world, Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, sometimes Agust D, all the time lil meow meow because, holy shit, why the fuck was this man so cute? Those damn cheeks. Those eyes. Fuck, you loved his eye shape. And his pretty lips. Damnnit, why couldn’t you kiss him right now?

They’re trying to kill you and ARMY all at once. 

You’re convinced.

You rubbed your temples and took a deep breath.

It is only a coincidence. It doesn’t involve you. They’re only being their usual adorable, attractive selves and giving a gift to the fans. You weren’t delusional. It was their job to do things like this. You knew this and you were used to it. You’ve seen Yoongi say all kinds of things in V-LIVEs and you always thought it was funny. Lately, he hadn’t been responding to them much though. As for Jungkook, well.

Everyone in the world wanted Jungkook, including you, so could you blame the world? No.

Jungkook tried to tell you before that he was shy and you recalled all those see-through shirts he’d worn on stage. All those ab reveals. Hmm, you weren’t fooled.

“I wanted to make sure you were looking at me, noona,” Jungkook had teased you, hooking his arms around your waist. “I had to get your attention somehow.”

Yeah, yeah, your attention and millions of other people.

It made you laugh, until he became your boyfriend, and now it made you choke on air like every other human being who saw him looking that good. Before you had the safety of giving your full attention to Yoongi. Yoongi had always been your priority and you wanted to make sure he felt that way.

Little by little.

Jungkook grew up.

And became harder and harder to ignore.

Even more difficult when Yoongi gave him the apartment key and told him to fuck you in his stead.

You heard your phone ping. You checked your messages, saving your work in the process.

That will teach you to post such sexy pictures.

You twitched. Excuse me? What was Jungkook talking about? Your personal, private Instagram was for expressing your – sometimes eccentric – fashion sense. Was he referring to the images you posted for Valentine’s Day, the ones with the white vinyl coat, red stockings, and sky-high red heels? Hmph. You couldn’t even see your face in those. Actually, you deliberately cut off most of your face in all of your pictures. The most you showed were your lips, always painted to match your outfit. You didn’t want anyone to recognize you, even by happenstance.

Made taking pictures much easier, since you never had to do eye makeup or worry about accidentally making ugly faces.

It was private now, but it wasn’t before, and the only reason you privated it was because you started dating Yoongi. You still wanted it use it as an outlet though, so you left it as is, with your follower count unchanging. It wasn’t that many people to begin with and you were pretty sure a lot of the accounts were bots.

In any case, sometimes you felt like being creative and dressing up, thus you did so on Instagram. You couldn’t dress like that when you went to visit Yoongi. Ah, and now Jungkook too. To be honest, you loved fashion and trying on different looks, but it wasn’t possible unless you were alone. And you were alone a lot, with no one but strangers to appreciate (or be confused by) it.

Might as well take a picture, right?

And if you could tease Yoongi a little, at least from a distance, that was even better.

You forgot Jungkook also followed you now though. 

Dammit. 

Had the photos been sexy? Sure. Provocative, lots of leg, almost a peek of ass but not quite. Red lips to stand out against the white. If the coat was black, it would have been more traditionally fetishist, but that's why you had picked shiny white vinyl. Brighter for the cute holiday. 

Who are you kidding? You wore it to provoke Yoongi.

He texted you after you posted it. Usually, he said things along the lines of, pretty, cute, you look crazy, I like it. Only sometimes did he say...

what the fuck

You had asked him if he liked your post today. 

I'm not trying to pop a boner in the middle of practice, control yourself woman.

Maybe don't post such cute selfies then, you had thought. Then your phone pinged again. 

Send a picture with the coat open. Jungkook wants to see. 

Oh, so now that the maknae was involved, he was going to pin things on the younger one. Two can play at this game. You sent the photo to Jungkook first. You knew that if the situation was reversed, Yoongi would have done the same. Jungkook's reaction had been hilarious.

Noona?! WHAT???

And then a slew of head exploding emojis.

Yoongi had been agitated until you finally sent him the picture too. It had been a fun incident.

Until your boyfriends woke up today and chose violence.

Dammit. 

You stared at blue-haired Jungkook and 'Blue and Grey' Yoongi from the MTV Unplugged performance. 

This just wasn’t allowed. 

-

This visit had a purpose, but then you saw Min Yoongi standing in the hallway waiting for you, wearing an olive-green shirt, hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants, small smile on his lips. Purring your name lovingly after you closed the door, and you realized you missed him so very much, his lovely dark brown eyes and dark hair, and then you were suddenly in his arms and he was hugging you. 

With both arms. 

Yoongi was recovering well and he still couldn't do strenuous activity yet, but he was hugging you with both arms and you wanted to cry because it was so nice to have them both around you. You could've been cool and collected, yet somehow both you and Yoongi had the same idea to first hug and breathe in each other, his fresh, woodsy scent strongly invading your nose and his soft cheek against yours.

"You smell different."

"Do you like it?" you mumbled into his neck, kissing it lightly. 

"Mhm."

You thought it had worn off by now, but the new perfume you had purchased lingered far longer than you imagined, clinging to your hair. Warm spiced sweetness with a hint of sharp smoke. Yoongi inhaled deeply beside you.

"You should wear more perfume," he murmured, hands kneading your waist.

"Someone might notice."

"Nah, your taste similar enough to mine."

He was taking off your coat and you were stepping out of your shoes, being pulled deeper into the apartment, and now his kisses were yours, soft and light, every one saying, I missed you, I want you, I love you. There no need for words when it was Min Yoongi. Fingers tapping down your waist, pulling your oversized black shirt up and over your head. 

"Excuse me?"

You pooped your head out to see Yoongi staring at your chest, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Oh, right. You had been so occupied with hugs and kisses that you almost forgot. Your shirt fluttered to the floor, forgotten.

You smirked. 

"Surprise."

Yoongi made a face at you. Somewhere between angry, aroused, and shock. Good. Serves you right for posting such a cute selfie.

The front door opened. 

Both of you instantly moved, you sliding behind him and into the bedroom, Yoongi standing in front of you, masking your frame. The discarded shirt and jacket could be explained away – that's why you wore oversized men's clothes, usually in Yoongi's preferred color palette.

"Hyung?"

Oh, whew. Actually, wait. No, this was danger. 

"Ah, Jungkookie."

Yoongi placed his hand on your arm and you popped your head over the corner once you heard the door close. Yup. A swift shake of dark blue locks, white sweatshirt and loose black sweatpants, and that mischievous smirk with a wrinkle of his nose. 

Danger.

"Hey, noona!"

Damnnit, planning for two is hard! You couldn't just go put your shirt on and do the grand reveal again. Yoongi grasped your upper arm with his right hand and yanked you from the doorframe. You squeaked, body stumbling into Jungkook’s view.

"Did you plan this?" Yoongi asked with a cocked brow. 

Jungkook's eyes went wide. 

"Uh... no, but I like where this is going," Jungkook replied, smirk growing. 

The black lace bra stood out against your skin, strappy and elegant, molding to the swells of your breasts and the curve downward to your waist, matching the garter belt that disappeared into the black jeans you were wearing. You didn't usually wear lingerie. It wasn't practical and if you accidentally left something behind... it wasn't worth the risk. Yoongi and you took every precaution to not fuck this up. 

Therefore, you only wore lingerie on your private Instagram. 

Only showing little flashes, never the whole picture. And, really, you wore it in your photos to mess with them. It made you feel nice too, so it was a win-win. This set was familiar to Yoongi and Jungkook because you had worn the red version in the original Valentine’s Day themed photos. 

Again, you didn't usually wear lingerie, but Jungkook and Yoongi couldn't just post pictures on Twitter back-to-back, two-shot you, and not expect a damn reaction. That kind of shit wasn't tolerated! On top of all that, you had to wait and get properly tested before getting here. This pandemic extended your frustrations. So, yes, fuck it, you wore the damn lingerie that made you feel the sexiest. Even if your jeans were still on, you knew you looked good. 

No one had to tell you. You checked in the mirror before you left. 

"Is this your response to my text a couple days ago?" Jungkook teased, kicking off his shoes and bounding over to you two. His dark blue hair shimmered in the light, like a night sky covered with stars, smile pure and naughty at the same time, lighting up his whole face. 

Fuck you for being hot, Jeon Jungkook!

You leaned back against Yoongi, crossing your arms under your breasts, pressing them together. Jungkook grinned, the mole underneath his lower lip winking at you. 

"Something like that," you coolly replied. Shit, there was an edge to your voice. Hopefully neither Yoongi or Jungkook picked that up.

"Hmm..." 

Jungkook pursed his lips, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out the side. Ack. You had to look away. You turned and bumped your lace-covered tits against Yoongi's chest. His dark brown orbs flickered to your breasts, sly smile on his lips. 

"This is your fault too, by the way."

Yoongi raised his eyebrows, amused. "What do you mean?"

You dropped your hands, surveying him suspiciously. "You think I don't know? Posting right after Jungkook? That's not allowed! You know what that does to me."

Yoongi leaned forward. Your breath caught in your throat, heart beating fast all of a sudden. You backed up, right into Jungkook's chest. Uh oh. Yoongi hummed, black hair shadowing his face, devious sparkle in those dangerous eyes, his voice a raspy, purring drawl. 

"What does it do to you?"

Your hand fell back to brace yourself and Jungkook's fingers wrapped around your wrist, stroking your skin. You felt him shift behind you and then his lips were on your ear, whispering in his silvery voice. 

"Yeah, noona. Tell us.” His grip on your wrist tightened, squeezing lightly, asserting his presence behind you. “Or you can show us."

...

!!!

How dare they tag team you? First, they visually attack you – and millions of other ARMY – in the middle of the workday, and now this, Yoongi closing in, kissing you once more, deeper, hungrier, with dark intent, smirking against your lips as Jungkook took both your hands, ghosting his long fingers over yours. You whimpered into Yoongi's mouth, body tensing, Jungkook pressing himself into your back, breath against your hair. 

"You smell different," he murmured.

You couldn't reply. Yoongi was sucking on your tongue, making you whine. 

"Warm, sweet, and spicy."

Yoongi released you and you gasped for air, bucking into Jungkook's crotch. "I bought it last week... thought it smelled nice..."

Jungkook nuzzled your hair. "I like it. Makes me horny."

You laughed a little, turning your hands around in his to lace your fingers together. He held your hands firmly, grinding his crotch into your ass. You could already feel his arousal through your jeans.

"Sounds dangerous," you mused. 

"It is," Yoongi chuckled. "But you should keep wearing it anyway. You smell good."

Heat rose to your cheeks. Then you realized your jeans were already undone, being daintily pushed down by deft hands and an amused expression, Yoongi crouching to pull them along. Bit by bit, revealing the matching garter belt, the high-cut black lace panties that framed your thighs, and lace-topped sheer stockings, all the straps emphasizing your softness, sinking into your thighs and ass.

"Fuck..." Yoongi breathed, running his fingertips over the delicate fabric, touch so light against your skin, dancing up your knee. "You're so fucking beautiful."

He looked up at you, eyes so dark they seemed black, playful smirk on those perfect pink lips. Thump. You felt Jungkook pull your arms back and press them to his sides. You grabbed fistfuls of Jungkook’s shirt, staring down at Yoongi advancing between your legs, his smirk growing wider and more teasing, lovely voice low and husky, deep with arousal.

"What's the matter?" Yoongi purred. "Cat got your tongue?"

Your body tensed in anticipation, Jungkook's hands crawling around your sides, one tattooed, one not, fingers hovering over your now trembling chest. Looking down at Yoongi's smug expression, tongue flicking out and teasing you. Reminding you how good he was and how long you'd been waiting. 

Fuck you for being hot, Min Yoongi!

"Don't overexert yourself..." you breathed.

A sculpted brow lifted. 

"I have help now," he reminded you and Jungkook's hands sank into your barely-covered breasts. 

"Fuck..." Jungkook hissed into your ear, running his palms over your nipples, listening to your gasps as Yoongi dived between your thighs, hot tongue sliding against the lace. "Missed these tits so fucking much." His lips on your ear, growling your name, that dominant edge to his silvery voice, tweaking the hardened nubs while Yoongi teased your clothed clit with his tongue, the lace hardly a barrier but still an effective one, the rough threads plucking against your sensitive nerves.

How long had it been? So long, almost forever since Yoongi’s tongue was on you, soft and fast and the perfect pressure, deliberately teasing you and not moving the fabric aside, so close yet so far. If it wasn’t Yoongi, maybe you could tell him to move it, maybe you could beg, but you couldn’t speak because of Yoongi’s tongue and Jungkook’s rough touch, his hands on your breasts, pushing them together, your nipples poking tiny tents in the black lace, running his fingertips over them over and over, his hips grinding into your ass. Yoongi cupped one of your ass cheeks and spread them, your panties bunching in the center, Jungkook’s hardness slipping in, still covered by his sweatpants.

Wetter, hotter, sanity slipping little by little.

“Y-Yoongi… J-Jungkook…”

You tried not to shove your hips in Yoongi’s face, not wanting to strain his neck, and ended up pushing back instead, bouncing against Jungkook’s cock. The younger man snickered, nipping at your ear, pinching your nipples, and you felt a slick squelch as Yoongi’s tongue pushed the lace into your dripping pussy. The moans dragged out of your throat, eyelids fluttering, letting them do whatever they wanted, pleasure flooding all your senses, watching Yoongi wreck you, clutching Jungkook’s sweatshirt, panting their names, leaking more and more, the scent of your juices getting stronger and sweeter.

“This isn’t fair…” you panted. “I’m going c-crazy…”

Yoongi hummed on your clit and you cried out, hips rocking, so good, head tipping onto Jungkook’s broad shoulder, his long blue hair brushing against your cheek and eyelashes.

“Good, because you make us crazy,” Jungkook muttered, pushing your breasts together and squeezing them roughly. His voice was so deep you could feel your back vibrate with his words. His other hand came up and gripped your chin, trailing down and fitting around your neck, the loose sleeve falling and revealing his forearm tattoos, contrasting your lace-covered skin. “Always looking so fucking pretty and making me want to fuck you…”

His index finger came up and pressed against your lower lip. Those chocolatey eyes were watching your face from his peripheral vision, smirking as he witnessed your expression.

“Even showing off these sexy, fuckable lips. That’s not fair either, noona.”

“T-That’s not…”

Jungkook’s hand at your throat dropped and you yelped, his large palm fitting around your right thigh and lifting it up, fingers sinking in. Stockings, lace, garter, Jungkook’s touch, holding your leg up and out, giving Yoongi a perfect view of your glistening core. Then there was more, too much more, Yoongi pushing aside your panties, soaked fabric snapping against the inside of your thigh and then his mouth was directly on you, oh, fuck, his tongue on your throbbing clit, lips wrapped around it, pure suffocating ecstasy, your slick juices dripping down his chin, so easy, it was just too easy for Yoongi to make you feel so fucking good and he looked so sexy doing it too, those cat-like eyes piercing into you, ordering you to cum for him, to spill all over his beautiful face.

“Yoongi… fuck, your tongue is so fucking good–”

Your body rippled with pleasure and you flung your head to the side, away from Jungkook’s ear to moan far too loud, filling up the entire hallway, wanton and lewd, absolutely pornographic and sinful in nature, orgasm gushing into Yoongi’s waiting mouth, shuddering against Jungkook’s hard body. So many sensations, too many sensations. Yoongi sank his nails into your ass, growling as he sucked out your cum and drank it, Jungkook grinding his stiff length in between your ass cheeks, spreading your leg so far that your left one was quivering with strain, tits squashed in Jungkook’s left hand, his warm tongue on your ear, whispering darkly. Dirty, sensual, and your pussy couldn’t stop throbbing, Min Yoongi’s mouth and Jeon Jungkook’s low octave driving you insane.

“You look so fucking good, noona. Your body is so fucking perfect, so sexy wrapped up in lace,” he exhaled, sliding his palm over your nipples roughly, earning more depraved moans. He lowered your leg, slowly, Yoongi lapping at your clit, sending shocks of pleasure up your torso as he cleaned you off. Jungkook’s hand slid down over your stomach, flicking the straps against your skin, small snaps of pain that made you gasp, trapped in Jungkook’s power, letting him take over you. He took a step back, forcing you to arch your spine and look up at him, a curtain of cobalt surrounding that handsome face and those intense brown eyes.

No one could make you feel the way Yoongi made you feel. No one.

So...

Why did staring up at Jungkook like this do things to you? Why did it put your heart on a string and tension in your throat? Get it together. You weren't a teenager. Ask for what you want. He was just so insanely attractive in every way.

Jungkook smirked and you wanted him to ruin you. 

He lifted you up easily. You saw Yoongi standing up and wiping his chin, self-satisfied and amused. He tilted his head and plucked one of the straps on your stomach, a light, erotic sting. Yoongi made eye contact with you, locking you in his gaze. A single look, and your heart was fluttering, immediately smitten. One by one, fingers wrapping around a few of the straps and pulling you to him, backing up, leading you to the bed by own your lingerie. 

"Why today?" Yoongi drawled, tracing the curve of the bra cup, sending shivers over your skin. "Feeling risky?"

You raised a brow, focusing on him, trapped in those cat-like eyes. 

"Control yourself. Aren't you used to this body by now?"

Yoongi grinned devilishly, darting closer, leaving you breathless in his speed. The scent of his cologne and your orgasm lingered on his skin, a delicious combination. 

"Never."

Kissing you, taking your startled inhale, and you could taste yourself, fuck, just something about his skilled lips and your taste had your fingers twisting into Yoongi's shirt, rolling your body into his, still being so careful, but it was so hard because he was making it so hard, teasing you with that deft tongue, bursts of pleasure with every heartbeat you had while captured in Yoongi's lips. You missed it, this intensity, the overwhelming feeling that Yoongi gave you, being able to give in to the want, but you still couldn't give in without abandon, but you were so close. 

So close. 

Ruin me. 

He pushed you lightly and you felt another pair of arms wrap around you, the kiss suddenly broken, but the second touch was familiar now, one tattooed arm, one not, and you knew that if you fell, these arms could catch you.

Jungkook put you in his lap, your back touching his bare chest. Oh, shit. Before you could think much about it, he turned you so you were laying in his arms princess-style. He must have removed his sweatshirt while you were talking to Yoongi, but he still wearing his pants, now sitting in the side of the bed, blue hair messy from your hands and the removal of his clothes. Your arms hooked around his neck instinctively, not wanting to fall, but he had his right hand splayed across your shoulder blades, holding you up securely. 

"Mmm, this is nice," Jungkook murmured, playfully smiling. He nuzzled your nose, tongue flicking over your lips. "Why did you make us wait so long, hm?"

You frowned, breath against his chin. "The number of cases got higher... and you all were so busy... I couldn't get tested until recently."

Jungkook made a disgruntled noise. 

"Hey, public health and safety is important."

He pouted at you. "But..."

"He's horny and wants to fuck," Yoongi cut in.

"Hyung…!"

Yoongi pulled up his chair and sat down, looking amused. 

"He's been jacking off to your pictures."

"N-no, I haven't!"

"Really? I have."

Yoongi's face was completely neutral. It was hard to tell if he was lying or not. 

Jungkook tried to hide his flushed face with your hair. "... M-Maybe I h-have..."

"Tsk, tsk, naughty Jungkookie," you teased.

"Noona..."

"And you?"

You felt Yoongi grasp your chin, tipping you back in Jungkook's arms. Some of your hair fell over your eyes, hazing your vision of Yoongi. Even so, his intent was obvious. You could feel it in his gaze, the burning hunger, his fingertips caressing your chin, leaning forward slightly to observe you. 

I want to ruin you. 

Yoongi didn't have to say it. You knew it, pierced by the predatory glint in his eyes. You could tell he missed this, could tell that he wanted to give in to his desires, wanted to lose control, only limited by his own physical body.

However. 

He pressed his thumb into your lower lip, lifting a brow. 

Jungkook was here now.

Yoongi gave you his trademark open-mouthed smirk. 

"Ruin me," you whispered, staring into those cat-like dark brown eyes. The recognition was instant, pleased that you knew what he wanted. You shifted your attention to the maknae, his chocolate eyes wide, watching your tongue slide out and licking Yoongi's thumb. "Ruin me, Jungkook."

You loved the way Jungkook could turn from blushing anxiousness to sly confidence, and all it took was your words and the way you said them, enabling him in the best way possible. The dark blue hair helped accented the shift in demeanor, creating cool-toned shadows over his lightly tanned skin. 

"Anything for you," Jungkook purred.

You gasped sharply as you felt two fingers slide into you, Jungkook’s thumb rubbing your overstimulated clit. Your body jerked, trying to get away, but Yoongi's hand on your chin slid down, pressing on your chest, holding you still, your name a dangerous rasp from Yoongi's lips.

"Stay still."

Your eyes flickered down. Right hand. Okay. You shouldn’t be worried anymore, but you were. It was habit.

"Yoon–ah!"

You gasped, left arm firmly behind Jungkook's shoulders and the other behind you, your hand on the bed to steady your balance as Yoongi shoved the bra cups down, exposing your breasts. He lowered his head, the contact of his lips on your hot skin paired with Jungkook's thrust of his fingers into your pussy. Instant waves of pleasure overtook you, fingers sinking into the sheets and Jungkook’s hair, fuck, his beautiful navy hair standing out against your skin and, for some reason, seeing that made you feel prettier, thrusting your chest in Yoongi’s face to get more into his mouth, spreading your legs wide to give Jungkook more access.

Only a brief moment of, I should know better, I shouldn’t be doing this, and then Yoongi’s eyes were on you, tongue flicking your red nipple.

Let go.

Was this even fair to them? Could you satisfy both? Could you and should you? But Yoongi’s eyes were telling you to let go, to chase the feeling, to give in, and hunt the desperation and the want. They wanted you. There was nothing like this and there will never be anything like this again.

“Give it to me,” Yoongi growled.

You whined sharply as you felt two more fingers push into you, but not Jungkook’s fingers, Yoongi’s fingers, his thumb joining Jungkook’s on your clit and your eyes rolled back, so wet and aroused from knowing both Jungkook’s and Yoongi’s fingers were thrusting into you, four in total, your pussy sucking them in, back arching as Yoongi sucked on your nipple. So much pleasure, rapidly ascending higher and higher, so fucking full and tight that their fingers were making sloppy smacking sounds, matching rhythm so they filled you completely together, all at once.

You couldn’t stop your hips from meeting them, fingers spreading out in Jungkook’s hair and the sheets as you came hard, gasping their names, euphoria soaring through your nerves, and still they didn’t stop even though your pussy was violently spasming, creating a messy splatter of your juices on the inside of your thighs and their hands. Instead, the pace changed, Yoongi switching sides on your chest, and then you really couldn’t think, because Jungkook was lowering his head too, and now both of your nipples were getting abused, Jungkook’s arm firmly under your upper back to hold you up, not letting you fall.

“Yoongi, Jungkook… p-please, oh fuck!”

Your other hand flew up and buried in Yoongi’s dark locks, both hands in their hair now, one blue, one black, another orgasm crashing down, moan torn from your chest. And they kept going, changing the pace again, your toes and fingers curling, every muscle tense with irresistible, consuming ecstasy that you almost felt a little numb, unable to compute anything else but your body scantily covered in lace, two mouths sucking on your nipples, four fingers stuffed into you, clit engorged and sending violent shocks throughout your system. You couldn’t even discern one orgasm from another, pussy continuously throbbing and convulsing with the continuous, chained orgasms, so wet that it was soaking the tops of your stockings, the sweet honey of your cum the predominant scent in the room.

“I… I-I can’t take a-anymore, please…”

Your legs threatened to close but Yoongi snapped his head up, snarling your name dangerously.

“One more,” he ordered. “Give us one more.”

“Your pussy feels so good,” Jungkook panted, saliva dripping down your chest. “I love it so fucking much, even when it’s around my fingers.”

You were trying to hold back, trying to control it, tensing everything, your core, your legs, your arms, and you didn’t even realize it, but you held your breath too, biting your lip and seeing Yoongi and Jungkook at the same time, both watching you, fingers punishingly squelching into your tight little hole, stretching it out unforgivingly, abused clit pulsating so hard it almost hurt, and it was exactly what you wanted, brimming, boiling pleasure that threatened you on the brink, closer, closer, closer, and the world was almost hazy with how ferociously you had constricted the coil.

“Fuck!”

You threw your head back, back abruptly arching and smacking them in the face with your tits as everything came plummeting down, resolve cracking with a wanton howl, orgasm racking through your entire frame so hard that your body lurched and flinched, Yoongi and Jungkook cradling you while you rode your high, grinding your hips into their hands and carnally moaning, liquid gushing out and dripping down your legs, your ass, down Jungkook’s sweatpants and onto the bed.

It was such an intense orgasm that you were lightheaded, hands slipping out of their hair and falling down, drained, aftershocks causing your body to shudder, even as they removed their fingers. Your clit was still throbbing, pumps of pleasure spreading through you.

It was obscene witnessing Yoongi and Jungkook cleaning their fingers off right in front of you, pink tongues sliding between the digits, licking off your viscous cum, giving you a perverse sense of satisfaction when Yoongi moaned softly and Jungkook groaned lowly, savoring your taste like a fine wine. Yoongi spied your exhausted, smug expression.

“Do you think you’re done?”

You gave him a weak smirk. “I better not be.”

“Sit in Jungkook’s lap,” Yoongi said calmly. “Face me.”

You tilted your head curiously but did as you were told, shifting your still quivering legs so your thighs were on the outside of Jungkook’s thighs, the balance a little difficult, but Yoongi took your hands and placed them around his hips. You held onto him as he lifted his shirt, pulling it over his head.

“Jungkook, rip her panties off.”

Wait, what did Min Yoongi just s–?

Two strong hands dug out the lace trapped in your ass and fastened around the thin fabric.

Riiiiiiip!

“Yoongi!”

The shirt fluffed his black hair as he removed it, dropping it onto his chair. You glared at him as Yoongi looked down at you, expression blank, dark brown orbs full of mischief.

“You knew it was going to happen. If he wasn’t going to rip it, I was.” Yoongi placed his right hand on his left shoulder. His tone dropped, mockingly rueful. “You wouldn’t want me to hurt myself, right?”

Yeah, this was why you didn’t wear lingerie.

But, also, this was why you wore it today.

You felt Jungkook tugging off the now useless pair of panties, plucking them out from under your garter belt. Oh well. You liked the red more anyway. That’s why you had bought two sets, after all.

“Remind me to take all the bits before I go,” you grumbled.

“Sure, noona.” Jungkook dangled the said lacy bits next to your head. You narrowed your eyes and mouth into slits even though he couldn’t see. “I’ll put them in my pocket.” You felt him shove them into his sweatpants.

Were you… going to remember?

Yoongi beckoned you. You shot him a warning look, still annoyed, but Yoongi pointed down to your hands on his hips.

“Isn’t there something you want?” Yoongi mused in that raspy, dark tone, the one that made your irritation fade instantly and replace it with arousal. “Take it.”

He cocked his head, shading his dark eyes with his hair, pink lips parting, the slightest hint of a smirk. Challenging you. Go on. Show me how much you want me. Your body still buzzed with the aftermath of moments before and yet you still lowered your head, sliding your hips back, sucking in a breath as your puffy pussy lips touched Jungkook’s toned chest, smearing yourself on his skin.

“Ooh, I like this,” Jungkook murmured, leaning back a little to give you space. You rocked your hips into his torso, his muscles flexing under you opening, inflamed clit brushing against his hardness. You pushed Yoongi’s pants and underwear down, dipping your head, hearing Yoongi breathe your name lustfully.

“That’s a pretty picture.”

He was only semi-hard, but he was getting harder and harder, watching you grind against Jungkook’s pecs. You knew exactly how to get him the hardest, dipping down and latching your mouth around one of his balls.

“Fuck, yes,” Yoongi gasped, his hand coming up and fitting behind your head. You sucked it into your mouth and then extended your tongue, bouncing the other with your wet muscle while sucking the first one. The first time you did this, Yoongi was literally speechless, sputtering and confused at how you could stimulate both at once and in two different ways, sucking with your lips as your tongue flicked against the other, slurping slightly to add vibration over the sensitive skin. You felt his cock swell, smacking your cheek, fully hard at the combined sensations.

“I still don’t know how you do that,” Yoongi gritted out, keeping your hair away from your face.

“Do what?” Jungkook asked behind you, one hand on your ass and squeezing it.

“She can suck one of your balls and lick the other at the same time.”

“What?!”

You yelped at the sharp sting of Jungkook’s slap to your ass.

“How come you never did that for me?” Jungkook complained, whining a little.

You tried to lift your head, but Yoongi’s hand refused to move. You make a muffled noise of distaste, but Yoongi answered for you as you switched sides.

“Have you asked?” Yoongi replied calmly, sighing in satisfaction.

“How am I supposed to know she has porn star skills?”

“Is this a discussion for right now?” you mumbled into Yoongi’s balls.

“No, because you’re supposed to be swallowing.”

“Wha–”

The second your mouth opened, Yoongi nudged his cock between your lips and you wrapped them around it, moaning as his stiff length slid down your throat, so satisfying, his taste on your tongue, so delicious that you didn’t even want to complain, you only wanted to bob your head up and down, hands on his hips. Yoongi chuckled above you, guiding your head with his right hand, left loosely by his side. You slid your lower body up and down Jungkook’s chest, your increased slickness adding more stimulation.

“Fuck, that’s so damn hot,” you heard Jungkook groan. There was a rustle of fabric and then skin on skin, his muscular arm brushing against your stocking clad thigh with every stroke.

If only you could take a picture and could see how sexy you were, blowing Yoongi with his hand behind your head, tucking the head of his cock into your throat a little deeper every time you descended, your pussy sliding up and down Jungkook’s chest, and Jungkook furiously jacking himself off while watching you suck his hyung off, feeling your slippery clit throb against his skin.

Good thing the door was locked, because of any other member walked in on this, it might have become a damn foursome.

“Close,” Yoongi panted, fingers digging into your scalp. “You want it like this?”

You hummed approvingly in your chest, increasing your pace and fucking Jungkook’s torso harder, nearing your end too, Jungkook moaning louder and pumping himself harder. So many indecent sounds, skin on skin, mouth on skin, hand on skin, moaning, crying out around Yoongi’s cock, his saliva-covered balls smacking you in the chin, you ass slapping down on Jungkook’s chest.

Hot, wet, positively sinful.

The chain reaction started with Jungkook. He came suddenly, choking on your name, shooting up your chest, warm stickiness splattering onto your skin and you squeezed your eyes shut, moaning as you came all over his chest, slippery and sweet, drenching his skin, throat muscles tightening, Yoongi whimpering your name, a rare moment of lost control as he thrust his hips into your lips, coating your throat with thick hot strings, forcing you to swallow fast, the pressure satisfying and overwhelming, gulping it all down eagerly.

You did ask to be ruined.

Just… a little more.

Your eyes were still closed, lazily licking Yoongi’s twitching length. He was panting above you, gently stroking your hair, words so soft that they were almost inaudible.

“I love you…”

You went all the way down and Yoongi groaned, your tongue flicking the top of his balls, rapid, swift laps that made his cock swell again, bending against the roof of your mouth. Yoongi chuckled, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“Still want more?”

You backed up, panting hard, Jungkook’s cum clinging to your chest and lingerie, hair a mess from Yoongi’s hand.

“Want your cock in my pussy,” you demanded hoarsely. “Want you to fuck me, Yoongi.”

He pretended to think about it. “Hmm, I don’t know…”

You got off Jungkook’s lap, snaking around the younger man’s body, crawling onto the bed, eyes on Yoongi, his intense gaze following you, enticed by your movement. On all fours, hips in the air, dropping your chest down a little, the curve of your back accentuating the roundness of your bare ass. Still in your garter belt and stockings, your bra half-off, the lowered cups pushing your breasts together invitingly. Jungkook turned his head, pink lips parting as your fingers fanned out over the sheets, one eyebrow arching gracefully.

“Jungkook in front. Yoongi behind.”

“Do… Do you want a towel or something, noona?” Jungkook asked, blinking rapidly at your assertiveness.

“I want to get fucked and I want to get fucked now, so get over here.”

“Bed’s going to be a mess,” Yoongi remarked, moving quickly, shedding his pants and going for the nightstand, taking out a condom.

“We can sleep in Jungkook’s room,” was your dry reply, yanking Jungkook’s hips towards you after he removed his sweatpants.

“Wha– ack!”

You spread his legs out in front of you, eyes roaming over his naked body, admiring it all, his legs, his abs, his pecs, covered in your drying juices, his adorable surprised face, navy curls around his chiseled cheeks, chocolate eyes round and awed at your prowess. Your hands were on his knees, breasts hanging down, breathing hard, adrenaline humming in your veins.

“You are so fucking pretty it’s unreal,” Jungkook breathed.

You grinned.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck my face.”

Jungkook grinned back at you.

You dove down, tits bouncing before becoming squashed against the bed, Jungkook’s drying cum flaking off as you wrapped your lips around one of his balls, moaning as you felt Yoongi’s hands firmly grip your hips.

“You have to help me a little,” Yoongi murmured.

“I will, hyung.”

“I mean her too,” the older man chuckled, smacking your ass playfully. Your tongue flitted out, slurping at Jungkook’s other ball from the side of your mouth as you sucked the first one, wiggling your ass at Yoongi to indicate that you heard him. Jungkook yelped, hands slamming down onto the pillows and clutching them, moaning out your name.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, holy shit…” His head hit the headboard lightly, speaking to the ceiling and maybe even the higher power himself. “H-How...? Why does it feel s-so good…?”

You felt Yoongi slide in, so easy because of all those back-to-back orgasms, and yet he still hissed at your tightness, muscles holding him firmly. You could cry with how good it felt, Yoongi finally fully inside you once again, filling you up just the way you liked, knowing how to hit your deepest spot right away, skillful and wonderful. You licked up Jungkook’s now hard length, moaning deeply as you slapped your hips back into Yoongi’s crotch. Yoongi moaned to match yours, enraptured by the feeling.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he hissed, nails digging into your ass. “Missed you so fucking much, my love.”

“I’ll do the moving, love,” you gasped back, squeezing Yoongi’s cock inside you. You reached for Jungkook’s right hand and grabbed it, planting it on your head. “Fuck my face, Jungkook. Please. Don’t hold back until you cum.”

Jungkook bit his lip, exhaling your name. “I think I love you.”

“And I definitely love you, so please give it to me.”

You closed your lips around him and sank down, looking up at him and his sweaty dark blue hair, his blown-out pupils, his outstretched tattooed arm, so fucking hot, fuck yes you loved him, him and his body and his work ethic and his sweetness and his firmness as he obeyed your command, thrusting into your mouth from below, filling your throat with the thick head.

Perfect.

You rocked your hips back to Jungkook’s rhythm, matching him, slow at first, but gradually faster, rougher, planting your hands on the bed for balance, completely focused on clenching your core and your mouth to fit the two cocks, giving them the maximum amount of pleasure that you could offer, suffocating them with tightness. It if was obscene before, it was ten times obscener now, Yoongi’s hand on your hip, barely having to move as you smacked your ass into him, Jungkook lurching you forward with his force, clenching his jaw as he chased his release, the bed screaming for help and none of you listening.

“You’re so fucking sexy, fuck, you always make me feel so good, can’t help but want you, need you, miss you so fucking much,” Jungkook gritted out, fingers curling in your hair, desperately and viscerally whimpering out your name as you tipped your head to change the angle, the sensitive head dragging against the roof of your mouth as he buried himself in your throat. “You’re so good to me, such a soft and tight mouth, fuck.”

You arched your back a little more, Yoongi hitting you deeper, hearing him suck in a tight breath at your movement.

“Tighter,” Yoongi growled. “I’m close, come on, give it to me.”

And then he smacked your ass with his open palm, making you moan around Jungkook’s thick cock, pussy clenching around Yoongi’s entire length, and then again, smack! Control slipping with every hit, falling into Jungkook’s pace, the sheer force of his hips pushing you down on Yoongi’s cock over and over, now only focused on hollowing out your cheeks and gripping Yoongi’s cock, the sudden twitching indicating that Yoongi was close, so close, holding out a little so he could watch you longer, torturing you just the way you liked, but he couldn’t hold out for long because you didn’t let him, walls pulsating around him brutally as you came, stuffed so full that you couldn’t think. Yoongi groaned your name, gripping your ass with both hands and digging his nails in your softness, cock jolting as he came in thick pumps, filling up the condom and swelling it against your walls.

It took Jungkook a little longer, but not that much longer, your mouth still locked tight and he hissed out your name, whimpering as he came down your throat, filling it with cum once again, so fast that you had to swallow hastily to breathe, and yet there was more, thick salty dribbles that made you moan, so delicious that you leaned into it, sucking Jungkook dry.

“A-ah, n-noona…”

Your body ached, flinching from oversensitivity, your mind swimming with pleasure. Had it ever felt this good before? You slid off Jungkook’s cock, falling against his thigh and using it like a pillow, chest heaving, sticky all over, lips overused, pussy throbbing, barely realizing that Yoongi had pulled out, far too spent to see straight.

“Fuck, I love you two…”

Yoongi’s face suddenly appeared, smug expression above you. He had crawled over your body, ruffled black hair hanging down, dark cat eyes gleaming.

“Romantic.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Mmm.”

He leaned down and kissed you, smiling against your lips, mouthing his love to you, forming each word against your skin slowly so you knew. You smiled back, showering him with light pecks, mouthing the words back to him. Yoongi purred and lifted himself up, taking you with him.

“I can’t move,” you complained, using your arms to push yourself up to avoid straining Yoongi’s shoulders. He chuckled, not the least bit fooled by your whines. He pushed you into Jungkook’s hard chest, covered in sweat and cum, and sandwiched you between them, your face right beside Jungkook’s, cheek to cheek. You could feel the heat in his face, his hair sticking to it.

“Noona?”

“Hm?”

Everything was far too messy for this cuddle session, but that could wait.

“Is it okay if I love you?” Jungkook mumbled, burying his nose in your hair.

“Mhm,” Yoongi responded, sounding sleepy.

You brushed Jungkook’s hair away from his face. “I would very much like that.”

“Everything is dirty,” Yoongi grumbled.

“You are a main contributor,” you said cheerfully.

Yoongi grunted, leaning against you, squashing you a little harder against Jungkook. Nothing to complain about. You were enjoying every second of this.

“Jungkookie?”

“Hm, noona?”

You reached up and ran a hand through his dark cerulean hair. Jungkook hummed appreciatively, closing his eyes at your touch.

“You know this shade is Cookie Monster blue, right?”

“… Hah?”

“Does that make you Ggukkie Monster?”

Yoongi burst out laughing, raspy and full, a rare moment of Min Yoongi absolutely losing his shit.

-

part v "Sorry, Jungkook, you're not allowed this time."

--

masterpost

[twistedtranslations]

Cater Diamond - Full of Lies

You can unlock this story by getting Cater’s SSR Scary dress

Big thanks to Rym and Apollo for proofreading!

Translation under the cut

Chapter 1

Main street

/Notification

Cater: Oh? A message on MagiCam? Who would've thought it was that girl! How nostalgic~ The picture those ghosts took at Ramshackle dorm made our college's Halloween event trend -> Jumping onto the bandwagon and posting a lot -> Huge success for Cay's follower-catching strat! So far it's been going well but… Mixed within the comments and DMs of my new followers are a lot of old aquaintances. Even some classmates from middle and elementary school are here.

Cater: "Hey! It's been a while! Oh, would you like to come to our college? Cay welcomes every single one of you! You can always come over to hang at NRC's Halloween event!"

Cater: And now some emoji full of feelings!  (^○^)♪ (ゝω・)☆　d(’ｖ｀*)b

Cater: Everyone is really so casual and easygoing~ Well, it's easier on me, so I'm not complaining.

???: HEY!

Cater: Where did that loud and rowdy voice come from? I've got a bad feeling about this…

Front Gate

Sebek: Humans, don't crowd around the young master! Get out! Leave!

Boy A: Hey, what are you doing, sweptback bro! Don't interfere with our Draconia Challenge.

Boy B: We're putting our lives on the line to show our bravery by uploading a picture of us touching The Malleus!

Boy A: Huh, since when did Malleus disappear?! It's that sweptback bro's fault.

Boy B: Don't be so angry. After all the effort of having a sweptback, let's show the world a huge smile on that face!

Sebek: For humans of your social standing to use the name of the Lord of the esteemed Valley of Thorns in vain…Besides, my hair is swept back like this so I have an unobstructed view to find those like you who behave rudely towards my young master! You shall receive punishment for insulting the Draconia… no, for insulting the young master. My thunder shall shock you all to bits! HAAAAA...

Cater: Okay, stop! I'm part of the Halloween Committee. It's forbidden to fight. Why don't you try talking to this lad if something's up?

Sebek: Don't interrupt me, you frolicking human! I will shock you to bits as well!

Cater: Won't you create a scandal for the Draconia family if you were to harm an ordinary human with magic?

Sebek: W-Well… You're right. Besides, didn't you just say you were part of the Halloween committee? Both the young master and master Lilia are both performing the same duties… They ordered me to listen to the orders of the other committee members. Ok, I shall talk this out.

Cater: Even though you are crossing your arms and puffing your chest out, you are being apologetic right? Anyway, these are our college's precious guests. They have no intention to harm Malleus.

Sebek: These magic-less weaklings were making a spectacle bothering Young Master with a toy. I cannot forgive that!

Cater: Malleus is like super famous, and he's an admirable being, right? So just for this festival, it should be fine to interact with our guests as a little fanservice right?

Sebek: Stop messing around. The young master is a dreadful being who makes everyone kneel and bow down to him. AND THAT'S WHY I WILL NEVER LEAVE HIS SIDE AND PROTECT HIM ALL MY LIFE!

Cater: You're just obsessed!

Boy A: Hey, interfering our Draconia Challenge aside, what are you two squabbling about?

Sebek: Hm? You humans are still here? I told you to leave.

Boy B: Huh? You've got some nerve, talking rudely to us like that!

Cater: Come on guys. Why don't we take some pictures together since it's finally Halloween! We, Heartslabyul are those who rise from the soil in the darkness, the underlings of the night~

Boy A: Wow! Now that you mention it, you do look real good for the camera!

Cater: Cheer up everyone and gather! Let's decide on a pose~~~ Happy Halloween~

¨*shutter noise*

Cater: (Ugh… This is exhausting)

Chapter 2

Classroom

Kalim/Cater/Lilia: *Sigh*… I'm tired….

Cater: This year's Halloween was exhausting. Mainly due to our guests being rowdy..

Kalim: It was fun entertaining the guests, but I was really troubled because Jamil got in a foul mood.

Lilia: Even we, three most gentle boys, have been worn down. The other students must be at the limits of their patience.

Everyone: *Sigh*…

Cater: Now that you say it, by chance all the members of the light music club are also part of the Halloween Committee. Let's have our usual relaxing tea time while also discussing some countermeasures.

Kalim/Lilia: Agreed~

Cater: I got this! Trey's home-made pumpkin pie! It's moderately sweet, so it's my favorite!

Kalim: I have kunafa. It's a cheesecake from the Scalding Sands. It's delicious when it's hot!

Lilia: Oho, these are all sweets befitting of Halloween. As the last one, I have prepared this. Licorice!

Cater: You're always bringing the same thing! You know me and Kalim don't like that.

Kalim: The smell makes my nose shrivel up~

Cater: But you know, since it's black, it does feel like Halloween. Oh, right, let's take a picture together. It's super charming to be in costume and have themed food.

*shutter noise*

Cater: #TheBestHalloween #SelfmadeCostume #HomemadeTreat #LightMusicClub #NRCHalloween

Kalim: The best? Didn't you say you were exhausted earlier, Cater?

Cater: I never said it wasn't exciting and for things like SNS, isn't it better to exaggerate a bit?

Lilia: As expected of you. We live in a period where everyone is connected all around the world. It is most wonderful to spread happiness instead of complaints.

Cater: Oh. The picture I just uploaded got an amazing response! 

*notification*

Cater: Another message from that girl. Was she the kind to keep track of people's activities?

*ringing noise*

Cater: This time it's a call. (How persistent…)

Kalim: Cater, is it from one of your friends? You can pick up if you want.

Cater: Hm~… More like an acquaintance from the past? But it's alright? We're at a very important meeting, after all.

Lilia: We are only eating sweets, taking pictures and uploading them to MagiCam though…

Cater: It's the age of social media where everyone can keep in contact at their own pace, you don't have to go through the pains of having to response in real time to a phone call.

Kalim: Do you have that many people who want to get in touch with you? You're so well connected Cater~

Cater: Well, if you look the amount of aquaintances I have, that might be true? My dad's a banker. The bank he works at has branches all over the world. Therefore, whenever he transferred to a different branch, our entire family would move with him. We moved once every two years, so I kind of feel like a pro at quickly packing things?

Lilia: Commonly said, you are a family who moved a lot for the sake of the breadwinner.

Kalim: So the reason why you have so many friends is because you have travelled around the world since young.

Cater: Yeah, the girl just now said we are friends as well. Having to change schools frequently, I got to meet more people compared to someone staying at one place. From the best to the worst… a lot of people. However, they all had something in common.

Kalim/Lilia: …?

Cater: If I left there, they remained there. That's why I'd rather have a casual and happy time with everyone than to deepen a friendship. It’s like a circus troupe, you know, having fun hanging with people all over the world and then leaving. That's why MagiCam is the best! People from my school from three years ago contacted me out of the blue. My social circle is expanding as well. Cay is getting popular!

Kalim: Even if they're far away, you don't have to hold back you know? I got it! I'll lend you my magic carpet, so you can visit your friends whenever you want.

Cater:… I expected no less of you, Kalim. I'll take you up on that offer next time.

Lilia: I feel like I understand you.

Cater: Hm?

Lilia: The relations between humans are eternal. They are things that cannot be severed. In a new place with no trace of your existence, new relations will continue to be forged. That in itself is nature. However, I think the more precious a relation is, the more lonely it becomes. Why does it feel that way? I have lived a long life but the reason is still unknown to me. But just as Cater said, there may be a perfectly logical explanation for not getting too attached to one person in particular.

Cater: Lilia, what got into you suddenly? What I wanted to say was-

*ringing noise*

Lilia: Hello, this is Lilia speaking? What business do you have?

Cater: He just casually picked up the phone during our conversation.

Lilia: Oh, Sebek. What is it? You are so loud. Right now, I am in a meeting with Cater and Kalim. WHAT?! MALLEUS?!

Kalim/Cater: ?!

Chapter 3

Hall of Mirrors

Silver: Stop pushing. It's forbidden to enter the Hall of Mirrors.

Man A: Huh, really! I came all the way to the Isle of Sages to see Malleus Draconia.

Man B: We are doing the Draconia challenge now! Why can't we enter~

Girl C: He’s inside right! An actual Draconia, the Actual Malleus!

Everyone: MALLEUS! MALLEUS! MALLEUS!

*Lightning and thunder*

Silver: It's a rare event that Master Malleus is participating in. He also agreed to interact with the guests... For it to come to this... Everyone, it’s better if you leave. You have angered master Malleus.

Man A: I paid a lot of travel expenses, did you know that? This is the price of fame.

Everyone: MALLEUS! MALLEUS! MALLEUS!

Exterior Hallway

Cater: Did the visitors who wanted that  MagiCam glory end up angering even Malleus himself?

Sebek: Yes. At first he was gentle and calmed me down when I got angry… but a fool grabbed Malleus by the horns and made fun of him by saying "Look! It's a bicycle from the olden days!"

Lilia/Cater: Gh!

Cater: I don't know if they're brave or just reckless. Were the dark clouds and thunder rampaging in the sky above the Hall of Mirrors due to Malleus' anger? You don't think he overblotted, right…?!

Lilia: Do not worry. Using that amount of magic power shall not make him overblot. He is simply irritated. Back when he was young, mountains would be destroyed by his lightning whenever he threw a tantrum.

Cater: Hahaha… that's on a totally different level. I guess it was a good idea to have Kalim fetch the professors.

Sebek: Upperclassman Vil noticed something was up and isolated the young master. He also casted a defensive spell so the tourists wouldn't be harmed. And it seemed that Upperclassman Jade is persuading the angry young master with some unique methods... Even so, those humans who can't seem to understand the gravity of the situation keep stirring up the young master, they're uncontrollable.

Lilia: This means we must use our last resort. We must put in effort to suppress the onlookers and avoid the worst situation.

Cater: Wait a second, Lilia. I thought of something. It's not like people there dislike Malleus or anything. Despite that, it doesn't mean that they like Malleus as well... They're just interested in trends. Just like my old acquaintances.

Lilia: ?

Cater: First, I'll take a picture of Lilia, who's wearing the same clothes as Malleus!

*shutter noise*

Cater: Next we use something catered to influencers. We'll elongate Lilia's picture with a photo editing app!

*swiping on phone*

Cater: Now we just add some text to finish it up. And then upload a cropped version to MagiCam!!

*Phone SFX*

Cater: #AWildMalleusAppeared #DraconiaChallenge #UnexpectedlyAtSportsGround #NRCHalloween

*Phone SFX*

Hall of Mirrors

Man A: H-Hey. Look at the Draconia challenge tag.

Man B: It seems he's at the Sports Ground now. As expected of Malleus. He's much faster than we are!

Girl C: Okay. Everyone, let's move!

Everyone: YEAH!

Silver: What happened? Master Malleus should still be in the Hall of Mirrors.

Cater: Fu. With this, I hope the storm has passed…?

Vil: Good grief. Accidents are an unavoidable part of stage plays. Letting yourself get influenced by the guests is so amateurish. My work here is done. I will return to the dorm to straighten up my appearance.

Jade: My, that was a close call. Malleus is extremely powerful. I persuaded him to the best of my abilites, trying to get him to understand. But there was no one to turn to if it had failed. Well then, I will also return to my station. I wish everyone a wonderful Halloween.

Malleus: I caused many disturbances between different racial groups during a mere school event. I should restrain myself more…

Sebek: The young master has done nothing wrong! It was the fault of those inferior humans!

Silver: The young master told us to avoid hostility between fae and humans. Why are you getting more hostile?

Sebek: WHAT DID YOU SAY SILVER!

Lilia: Malleus. Did you forget our promise from long ago? Call for us when the tranquility in your mind is disturbed.  Even if we are not related by blood, we are still a family. Got it?

Malleus: Lilia… My apologies. To everyone.

Everyone: …

Cater: ….Family…huh.

Flashback

Lilia: But just as Cater said, there may be a perfectly logical explanation for not getting too attached to one person in particular.

Flashback ends

Cater: (That was full of lies. For a guy who grew up and lived in the same place, he never had to deal with rebuilding relations over and over…He would never understand my worthless and meaningless feelings.)

*ringing*

Cater: Hello, Trey. What's up? Huh? Are we doing our rehearsal for our night show at the stamp rally now? And Deuce, who is also part of the Halloween Committee, was at his wit's end due to the lack of manpower. So Ace is helping him out? Darn, Ace is definitely going to extort me for a favor later!

Cater: Argh! And is Riddle on the verge of a rampage? I'll be back soon, Trey. Please calm him down! I am currently at the site of the biggest crisis yet of this Halloween Week! No, for real! I'm not lying. That's why you don't have to be so cold to me, 'kay? URGH, TREY, YOU'RE SO CRUEL!

Cater: Now that Diasomnia's turmoil has settled, let's change the mood and continue on with work. In any case, we’ll still separate after the fourth year… It would be different if I repeated a year though. Anyway, I should just enjoy the moment to my heart's content! I'll surprise everyone with this charming skeleton costume! I'll show them what I'm capable of!

Cater: Happy Halloween!

[puckinghell]

Acts Of Service | Elias Pettersson

Summary: When people have different love languages, sometimes it’s hard to understand what the other is trying to say. 4 times Elias shows you he loves you, and the 1 time you tell him.  Words: 7.5k (whoops) Note: This concept was very interesting to explore. Also yes, this entire thing was written because of that one picture of Elias in that blue sweater stepping out of the car like a fucking GQ model. 

----

(Some time ago)

“Didn’t you say there’s an apartment free in your building?” Brock asked as soon as you answered the phone, forgoing the “hello”.

“Hello, Brock, my very good friend, how nice to talk to you! How are you doing?” you deadpanned.

At least he had the decency to sound ashamed. “Ah, yes, hi. Sorry. I’m just in a hurry and it’s important.”

You frowned. “Why? Are you looking to move?”

“No.” Brock laughed. “Stetch would kill me. No, it’s about the rookie. Petey? I told you about him. Swedish, quiet, best fucking hands in the league.”

Yes. Brock had told you about the rookie, although you still thought it dumb to call him that. Brock was basically still a rookie himself.

“What does that have to do with my apartment building?”

“He said no to having a billet family but everyone on the team thinks it’d be good for him to have someone to kinda look out for him a bit. He’s never been to Canada before this, you know, and he’s never lived on his own either. His English isn’t that great and everything is new for him. And since you’re such a caring, loving person, we thought…”

“You thought I could babysit him?” you finished for Brock.

“It’s not babysitting. Just, being friendly if he needs anything. Obviously we’re there for that too, but it’d be nice to have you so close by.”

Close by would be an understatement: the free apartment was across the hall from yours.

You weren’t sure if this sounded like something that you would necessarily want to do, but you did feel a bit sorry for Elias: you’d met him at a team thing earlier that week and he’d looked completely lost in the midst of all the Canadian hockey slang that you barely managed to follow, even after having been friends with Brock for years. He mostly kept to Eagle, spoke in Swedish, and his eyes flickered nervously across the room whenever anyone else approached him.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll talk to my landlord. But you owe me, Blondie.”

Brock was happy enough that he didn’t even call you out on the nickname.

1. 

“Have I told you lately how much of a lifesaver you are?” You lean across your desk, resting your chin in your hands. Elias looks mildly amused as he hands you the papers.

“Nearly every day,” he says, “but then I save your life every day, so that seems fair.”

You grab the papers from his hands.

“You’re a lifesaver and the love of my life, Petey.”

You think back to when Elias just moved into your apartment building, only because Brock thought he needed someone to look after him. You could laugh, now, thinking about how wrong he’d been.

Elias is the most self-sufficient, independent person you know. You don’t think he’s ever needed anything from anyone. Like in hockey, where he can make the play and score the goal all at the same time, Elias has his life together.

Unlike you.

Despite the fact that Elias hadn’t needed much help from you, you had become very fast friends. His quick witted sarcasm always managed to make you laugh and he liked how upfront and honest you were with him about things. It was easy, too, to spend time together. With him living just across the hall, you found yourself wandering to his apartment whenever you were bored, and he showed up at yours often when he didn’t feel like cooking.

Just because he could cook, didn’t mean he always wanted to.

And ever since the two of you had become friends, Elias had your back. When you needed someone to water your plants, or feed your cat Puck – Brock had named him – or, apparently, bring you the important work papers that you forgot at home after having worked on them all weekend.

You groan as you flick through the papers. “I thought I was going to die. Without these I can’t finish my presentation.”

“When is it?” Elias asks, eyes searching behind you. You know he’s looking out for your asshole of a boss, who will use any excuse to yell at you, especially the unannounced visit of a friend.

“Tomorrow. I got all the content in these papers here, but I still have to make the PowerPoint.” You sigh. “It’s still so much work.”

“Oh.” Elias’ face lights up. “Almost forgot. Brought you this.” Triumphantly, he reaches down and comes up with a paper bag from your favorite coffee shop.

The words fall off your lips in a gasp. “You didn’t!”

“Strawberry scone and a large caramel macchiato with soy milk.” Elias grins. “I also got you a chocolate chip cookie for later.”

“Marry me,” you proclaim, as you make grabby hands for the bag. The coffee is precisely what you need and your mouth is already watering at the idea of the food.

“Get me a ring, then,” Elias jokes, as he starts getting up from the chair.

Something tightens in your stomach, so you quickly take a bite of the scone: anything to push those feelings to the side. It works a little, and at the very least it tastes amazing.

You’re just friends. If you were gonna be anything more, Elias would’ve made a move already. Or, if you’d been brave enough, you would’ve: but he’s never said anything to make you think he’s interested and quite frankly, you’re not that brave.

“Thank you,” you say, mouth still full of scone, and Elias wrinkles his nose at that as you knew he would.

“I’m going to the store now,” he says, “anything you want me to pick up for you?”

“Wine?” you ask, hopeful. “I’m gonna need it after today.”

Elias rolls his eyes at you, but when you come home after the most grueling day at work there’s a bottle of rosé sitting in your fridge, next to a bag full of your favorite Thai take out food.

Love you, you quickly text Elias, even though you know he can’t answer because the game is about to start.

You take some time showering and putting on comfortable clothes, then situate yourself on the couch and put on the game. It has already begun, and you know it’s not gonna be an easy one, against the Bruins.

It’s not until the first intermission, when you check your phone, that you see there’s a reply from Elias waiting for you.

It’s just a simple heart emoji, but it makes your heart race anyway.

2.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I can barely hear you.” Fiona’s tone is disapproving, and you pull your mouth away from where you’d pressed it into your arm to scream.

“I said, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

She laughs. “It’s just a car, Y/N.”

You don’t necessarily like your job, but Fiona is one of the reasons you’re still putting up with it. She’s not just a colleague anymore, slowly turning into a friend and someone you confide into about everything – even about your Elias problem – and you love her, but sometimes you could murder her.

“It’s not just a car,” you bite. “It’s my only mode of transportation, because you know how much I hate taking the bus, and it’s broken, and I probably can’t even afford to get it fixed. And now I have to walk home, and it’s raining.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Fiona admits.

After a long day at work, you couldn’t wait to get home and watch The Bachelor until you fell asleep, your cat in your lap. However, when you finally got away from the office and stepped into your car, it was clear the universe had different plans.

It didn’t start.

After trying approximately 15 times, you’d screamed, nearly cried, hit the steering wheel, and then went back inside to scream and cry a little more at Fiona’s desk.

“I just wanna go home, Fi.” You know you sound miserable, but you honestly can’t help it. Taking the bus always heightens your anxiety, so you avoid it at all costs: however, walking home in this pouring rain doesn’t seem like much fun either.

And Fiona can’t even bring you home, because she takes the bus to work like a normal person.

“There’s a simple solution to this, you know,” Fiona says. She starts to organize the papers on her desk, a clear sign that she’s getting ready to leave the office as well. “You could just call…”

“No,” you interrupt her, knowing exactly where she’s going with this. “I can’t call Elias. He’s got the boys over today and I won’t interrupt his fun with my misery. Besides, he does too much for me already, I can’t ask him for more.”

“Right,” Fiona drawls, “but when he hears that you were stuck here and didn’t call him…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

Elias would be furious.

One time, you were on a night out when you got a little too tipsy and didn’t realize your phone had died. By the time you noticed, all your friends had already jumped in their respective Ubers, but you had been too busy chatting with some girl you didn’t know to order yours, and now you couldn’t because you didn’t have a phone. 

You knew you could’ve asked any random person to order you an Uber, or at least to borrow their phone to call Elias – it’s not like you didn’t know his number by heart – but that felt like too much. It had been 3 am and he had a game the next day, so you decided to walk home.

When he found out the next day, he got so mad he didn’t talk to you for 4 days. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and just sat on his couch pouting at him until he spoke to you again.

“Something could’ve happened,” he’d muttered, explaining to you why he got mad in the first place. “And I’m your best friend, and you should know me enough to know that I would much rather you wake me up than you walk home alone.”

You did know that, and he was your best friend, and you’d promised him you’d never do it again.

It’s only that promise, that causes you to reach for your phone.

“I’m texting him, but if he’s busy, I’m walking,” you tell Fiona stubbornly. She ignores you, which is probably fair enough.

Hey, you busy right now? Are the guys still there?

The answer comes right away. What’s wrong?

Damn, he knows you too well. You quickly explain the situation and before you know it, Elias is on his way to come get you, and Fiona is bidding you goodbye after you promise her you’re fine on your own for the twenty minutes it’s gonna take Elias to get there.

You’re just checking your email on your phone when you hear the bell at the front door.

“I’m coming!” you call out. You hurry to grab your bags and then walk quickly to the door, where Elias is standing with his car keys between his fingers.

“So Bella finally gave up, huh?” he asks, a sly little smirk on his face. He always teases you with the fact that you named your car.

“Yes, and I know you told me,” you sigh, and it’s clear that he immediately – and correctly – reads your mood.

Without a word, he opens his arms, and you gratefully fall into them, hugging him tightly to your body. There’s very little in the world that brings you more comfort than one of Elias’ hugs: although being on Elias’ couch wearing one of his old hoodies watching some stupid reality show might come close.

“Let’s go home,” Elias finally mumbles, and he holds out an umbrella when he lets you go.

It’s raining really hard, and you know he has to park his car a little bit away because there’s no parking in front of your office, so you take it.

“You could’ve just called, I would’ve ran out,” you tell him sternly, but he shrugs.

“But then how would you have gotten the umbrella?”

You would tell him you’re not made of sugar, but as soon as you step outside the rain clatters loudly against the fabric of the umbrella and you realize you would’ve really, really hated to not have it, so you stay quiet.

Instead, you walk after him as he runs to his car and opens the passenger door for you. It’s still running, and the heater is on: only then do you realize you’re quite cold.

This morning they said it would be nice outside, so you didn’t bother to take a coat.

It’s quiet in the car for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the silence that only comes when two people understand each other, and combined with the soft music that is playing on the radio it lulls you into a false sense of comfort.

Until you realize something.

“Oh God,” you groan, “I’m gonna have to call someone to tow Bella to a mechanic.”

Elias raises an eyebrow. “Well, you could just leave her there.”

Normally you would’ve at least playfully punched his arm for the sarcastic tone in his voice, but right now you’re too busy freaking out.

“And how am I gonna get to work tomorrow? Don’t you dare say you’ll bring me cause I know you’ve got morning practice and it’s super out of your way. Fuck, why did this have to happen to me?”

You let your head fall against the window. The glass is cold against your cheek and it’s enough to stop the spiraling in your brain at least for a second.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice has lost all sarcastic edge. It’s gentle now, and he’s speaking low as if not to startle you. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll call the tow truck and the mechanic and get your car fixed. And Brock lives close enough that he can take me to and from practice and you can just take my car to work.”

It’s… a reasonable solution, but once again something that Elias has to go out of his way for, even just a little bit, and you feel something warm bloom inside your chest.

“Okay,” you answer, the stress already ebbing away. “Thank you. You’re the best.” You reach out and place your hand on his knee, squeezing slightly. “Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Elias mumbles something incoherent. You think you see some color on his cheeks, but surely that’s just because the heater is on, because there’s no way he’s blushing over something you said.

You turn off the heater, and let your thoughts wander as Elias drives you home.

3. 

Traveling is fun, but traveling for work is instantly a lot less fun. You really don’t know how Elias does it.

You’re feeling run down and jetlagged when you come back from your work trip, which is ridiculous cause you flew to Toronto, not to freaking Europe. But it’s late at night and the three days you were away were so busy you can barely remember sleeping at all.

Fiona slept on the plane, so she looks a little more alive than you when your feet touch the ground at Vancouver airport.

“Is Elias coming to pick you up?” Fiona asks, as you’re both walking through the gate.

You shake your head. “I’m sure he would’ve insisted if he could, but he’s in California right now. They played the Kings tonight and they’re playing the Sharks the day after tomorrow.”

“I wish I was in California,” Fiona says wistfully. It’s cold and wet in Vancouver and it wasn’t much better in Toronto. The tiredness doesn’t help: it feels as if the cold of the night is slowly creeping into your bones.

“Come on then, I’ll drop you off.” You thank Fiona and follow her to her car. Normally you wouldn’t have minded taking an Uber, but right now you just wanna get to bed as soon as possible.

“If I fall asleep, just let me sleep here,” you mumble, resting your head back against the head rest. Fiona laughs as she starts the car.

“No way, you’ll freeze to death.” She squints outside. “Do you think it’s gonna rain?”

“It always rains,” you say, despite the fact that it’s not raining at the moment.

Fiona turns onto the highway. “So, are you finally gonna put up that bookcase you bought?”

Involuntarily, you groan. “Stop, don’t remind me.”

Your old bookcase is big and ugly, and it has been a thorn in your eye ever since you moved in. The person that lived there before you left it there, and you only kept it because you couldn’t really afford not to.

Four weeks ago, you finally allowed yourself to buy a new, prettier bookcase.

But…

“It’s just so big,” you whine, repeating the excuses you’ve been giving Elias every single time he raises a judgmental eyebrow at the old bookcase still standing in your living room. “It’s gonna take forever to take it apart and then it’s gonna take me even longer to somehow get it all downstairs and get rid of it.”

“And then you have to build the new one,” Fiona nods understandingly. “And you’re not good with furniture.”

“Hey,” you protest, but it’s weak. You’re not good with furniture, which was proven when you tried to help Fiona move in and didn’t manage to help her put together anything at all. Instead she ended up with a table with three legs. 

You even tried to read the manual, but it’s just not your forte.

“I’ll do it,” you add, “I promise you I will. Just, maybe not this weekend…”

Fiona laughs, but she doesn’t call you out on the fact that it probably won’t happen during the week either.

Finally, you arrive at your building. You can’t wait to go to bed, and you thank Fiona multiple times before dragging your luggage upstairs. When you open the door to your apartment, Puck comes running up to you, meowing and weaving between your legs.

“Don’t be dramatic,” you tell the cat sternly. “Petey sent me many pictures of you sleeping in his lap and I know he feeds you chicken when he thinks I won’t notice, so you got spoiled this week.”

You lovingly scratch Puck’s ears, before flicking on the light and kicking the door behind you in the lock.

Instantly, you notice the difference.

Your apartment isn’t big: real estate in Vancouver isn’t cheap and your job isn’t great. You got this place mostly for the location, and you like the big windows in the apartment and how it manages to get in light even during the darkest of winter days.

One corner of your living room, however, was always darker than the others. The bookcase took away the entirety of the white wall, and it created a dim lit, sad looking corner.

Now, it’s open and bright, as your new bookcase stands proudly in its place.

There’s only one person who would’ve done that.

The phone rings a few times, but you know the Kings game ended a while ago so you let it ring. After a while, Elias picks up.

“Sorry for the background noise,” is the first thing he says. “We’re on the plane. Taking off in a few minutes, probably.”

In the background, you hear some yelling. Probably Jake.

“You put up my bookcase,” you blurt out, ignoring Elias’ statement. “You put it up and all the books are in it and the other one is gone.”

Elias sounds a little smug when he answers. “Well, it’s not like you were ever gonna do it.”

“Thank you.” To your own horror, you can feel tears burning behind your eyes. “Elias, seriously…”

“It’s nothing.” You can hear Elias’ smile even over the phone: you know everyone always makes fun of his deadpan tone when he talks to media but with his friends, his voice always betrays everything he’s feeling. “I know you were worried about it, and I know how much you hated that old one.” He laughs. “I get why now, by the way. It took me and Brock like four hours to get that thing out.”

“Brock helped too?”

“He did.” Elias is silent for a while, but in the background you hear another voice. “Brock says to tell you that I forced him. But that’s not entirely true.”

Entirely. You know Elias definitely did force him.

“Tell him thank you too.”

“He says you’re welcome,” Elias says, quick enough that it makes you think Brock didn’t say that at all. “We’re about to take off so I have to put my phone on airplane mode. But call me tomorrow okay? I wanna hear about your work trip.”

“Okay.” For some reason, you can still feel the lump in your throat. You didn’t notice it momentarily, while you were focused on Elias’ and Brock’s bickering, but now it’s back, and with a vengeance.

Fuck. You just…

“I miss you.” You blurt it out before you can stop yourself and if anyone would ask, you would blame the exhaustion and the fact that Elias can’t see how wet your eyes are over the phone.

“I’ll be back soon,” he answers softly, and his voice is gentle in a way that makes you think he knows about the tears, anyway. “And when I am, we’re gonna take a whole night to eat food and stare at that bookcase, because it needs to be appreciated after the effort I had to put in to build it.”

You laugh before quietly saying goodbye to Elias and hanging up the phone.

In the kitchen, Puck sits in front of the fridge. When you open it there’s a pan with chicken.

For Puck the note next to it says, and you send Elias a picture of Puck with his chicken.

“He spoils you,” you tell your cat. You decide to ignore the fact that he kinda spoils you, too.

4. 

When you open the door to your apartment, you’re met with the smell of garlic.

After yet another shitty day at work, you can already feel the lump in your throat building again. You didn’t even tell him, this time. In fact, you carefully avoided his texts because you knew he’d clock that something was wrong.

Fuck. That’s probably where you went wrong in the first place; usually you never ignored Elias’ texts.

“Hello?” you call out into your own apartment.

There’s soft music playing and there’s light coming from the living room, but the amazing smell that tickles your senses is clearly coming from the kitchen, so that’s where you go.

Elias is standing at your kitchen counter, chopping a carrot.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling your way. “I’m making dinner.”

It’s almost too much, how domestic it looks. And how right: like he belongs there in your space, waiting for you to come home.

Suddenly there’s the overwhelming urge to go towards him, so you do. His arm immediately lifts, creating space for you in the crook of his body, and you slip under his arm easily.

“How did you know?” you mumble into the fabric of his worn Canucks hoodie. It smells like him, a scent that reminds you of home as much as your mother’s signature dish.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” Elias hums. His arm tightens around your body. “So I figured you could use some good food and a bath.” His head motions towards the general direction of the bathroom. “I’m running it as we speak.”

God. You love him.

It hits you, then. You knew you had a crush on him, knew you wanted to kiss him and hold his hand and feel his hands on you. But it’s more than that, now.

It’s the realization that you want to share everything with him. The ups and the downs. The bad nights and the bright mornings. You want him in your kitchen, but more than that, you want it to be his kitchen, too.

Fuck. You’re so royally screwed.

Because he does this, and he does so much for you, but he’s never said anything, anything at all, to indicate that he wants that. Or has even considered it, thought about it.

Maybe it’s never even crossed his mind. Maybe he takes care of you like he would take care of a sister.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice is gentle as it pulls you out of your thoughts, back down to earth. “You’re shaking. Go take a bath, and I’ll finish dinner, and then we’ll watch How I Met Your Mother. I wanted to watch the next episode but I waited for you.” His grin is a little lopsided. “Isn’t that chivalrous of me?”

It is, and normally you would tease him for it, but you can’t really think or speak, so you just nod.

“There’s wine in the fridge, if you want a glass,” Elias says. He holds out a wine glass, already waiting for you on the counter.

And who cares that it’s only a Tuesday: you deserve it, damn it, so you open the fridge to find the wine.

You’re met with more than just that.

“You bought groceries?” you ask, your eyes traveling through your fridge. You hadn’t gone grocery shopping in like a week, and when you left for work this morning the fridge was basically empty. Now it’s so full you wonder how you’re gonna close the door.

“How else was I gonna cook anything? You only had cat food left,” Elias tuts. You’re not surprised to find Puck at Elias’ feet, waiting for him to inevitably slip him some human food.

“Did you get…”

“Your coconut yoghurt? Yes.”

He did, and he got basically all your staples, and nothing you wouldn’t buy yourself.

“Honestly,” you say, as you finally reach for the bottle and pull your head out of the fridge. “I don’t know what to say, Petey. Thank you. I had such a sucky day and now it’s already endlessly better.”

This time you know you’re not imagining the flush on Elias’ cheeks.

“It’s fine,” he says. “You should go take that bath before it goes cold.”

You want to say more: to tell him time and time again how amazing he is, how much he means to you, how thankful you are. But you know once you start, you can’t be trusted to not say the one thing you don’t think he wants to hear.

So you say nothing, and simply go to take your bath.

+1

But you think about it.

You think about it all throughout Christmas, where you don’t see Elias at all. You think about it during NYE, when you get a drunk SnapChat from Elias with his brother, right at midnight.

At least, you figure, he’s not kissing any girls.

You’re not kissing any boys, either. You’re at a NYE party with Fiona and it’s fun, it is, but it’s not the same as it would be if Elias wasn’t all the way in Sweden.

You miss him like a limb, and you know it’s not fair because he rarely gets time to go home to Sweden and he deserves that time with his family, but you can’t say you didn’t wish his time off ended already.

When it finally does, it’s not Elias you see first. Troy is throwing a late New Years party, just to welcome everyone back to Vancouver as they get ready to start the season back up, and when you arrive at his house it’s early enough in the evening that there’s only a handful of people there.

“Y/N!” Brock calls out, opening his arms to give you a big hug as you enter. “Missed you!”

You laugh. “Get off of me, you giant. I’m gonna drop the wine.”

“Not the wine,” Troy says dramatically, tearing it out of your hands. His eyes are sparkling when he thanks and hugs you, and then Brock is ushering you into the living room, where Jake is talking with Quinn.

Or talking at Quinn. To be honest, you never really know when Quinn is paying attention.

“Y/N!” Jake exclaims, much like Brock had. “I’m glad you’re here, we need your input on something.”

“Okay?” you ask, curiosity instantly taking over. Whenever Jake and Brock get together, it promises to be an interesting evening.

“We’re trying to decide Brock’s love language.”

It’s sudden enough that you laugh. “His what?”

“Love language,” Jake explains. “Like, how he shows people he loves them. He says it’s quality time, but I think it could be physical touch. He’s always touching people.”

“Jake is deflecting because his love language is physical touch,” Brock scowls. “I think I know my own love language, Tuna.”

“Hold on.” Unfortunately, you have to press the pause button on their discussion. “What options do we have?”

You’ve got no idea where they got this from, but it doesn’t really matter. You’re always down to share your opinion on stupid stuff with your favorite boys.

“There’s gifts, quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation, and…” Brock pauses, and you can nearly see the wheels in his head turning.

“Acts of service,” Quinn offers, which proves that he was actually paying attention.

“Mine is physical touch,” Jake says determinedly. “When I care about someone, I always wanna be touching them, and when I’m in love with someone that’s like twenty times worse.”

“Poor girl,” Quinn mutters, and the conversation gets paused in order for Jake to put Quinn in a headlock.

“I think yours is quality time, actually,” you tell Brock when Jake is done murdering the rookie. “Your ex was always on her phone during your date nights and I remember it drove you crazy.”

“See,” Brock says proudly. “Quality time baby. If I’m there I’m there.”

“What about yours, Huggy?” Jake asks. “Physical touch would make sense, since you’re called Huggy.”

“I’m not called Huggy,” Quinn deadpans. His face is devoid of any emotion, but you know him well enough to recognize the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He reminds you of Elias, when he does that. “And if we were going by nicknames your love language would be fishing.”

Everyone cracks up on that, and then the doorbell rings and Bo arrives.

The topic gets put on hold, then, because Bo is instantly talking about Gunnar’s first Christmas and Brock is talking about becoming an uncle again and you feel warm and happy on the couch with your wine, squeezed between Brock and Troy.

Until, a little later, you realize someone is missing.

“Where’s Petey?” you ask Troy. “Isn’t he coming?”

Troy shrugs. “Should do. But you never know with Pete.”

It’s not entirely true: if Elias promises he’ll be there, he will be there. But, to be fair, he usually doesn’t promise that to anyone but you, and you hadn’t asked him to come, this time.

You figured he just would.

“What about Petey’s love language?” Brock asks idly, not knowing he’s opening Pandora’s box for you. “Definitely not words of affirmation, huh.”

Troy laughs.

“Nah, Petey’s an acts of service guy. He’s always doing shit for Y/N.”

You would protest if you trusted your voice not to shake. As it is, you stay quiet and hope the flush on your cheeks gets mistaken for a wine flush, and not an Elias flush.

Brock brightens. “Oh, yeah! Getting her car fixed, making dinner, building her stupid bookshelf, feeding her cat… He is a typical acts of service guy.” He bumps against your shoulder playfully. “I hope you appreciate his showing of love, Y/N. He rarely does that shit for me.”

Troy snorts. “That’s cause he’s not in love with you, Boes.”

“He’s not in love with me either!” you squeak, unable to stay quiet any longer. You know if you don’t derail this trail of thought very soon, it’s gonna end badly for you.

Both Troy and Brock look unimpressed, at that statement.

“Yes, he is,” Brock says slowly, as if explaining something to an unruly child. “He drops whatever he has going on to do small things that make your life easier. That’s literally the same as him screaming I’m in love with you from the highest rooftop in Vancouver.”

“He’s not like you,” Troy continues, a little more gentle. “When people have different love languages, they don’t always understand what the other is trying to say. Your love language is words of affirmation. You’re always telling Petey how amazing he is. But he doesn’t see that as a declaration of love, or whatever. He thinks you tell everyone that they’re amazing.”

You do, to be fair, but not as often as you tell Elias. Because he’s…

Well. Amazing would be an understatement, actually. He’s everything to you.  

Things are starting to make sense, like puzzle pieces fitting into place. Suddenly, you start wondering if there’s more to his acts of service than plain friendship, or him being a good guy.

It’s not like he does stuff like that for all his friends. He helps them out, sure, but he always goes above and beyond for you, usually not even needing to be asked.

But he’s not in love with you, surely? He hasn’t said anything…

But maybe words aren’t his thing. Not like they are yours: the way you can’t stop yourself from gushing into Elias’ ear even when you know you should stop.

What if Brock and Troy are right?

You don’t get much time to think it through, because that’s when Elias finally appears in Troy’s living room, looking endlessly cool in his blue sweater, wearing his glasses. He’s sending death glares at Jake, who wolf whistles from the corner, but then his eyes meet yours and they soften.

“Hi there,” he smiles, reaching out to you. You immediately jump up and launch yourself at him, any previous conversation about the two of you momentarily forgotten as you curl your body into his, his arms tightening around your waist.

“Missed you,” you hum into his shoulder, and you’re rewarded with a grin you can feel against the skin of your neck.

“Are you sure hers isn’t physical touch?” you hear Brock ponder, and you would flip him off if you could be bothered.

You can’t. All you can be bothered doing is plastering yourself to Elias’ side and not leaving him alone even for a second, the rest of the night.

It works at least for a while, until he asks: “Do you want another drink?”

“I’ll go with you,” you say, not willing to part with him yet, and you ignore the knowing look Brock shoots you as the two of you find your way to the kitchen.

Elias immediately goes for the wine, because he knows you better than anyone else.

“I asked my dad about the job,” Elias mentions casually, as if it’s not a big deal at all. “He thinks he can get you an interview.”

“Wait, what?”

Suddenly your heart is ticking in your throat. Before he left for Sweden, Elias had mentioned that his dad knows a guy who works for a similar company as you’re working for now: apart from the shitty boss you have or the ridiculous low salary you get paid. It’s your job, but better, and Elias promised you he’d get his dad to ask if there were any open positions.

There were. And you sent in your application not thinking there was gonna come much from it, but now…

Something warm washes through your chest, like your heart grew three sizes. Of course he asked, of course he made it happen. Looking out for you, always and at any time, from any distance.

“It’s not a done deal,” Elias warns, oblivious to your mental breakdown. “But he said he thinks they’ll like you and he’ll put in a good word for you.”

You squeal and throw yourself in his direction once again. Elias laughs as he catches you, fingers curling in your hair where your face is pressed against his chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“It’s about time you get rid of that dumb job.” You can hear the frown in Elias’ voice. “They don’t take good care of you at all, it’s not good for you.” The distaste is obvious and it’s adorable. You pull away.

“I don’t need them to,” you say, carefully. You can still hear Brock’s words in your voice, and you figure it’s worth a try, probably. “Because you’re always there to take care of me.”

Elias’ cheeks darken substantially.

“I mean it when I say I don’t know what I’d do without you, Elias.”

“You’d be fine,” Elias waves away the compliment as you figured he would. But this time you’re not backing down.

“Maybe I would be. But I wouldn’t be as happy.”

They say when you really love a person, you’ve got to show them. But you’ve never really known how to do that, instead you always use your words to tell them. But it seems like Elias isn’t believing you, not even now.

And you’ve got to fix that.

It’s not until you’re in Elias’ car on the way back home that you bring it up again. The party wasn’t really the time and place, but the conversation with Brock and the guys has been nagging in the back of your mind since it happened.

If you didn’t realize Elias’ acts of service meant something, maybe he doesn’t realize your words of affirmation mean something. And even if it doesn’t mean he’s in love with you – you’re really not that sure about that – you need him to at least know how much you appreciate him.

“You know I’m always there for you, right?” you start, carefully breaking the silence in the car. Elias shoots you a glance from behind the steering wheel.

“What?”

“Like, even if I’m maybe not as good as you are at realizing what you need me to do, if there’s ever anything I can do to help make your life a little easier or better I wanna do it. I’d do anything for you.”

It’s too honest, probably, and too much all at the same time. But Elias doesn’t look that surprised. In fact, there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You make my life better by just being you, Y/N. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you wonder how you’re gonna get through this conversation. But it’s one that needs to be held, so you press on.

“What is your love language, Elias?”

Now he frowns. “Have you been talking to Brock?”

Of course Brock talked to Elias before he talked to you. The traitor.

You decide to ignore that, for now. You’ll talk to Brock later.

“You know my love language is words of affirmation, right?”

Elias shrugs. “Brock did say that, but I didn’t know what you thought it was.”

“And yours is acts of service,�� you hazard a guess. You keep your eyes firmly on Elias’ face, which is the only reason you catch the slight change in his expression.

Like a wall, crossing over his features. He’s trying to protect himself, although you have no idea why. Does he not get where you’re going with this?

“I can tune it down if you want me to,” he says, a little grumpily. He’s staring straight ahead at the road, stubbornly refusing to look your way.

And oh God, he’s truly not getting it, and this is going the exact opposite way you want it to go.

Troy did say that when people’s love languages don’t match, they don’t understand what the other is trying to say. But you honestly don’t know how you can make it any more clear to Elias.

Well, except…

“I love you,” you blurt out. “Like, in love with you love you.”

The words ring loudly in the quiet car. For a second, nothing about Elias’ expression, almost like he didn’t hear you. You can almost feel your heart sink into your stomach.

Then, he pulls over the car.

It comes to a stop at the side of the road, two wheels on the pavement and two still on the road. It is, objectively, not super safe, but it’s also 3am and there’s no other cars to be seen. Very carefully, without looking at you still, Elias turns on the hazard lights.

And then finally, finally, he turns to you and kisses you.

You weren’t expecting it but it doesn’t really matter: it’s like your heart and head both light on fire, and everything outside of the car simply disappears. It’s just you and Elias, and his lips on yours and his hands on your body.

It feels right. Like it was always meant to end up like this.

After what feels like ages, he pulls away. He’s smiling, and his eyes are bright blue in the dark car.

“I thought you said those kinda things to everyone,” he admits, quietly. His thumb is rubbing your side, his eyes fixed on that spot. Almost as if he can’t really believe he’s allowed to do that.

You don’t want him to ever do anything else.

“I thought you did those kinda things for everyone,” you shoot back.

Elias raises one eyebrow. “That bookcase weighed at least 300 pounds.”

You can’t help it: giggles are escaping your lips and suddenly you’re both laughing. The tension in the car dissipates instantly, and suddenly it’s just Elias again, your best friend.

Your best friend that you’re now allowed to kiss. So you lean in and press your lips against his again.

After all, kissing is a love language you think everyone understands.

(+2)

“I’m home!” Elias’ voice sounds through the empty apartment, and you immediately leave your spot behind the kitchen counter to run into the hallway.

With a squeal, you fly towards him, and he catches you easily as you knew he would.

“Hey, babe,” he laughs quietly, pressing a kiss into your hair before returning the hug fully. “Is that my sweater?”

“Maybe,” you admit, as Elias’ hands make their way under his own blue sweater, that you definitely steal from him most evenings. “Missed you. And I’m very proud of you.”

“I missed you too,” he answers. “Watched the game?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes, even though you know he can’t see it with your face still buried in his shoulder. “A hat trick, huh? I think that needs to be celebrated.”

“Oh?” Elias pulls away then, one eyebrow raised and a cheeky twinkle in his eyes.

“Not like that,” you scold him, lightly punching his arm. “Or, maybe like that. But first, I made Kalops.”

At the mention of his favorite Swedish food, Elias’ face lights up. A while ago, you asked his mom for her recipe and it’s one of the only Swedish dishes you can make, but you make it well.

“Also,” you continue, as you take his hand and start leading him towards the kitchen, so he can sit at the counter while you cook as he always does, “I called the electrician so the TV is already fixed. I know you could have done it, but I decided I’d much rather use that time to hang out with you. I took Puck to get his shots at the vet and I also used my free afternoon to take your car through the car wash.”

When you reach the kitchen, you twirl around towards Elias and his arms immediately circle around your waist.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he mutters, taking the opportunity to kiss you once more. “But thank you. I love that you took the time to take care of that for me. And I love you.”

“Look at us,” you tease, lightly tugging at the ends of Elias’ hair. “Speaking each other’s love language like that.”

“Perfect couple,” Elias agrees, and you smile back at him.

Somehow, you and Elias managed to create a language of your own: one that you could speak with nobody else. But luckily, you don’t have to.

Cause he came home to your shared apartment like he always does, and well. That’s the biggest act of service he could do for you.  

[starlitheaven]

♡𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨’𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮♡

Headcanons surrounding his favorite gift from you. This is so self-indulgent I can’t even pretend lol. Originally sent this as an ask to the lovely @saintchrollo, but I just have so many thoughts on how this goes + headcanons surrounding it, that I wanted to elaborate! 

One of the main reasons you both worked well in a relationship was that you were both autonomous people. 

He obviously had “work” (early in the relationship you had a feeling it was something sketchy but didn’t bother questioning it. Once you find out, you have a hard time calling it work lmao) and you were a full time student 

Although you two didn’t see each other very often, as he was gone for weeks or even over a month at times, you talked as often as you could. He didn’t seem to be much of a texter, but he absolutely adored whenever you sent him pictures of yourself. Especially when you wore clothes with the money he sends you (but he somehow doesn’t think of himself as a sugar daddy yet you do lmao)

(He’s mortified when he finds out you briefly had his contact name as “Sugar Daddy” with a money and heart emoji)

oh, and phone calls. One in the morning, and one at night. Those seem to be more important to him. Phone sex happens at either one, though.

Anyway, no matter how long he’s gone for, he always brings you back flowers. He’ll sometimes bring you all sorts of gifts or trinkets, but the flowers are always a must. 

He doesn’t make a big deal of them, he just likes coming back to you with flowers. He’ll simply say something like “Your dining table could use some, that’s all.”

This also gives him a reason to gift you vintage hand cut crystal vases, not bothering to tell you exactly how he got them or how valuable they are. He tries not to cringe when he’s away and you text him a photo of one shattered on your kitchen floor with a simple “i accidentally dropped it, sorry lovely :(“

You soon become so used to having beautiful flower arrangements in your dining room table. After a long and trying day, you come home with sagged shoulders and set your bag down on the table. The sight of the beautiful flowers (that time it was a pink strawflower arrangement) makes you think of the smell of his cologne when you had greeted him back, flowers in hand, with a long hug and kiss to his jaw.

They begin to bring you comfort. It reminds you of his affection, and how romantic he is without meaning to be. Sometimes it feels like all he does is give, give, give. 

For someone who’s the opposite of materialistic, Chrollo likes to give you small gifts, clothes, flowers, compliments (these are endless). It feels like so much compared to what you’re able to give him. 

Then again, one of the reasons you don’t know what to gift him aside books is that he doesn’t reveal much about himself. You’ve never met anyone who was as private and reserved as he is, and was so nonchalant about it. You knew that he’s revealed more to you than he planned to, and he loves how much of yourself you give him.

To him, everything about you is the greatest gift of all. You feel this when he lays himself on top of you, resting his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat as you tell him stories about your life and play with his hair. 

So you decide to show him how much you love what he does for you.

Every time he returns to you and brings you flowers, you save one of each and press them into a book. Deciding on a book to use is overwhelming considering how many he loves or how many remind you of him.

You decide on an unassuming book, but the most intimate. You remember him telling you about how he’d come across things as a child: from dumps of trash. Books were always his favorite, and he read every legible book he could find. 

Most were nonfiction with a variety of subjects, some biographies of people he didn’t know, and some fiction. One of his first favorite books was an old children’s book. 

It was about a boy who went on an adventure to see the world and meet new people. As a child, it was fascinating for him to read about places with clean and clear water, crisp fresh air, and blue skies. The boy never had to resort to eating dirt or from the trash to fill and empty stomach. 

When Chrollo had first told you this, he said it so casually. As if he was simply intrigued by something so different from his own life. Though you knew it must have meant something to him and how he felt as a child if he’s still fond of such a book. 

So, after some time, you pressed enough flowers into a copy of that book and gifted it to him on your anniversary. 

He clearly never expected something like that, especially after seeing the book title and recognizing the flowers. His gratitude, his touches, the mindblowingly romantic sex, and the way he began to slowly open up more was the closest to an I love you that you’d get from him. 

One of the things about your lover, though, is that he is always a step ahead. This man is always ready to one up anyone. 

He begins to start searching for rare (sometimes endangered but you don’t know this) flowers to gift back to you. He knows that you’ll be upset if you learned any of them went extinct from this, so he only takes one of each. He presses them into a book of love poems (in the original print but you don’t know this either!! He knows how overwhelmed you’d be at having so many coveted items) and writes small descriptions of them on small post-its. 

When he gifts this to you, you just know you may never be able to win with him on this. 

[utterlyinevitable]

Carnival

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 2.5k Warning: fluff and a few curse words (and PINING!)   Summary: There’s a carnival down by the bay and Becca ditches her friends to spend her special day with Ethan. This takes place during OHSY. 

A/N: As always thanks to @aylamwrites​ for pre-reading. Also sorry this has taken so long, anon! Hope you’re happy with it 😬

________________________________________

It was a warm summer day and the gang of residents finally had a Sunday off together in what felt like months. Elijah, Jackie, Sienna, Becca, Bryce and Kyra were all sprawled around the living room of the former four’s apartment, their skin itching with heat.

“I’m going to die if we don’t get the A.C. fixed,“ Becca groaned from the wooden floor.

“I called Farley,” Sienna noted from the corner of the couch. “He said someone’s coming Monday morning.“

Bryce whined, “But it’s 90 degrees today!” He was parallel to Becca, cuddling his discarded shirt as a pillow.  

“Don’t you have your own place?“ Jackie retorted. 

Bryce reached over to pat Becca’s stomach and responded, “I’d choose sweating my balls off with my best pal over me-time any day.“

Jackie squinted her eyes, still not too sure of the dynamic between The B’s. 

Elijah was scrolling through Pictagram when he piped in, “Guys, did you know there’s a carnival in Charlestown?”  

The friends responded with mixed grumbles of “no”, “really?”, and one “aren’t we too old for rides?”. 

“Says there’s a beer garden, and it’s by the water,” he added in hopes of coaxing his friends into a little adventure. 

It was a unanimous decision for the residents to leave the uncomfortable heat of the apartment and head to the park. The carnival was down by the bay and in support of the Boston Historical Society. The group circled the grounds twice, taking time to play one of those water racing games and sample all that the best food trucks Boston have to offer. 

The tap stall was by far their favorite. The gray truck was home to six different beers and even had a game bolted to the passenger side. If you managed to get all 3 rings on the vertically hanging and impossibly tiny peg, you got a free pint and a commemorative mug. Bryce managed to win free pints for himself, Becca and Kyra - although Kyra used the cancer card when the last ring spun along the peg tantalizingly slowly before falling off the side. Bryce shot her a disapproving look as Kyra accepted the free drink. The three winners stood by while Jackie fought with the worker about how this game was completely rigged, so desperately wanting a win and free beer. 

Filling up her second mug as she waited, Becca snapped a commemorative photo of her day drunk state with Bryce’s megawatt smile and wink photobombing in the background. Cheekily, she texted it to Ethan. They were friends after all. The two hadn’t crossed any intimate lines since he returned from the Amazon, though they could be caught holding hands time and time again. 

Before she could respond back she was being dragged away. 

“Come on, Becks!” 

Bryce led them to the photobooth where they all took a string of silly pictures. It was fun to immortalize this day, but Bryce had an ulterior motive. 

“Happy Birthday, Becks,” he whispered in her ear as the six of them posed with various props. 

She looked over at the bright eyed and absolutely perfect man next to her, “How did you -?” 

Becca didn’t like birthdays and she certainly didn’t tell people when hers was. The only people who knew the significance of today were her mother, aunt, and HR representative at Edenbrook.  

All he offered was a wiggle of his manicured brows and “I have my ways of persuasion.” 

“Hospital database?” she matched.   

Bryce chuckled and slung an arm over his best friend’s shoulders, “I’ll never tell.”  

As the sweltering afternoon set in, the group settled into the grass of the secluded beer garden and enjoyed the band playing some classic rock cover songs. She was leaning into Bryce when Becca noticed a familiar gray sweater passing by. 

Her eyes furrowed thinking she was hallucinating. Who in their right mind wears a cardigan in this heat!? After blinking a few times she was certain he wasn’t a figment of her imagination.  

“Be right back,” she hopped up so quickly she nudged Bryce in the ribs. “Sorry,” she mouthed as she ran after the tall and notably refined figure she’s come to admire.  

“Hey!” she called from six feet away, “Dr. Grumpy!” 

Ethan turned towards the recognizable sing-song voice and let her catch up to him. 

Becca had the biggest smile plastered onto her sun kissed cheeks when she said, “You came.” 

“It’d be a shame not to support such a worthwhile cause,” he shrugged as he crossed his arms, trying hard not to let her smile infect him. “Also there’s a gourmet mac and cheese truck I’ve heard is a must-try.”  

In her current tipsy state she didn’t catch most of his words but knew she texted him about Mac Attack’s presence as a follow up to their conversation about comfort food from last week. 

With a deviously elated smile, Becca slung her arm through his and tugged, “Lets go.” 

Ethan was stunned by her forwardness in such a public place, however, for some reason he didn’t care. 

“Where to?” he asked with a faint smirk as he shuffled along with her.  

“I’ve been thinking about fried Oreo’s all day,” Becca all but moaned, licking her lips.  

He quipped, “I’d like some sustenance to combat the imminent heart attack.”  

“Mac Attack it is!” she said in complete elation before skipping along, dragging Ethan alongside her. 

They stood fourth in line at the popular bright yellow and red food truck. The clear blue sky started to turn shades of wandering pink and purple as the sun began to set. Becca was staring up at the sky as Ethan was studying the limited menu with distaste.    

“That looks awful,” Ethan groaned, pointing at the bucket of everything-on-top gooey mac-and-cheese one of the patrons was walking away with. 

“Well if you didn’t want to eat greasy comfort food, why’d you come?”  

Ethan dismissed her comment, sheepishly caving, “Fine, let’s share.” The beam radiating off her freckled cheeks was all the reassurance he needed. “You like truffles?” 

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’. “I like crispy onions and bacon.” 

Their eyes met and Ethan let the slightest of smiles find home on his lips. 

Ethan paid for the meal and the two carried the carton over to an empty wooden picnic bench. He held the cheesy heaven in his large palm stably for them to pick at with their two-pronged forks.  

“I concede,” Ethan began after the second forkful, “This is rather tasty.”  

“Told you!” Becca lit up. “And you should wash it down with…” she patted her body and looked around their seating area for her mug. “Crap, I left it with Bryce.” Her doe brown eyes went wide as realization washed over her. “Shit, how long have I been gone for?” she said more to herself.  

Becca stood up, grabbing her phone from her jean short pocket and texted the group chat a single emoji. 

“All good.” She put the phone back in its place and bent down to shove the last big forkful of gooey goodness into her mouth. “Whatcha wanna do now?” Ethan gazed at her as she not-so-eloquently spoke with a mouthful. “Riiiides?”  

“I don’t do rides.” 

“Heh,” she tried and wonderfully failed to hide her smirk at the naughty remark she could have made. One and a half more beers and she would have made it. 

He raised a questioning eyebrow. 

“Your options are: ferris wheel, sizzler, or photobooth and beer garden,” she listed off a few things she wouldn’t mind doing. “Fair warning, my friends are camped out in the beer garden.” 

He sighed, “Ferris wheel.”  

“So romantic!” she winked. 

“I regret this already.” 

The two chucked the rubbish in the nearest garbage pail and made their way to the side of the park with the rides. They walked side by side, their hands brushing against the other’s every now and again. In the bubble of waning alcohol and heat of this surprising summer day her pinky extended to caress his before capturing it as her own.  

Not far from the Ferris wheel entrance, they noticed Baz, Zaid and Ines in conversation by the ticket booth. With a timid look at one another Ethan took her whole hand in his and promptly changed course; 

“Photobooth.” 

She can’t say she minded. 

Becca tugged back on his hand stopping him in his tracks. Ethan whipped around, eyes pleading. He did not want to be caught, lest by Baz. 

“Beer first. You gotta catch up,” she enlightened. “I don’t want four photos of Dr. Grouch. I want Ethan.” 

Lucky enough they were at the east entrance while her friends were still camped out by the west. Even more in Ethan’s favor, one of the stalls was a local whiskey distillery. 

“Someone knew you were coming,” Becca joked as she pointed to the wooden stall. 

After some bargaining, the doctors were graciously allowed to down two flights of samples in exchange for Ethan placing a decent-sized delivery order. 

“Last one.” He inspected the liquid. “I will not be offended if you can’t stomach it. Though I will judge you.” He lifted the dixie cup up and she saluted hers as well. 

The thick brown solvent smelled like sweet gasoline and tingled against her tongue. Becca pursed her lips in an attempt to keep an indifferent face. She couldn’t do it. Her mouth begged for air and a chaser. “It burns,” she choked. 

Everything about Becca was endearing. Her cheeks were flushed and her freckles were more prominent than he had ever seen, even in the dusk and illuminated by harsh floodlights. A brisk night breeze washed over them sending a shiver up her spine. Without a second thought, Ethan shrugged out of his cardigan, holding it open for her. 

Becca closed the gap between them, turning her back and slipping her arms into the baggy sleeves of the soft fabric. The closeness and wafts of his cologne were another type of intoxicating. She fell into it. Her back pressed into Ethan’s chest, she tilted to see the ebullient blue eyes gazing down at her. His supple lips parted. The pleasant whiskey-laced breaths enticing her.  

Their locked eyes were glazed, a telling signal that it was about time to let loose. 

Ethan licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Where’s this godforsaken photobooth?”  

With the kindest of smiles she broke the trance, pulling his cardigan tightly around her and moving onto the next activity. 

They moseyed on over to the photobooth, coming full circle on her special day out. 

Being just over 6’4”, Ethan was too tall and the photographer signaled him to sit on the stool. Becca gazed at the box of props in consideration, deciding to go au naturale. She already had the silly photos from earlier, anyway. Looking at Ethan sitting there impatiently Becca bit her lip, deciding on an audacious move. 

She sauntered over, fitting herself perfectly in the space between his legs. She perched herself on his left thigh and draped her arm over the back of his shoulders, feeling every tense muscle along his upper back. Ethan reflexively closed his legs tight to give her better balance and wrapped his left arm securely around her waist. The much too big cardigan slipped, exposing her bare shoulders. Their eyes locked. His free hand flew to the exposed skin of her leg as it lifted to lay across his lap on its own volition. The corners of her lips perked before she turned her head to the camera, letting the photographer know they were more or less ready. 

They both gave their best candid smile. 

Click. 

Becca was so close. Ethan was drawn to the sweet scent of vanilla and gardenias on her neck. His eyes hooded as he relished her, and his left hand grabbed a wanton fistful of sweater.  

Click. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him inching closer, and tilted her head towards him. Their noses brushed. 

“It’s my birthday,” she whispered, their lips mere centimeters apart.  

“Is it?” he murmured. 

Click.  

She nodded sheepishly, her half-lidded eyes never leaving his.  

His wide eyes never looked more crystal clear. 

A signature smirk took place as he hinted, “Then I supposed ‘Happy Birthday’ is in order.” 

His heated breath was sweet with the last notes of whiskey and lingering of mint. It surrounded her, pulling her closer to him. His shallow breaths picked up as her lungs stopped working. It was as if he was breathing for her, giving her life in his simplistic existence. A fleeting pound against her side gave her a push.

She kissed him. For the first time in months they became one.   

Their lips overlapped, capturing his plump bottom lip between her own. His shoulders rounded under her touch. Neither dared to deepen the moment. Her tender kiss became bruising as he gripped her tighter, closer - as close as their flush bodies could become. 

Click. 

Ethan pulled away, “Reb-”  

She pressed her index finger to his lips. “Shh, that’s my present,” she sighed with her forehead against his.   

They sat there longer than acceptable, hearts racing and eyes conveying all they wish they had the courage to say. 

The loud grumble from the photographer brought them back into reality. 

Becca waited a few steps away from the booth as Ethan apologized and paid for the photographs. He bought two copies; folding one delicately in his wallet before walking over and handing the other to her. 

Becca stared at the first photo on the strip, her thumb hovering over their faces. “I can’t believe you’re smiling,” she contentedly muttered. Her eyes trailed down to the last. Looking up at Ethan she told him in earnest, “Best present ever.” 

Ethan’s hand flew to rub the back of his neck as he averted his gaze down to the dewy grass. “I - I knew it’s your birthday, Rookie.”  

She raised a brow, “Came down to celebrate with me?”  

“Something like that.”

Becca found the hidden smile in his features instantly. She went to take a step closer to him, daring for their lips to meet once more. 

But the universe had other plans.  

The loud bellowing voice stopped her motions, “Becks!”  

“Becca!” another rang.  

“Over here!” Bryce shouted once more from a fried food stand. 

They both let out a breath of air. 

Becca bit her lip as she looked from Ethan to Bryce and back to Ethan. “I… should go.” 

Deep brown met clouded blue, both filled with restrained sorrow.  

“Don’t get into any trouble.”  

“No promises.” She winked as she slipped out of his sweater. He accepted the fabric, now envious of how it was able to hold her all evening long. A lightbulb went off in Ethan’s mind as she started to turn away.   

“Oh.. right,” Ethan called her back to attention. She spun around, hopeful. “Here.” He handed her an ivory envelope from his back pocket with her name written out in his fluid script.  

She held the card in the same hand as the photos, looking down at it longingly. “Thank you.” Becca brought the weighted paper up to linger over her heart as she took one more look up at his sapphire blue eyes glistening along with the stars. 

Ethan gave a single nod, “See you tomorrow, Rookie.”  

________________________________________

Taglist: @ohchoices​ @dulceghernandez​ @aylamreads​ @binny1985​ @ramseysno1rookie​ @interobanginyourmom​ @queencarb​ @perriewinklenerdie @rookiefromedenbrook @eramsey28​ @choicesficwriterscreations​ @heauxplesslydevoted @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @purpledragonturtles​ @ramseyandrys​ @ermidc​ @mrsdrakewalkerblog​ @doilooklikeiknow​ @overwhelminglyaquarius @drethanramslay @edgiestwinter @rookieoh​ @lucy-268​ @mvalentine​ @lilyvalentine​ @starrystarrytrouble​ @angela8756​​ @pitchblackstars @custaroonie​ @ezekielbhandarivalleros @sanchita012​ @thegreentwin @openheart​   @tsrookie​​ @adrex04​​ @togetherwearerapture​​

[forevercloudnine]

new 52 scarebat ship meme

(I had @heroes-etc​ give me more questions, but for scarebat this time, since we talk about it 24/7 but I never post about it. These are from this ship meme.)

4. Their favorite physical feature on each other?

There’s only one feature of Bruce’s appearance that’s scarier when he’s not wearing the batsuit, and that’s his creepy blue eyes. Especially the way Greg Capullo draws them where they’re sickly pale and have ridiculously constricted pupils.

So his eyes would definitely be in the running for Jonathan’s favorite feature, even if seeing them would require Bruce’s mask to be off, which is something New 52 Scarecrow explicitly avoids. Yes, that character trait only exists to justify why Batman’s identity is still secret after Scarecrow mind controls and subsequently institutionalizes him in “Gothtopia,” but I think it’s interesting so I’m going to pretend it’s not shoe-horned in there for meta reasons.

Actually having to see Bruce without the cowl on would definitely permanently break the illusion of Batman as a nightmarish inhuman bat demon, which I’m sure is a large part of the appeal for anyone as obsessed with fear as Jonathan Crane. But Bruce’s creepy eyes would be a serious consolation prize. 

Bruce’s favorite of Jonathan’s physical features is rough, because Jonathan is famously not great re: physical features. I’m going to say his mouth, because a) that’s where the snark comes from, and b) the New 52 establishes that in one of their earlier encounters, Jonathan had sewn his own mouth shut, so it’s one of those things where a bad first impression turned positive later on leads to more fondness than if you’d made a good impression in the first place.

I just looked up the panel where he does it and I DID forget how incredibly gross his lips look here, which makes the fact that I have chosen it as Bruce’s feature seem really funny in retrospect. But I do think that seeing Jonathan’s mouth healed and unmutilated would be a reassuring reminder of how he’s stabilized since their first encounter, at least to the point that he isn’t hurting himself anymore. Also, Bruce buys him a lot of chapstick.

Bonus alternate answer that did not make it into the Google Doc:

9. How open are they with their feelings?

Bruce and Jonathan are both pretty competent deceivers in the New 52; Bruce always, Jonathan depending on how the writer is feeling (though you could argue that Bruce just has a stronger grip on reality, while Jonathan’s skill at obfuscation varies with how lucid he is).

...I was going to use Detective Comics #23.3 as an example of Jonathan being a good liar, but actually upon re-reading I’m realizing that only 1/4 rogues buy his attempt at manipulation. So maybe he’s considerably worse at hiding his intentions than he thinks he is. Regardless, he doesn’t ever attempt to disguise his obsession with Batman.

Whether or not he’d express romantic feelings or try to hide them is debatable. There’s no Masters of Fear equivalent in the New 52 establishing that he was ever mocked or punished for expressing romantic feelings for someone, though there is a flashback panel in his origin emphasizing that he was always lonely in this regard (and coincidentally doesn’t specify that his interest is in women, which is fun).

In Green Lanterns #17 he has some internal monologue about how fear is his romance and he needs Batman to feel it, but it is an INTERNAL monologue, so it’s not clear if this is something he would express to Bruce or keep to himself. Or if he’s even fully processed it himself, given how incredibly out of it he is in this comic. Most of his spoken lines are just kind of screaming incoherently. Bruce gets pretty snippy with a Green Lantern at the end of the issue for suggesting that Jonathan should be punished for his crimes as if he were in control of his actions. 

Bruce is a similarly complicated answer, since for all his deceptions and shadowy mystery he pretty much wears his heart on his sleeve when it comes to romance. It’s just that his heart doesn’t express or process emotions the same way as anyone around him, which can create conflict. His (seriously underrated) love interest during Scarecrow’s origin arc, Natalya, spent most of her time dating him thinking that he didn’t care about her for this reason. He was trying to express that he loved her, but he mostly did so through complimenting her skills, which she never took as serious declarations of affection because he wasn’t being straightforward and she was insecure.

Jonathan does not himself seem like someone who would be especially secure in the idea of another person having romantic feelings towards him, so I assume that while Bruce might THINK he’s being open with any romantic feelings he develops, he would in reality just be really confusing.

13. How do they react to being away from each other?

I actually think that in general, Jonathan is one of the few people who would have no issue dealing with Bruce’s tendency to unexpectedly go AWOL for long periods of time, given that he himself has a tendency to fixate on his work to the exclusion of everything else.

But New 52 Jonathan specifically probably has pretty serious abandonment issues due to his father putting him in “the pit” and dying before he could take him out, meaning that Jonathan was waiting for his dad to come back for him for God knows how long, until Jonathan Sr.’s employers finally sent the police to investigate. 

So while in general I think he wouldn’t be very clingy, any impression that Bruce had died or otherwise wasn’t coming back for him would probably be incredibly triggering. If Bruce could assuage this reaction by occasionally sending updates that at least indicated he was still alive, then I doubt Jonathan would have any problems with his absence.

(@heroes-etc​: bruce sending like a checkmark emoji once a day. jonathan hears his phone ping, looks at the screen, and goes hm. good. and doesnt respond.)

Bruce meanwhile has no problem ditching literally any love interest at any time if something crime-related comes up, unless he’s considering quitting the cowl for them (as Joker probably accurately fears will happen with Catwoman in Prelude to the Wedding). But I don’t think he’d stop being Batman for Scarecrow, nor would Jonathan ever want him to — he’s interested in Batman, not necessarily Bruce Wayne.

But even though Bruce wouldn’t have an emotional problem with distance, I think he would get similarly paranoid if they went too long without contact, though for different reasons than Jonathan. Unlike some other villains (*cough* Joker and Riddler), Scarecrow has machinations that don’t require getting Batman’s attention, so if he decided to continue with his less legal experiments, he would not feel compelled to get Bruce involved. While the “World’s Greatest Detective” would probably not have an issue keeping an eye on Jonathan while he’s in Gotham, he’s considerably less capable of that in space. And Jonathan is definitely a rogue he would be obsessed with keeping an eye on, even if he reformed. 

Batman & Robin Eternal established that Dick’s first supervillain conflict AND first mission leaving the country was chasing Scarecrow across the world for an entire summer, which is kind of insane considering how early it was in Batman’s career. Like, he did not have an army of children to watch Gotham for him while he was gone. He had one child, and he took that child WITH him. He left Gotham undefended for months, JUST to catch Scarecrow. Sooo that in of itself implies he wouldn’t be great at keeping his distance.

15. Does their view of themselves differ from their partner’s view?

Well, Jonathan occasionally sees Bruce as a giant bat demon, so yes.

Outside of that very obvious differing view, Jonathan in general sees himself and the rest of the rogue gallery as more vital to Batman’s identity than Bruce considers them; the extent to which he’s right varies depending on your interpretation of Bruce’s character, but it’s definitely not something Bruce would ever consciously think or say. 

This is related to something that’s definitely a misconception of his, though, which is that the majority of Batman’s job revolves around supervillains like him. In Kings of Fear, when Jonathan blackmails Bruce into letting him come on patrol with him (which is a whole thing in of itself), he’s shocked at how boring most of Batman’s work is. Which probably goes along hand in hand with sometimes seeing Bruce as an almost mythologically inhuman figure. 

In his defense, it’s not like he has a lot of context for what the minutiae of Batman’s job is like. He’s either fighting Batman, hiding from Batman, or imprisoned by Batman in Arkham, a place where everyone else also spends all their time fighting or hiding from Batman. Which would really skew your perspective.

Interestingly, Bruce and Jonathan are both people who pride themselves on being extremely self-aware. Both of them probably inaccurately. You can rant about how you have a perfect understanding of your troubled mental state all day long, but if you’re still dressing up like a monster at night to indulge the power fantasies you created as a traumatized child by scaring the hell out of people, there’s probably a level of self-realization you haven’t gotten to yet.

Bruce however is at least self-aware enough to regularly be able to analyze his way out of fear toxin induced hallucinations, which Jonathan is unable to do — when he’s not depicted as having become immune to his fear toxin due to overexposure (as he is in Green Lanterns #17), he can be defeated with the same formulas that Batman regularly manages to resist (like his honestly embarrassing breakdown in Nightwing #50). 

Which ties into the difference between how he sees himself and how Bruce sees him: Jonathan obviously visualizes himself as a “master” of fear. He actually has the same internal monologue about fear and trauma that Bruce does in Batman: The Dark Knight #13: “Make it your own... run to what you fear... stare it in the eye... until it whimpers and backs down.” But Bruce doesn’t see Scarecrow as conquering his fear; he sees him as addicted to it, to the point of his own detriment.

Which is interesting, because Jonathan clearly sees his Scarecrow persona as a way to regain control after being victimized by his father’s fear experiments throughout his childhood. I guess Bruce’s perspective would be that Jonathan’s father instead got him addicted to fear as a child, so his attempts at agency as Scarecrow are just a) reliving his trauma over and over and b) compulsively inflicting his own trauma on others. There’s probably some truth to that, even if overall it’s probably an oversimplification (and coincidentally pretty much EXACTLY what Riddler argues Bruce is doing by “funding” Batman in Batman Annual #4, so there’s that).

20. Did either person change at all, to be with their partner?

The obvious answer here is yes, because Jonathan is a supervillain with no regard for human life while Bruce is a superhero who has dedicated his life to protecting people. So presumably one or both of them would have to make serious compromises to be together. HOWEVER. Scarecrow’s primary motivation is to research, understand and inflict fear, while Batman’s modus operandi is making his enemies afraid of him. So despite their contradiction in morals, they’re uniquely positioned to advance each other’s goals, were they to ever join forces.

Bruce never has a problem using fear toxin on Scarecrow, presumably partially out of an “eye for an eye” sense of poetic justice, but also because Batman is practical and it’s a nonlethal weapon that’s always available to him while fighting Scarecrow. If he could have fear toxin customized for his own use, it’s hard to imagine him being unwilling to use it. In Gothtopia he actually advocates for using what’s leftover from Crane’s new formula on all the inmates at Arkham, which seems about as insanely morally ambiguous as it gets. Arguably, putting fear toxin in his smoke bombs would be considerably less wrong than drugging mental patients out of their mind when they’re supposed to be receiving therapy (this is also the issue where he illegally releases Poison Ivy because she did him a favor, which is both morally questionable and relevant to the current topic).

Jonathan obviously already thinks Batman is the most interesting possible case study in fear; it’s why he keeps coming back to Bruce and Gotham despite being one of the more independent villains in Batman’s rogue gallery in the New 52. So though he would have to give up actively kidnapping people (which would be a huge sacrifice, I’m sure), teaming up with Bruce would give him unrestricted access to his favorite test subject. Unfortunately, it seems very possible that he would fall back to old tricks if he ever felt that he’d gotten everything he could out of a partnership with Bruce. Fortunately, that would probably take a VERY long time.

[bb-tings]

unspoken magic - drew starkey

magic - gabrielle aplin 

(10/10 reccomend ALL HER MUSIC)

so i found this song on spotify while i was looking for a song to write a cute fluffy drew fic to and it gave me such drew vibes bc homeboy doesn’t know how to use any form of social media lol...also the rant is literally me. like my thoughts and actions and beliefs. some of yall 13 year olds really don’t know the meaning of BOUNDARIES.

...anyways enjoy,

-BRI

if you want to join or get taken off the taglist just let me know in my messages or in the comments 😊

taglist: @ampanonyg @ims0golden @jjsmentalpolaroids @stargazingstarkey @letsgofullkook @jjmbanks @maybanksbaby @1-800-jjslut  @simpforstarkey @jellyfishbeansontoast

Remember when we snuck out of your birthday, didn't even say goodbye, 'Cause even there in a room full of faces, all I saw was you and I

     Everyone was having a blast dancing around, drinking, laughing. It was Drew’s birthday after all. The cast had decided to rent out a club and invite family and friends, including everyone who worked on set, the workers have become more like family than colleagues. There was so much chaos going on and while Y/n was so proud of the cast and herself for pulling the event off for her boyfriend, she couldn’t help but feel a little antisocial. She was a social butterfly, but everyone knew that after days of being the life of the party and extroverted, she needed time alone and started to shut down, wanting to be alone. Y/n was so excited for the party but when it came time for her to get dressed up and drunk with her friends, she found herself sitting alone on a couch booth while sipping wine, not really seeing the fun in getting wasted and stupid drunk. 

     Y/n watched as Drew and Rudy drunkenly danced back to back, screaming out the words to OMG by Usher, she laughed as he made eye contact with the young girl and pointed to her, wiggling his finger for her to join him. She held her glass up and tried giving him a believable smile, but the older boy knew better, so he made his way over to her.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Drew slid his way next to his girlfriend and used the towel on the table to wipe the sweat off of his face. “Did somebody upset you?”

“Nothing bubba, I’m fine.”

      Y/n looked up from her short-lived attempt at avoiding Drew’s eyes to him already looking at her. She watched as his hand moved toward her hair as he pushed a fallen piece behind her ear. He looked around her face and finally met her eyes, not believing her. “I’m fine, Drew. I promise.”

     Drew sat back away from her as he let out a loud sigh. “Why do you do that? Why do you lie to my face and tell me that you’re ok like I’m going to buy it? Why can’t you just tell me the truth?”

     “Drew, I really don’t wanna do this right now,” the young girl pleaded. “It’s your birthday, can’t we just have a good time and not worry about me right now?” To that Drew looked at his other half like she had grown another half. 

     “Ok, first of all, this,” He moved his finger quickly in the small space between them. “This Is not a fight. This is me being upset because my girlfriend won’t let me worry about her. I guess she doesn’t know how relationships work.” Drew teased the girl with a small smile on his face. “And second, we both know that I can’t have a good time if you’re sitting over here all sad and mopey.”

It's all the words you never say, the way I catch you watchin' me, I know that you love me, i know you can feel the magic, we don't need to talk about

     After a little back and forth, the young boy had finally gotten the girl to spill the truth about needing some alone time and was now trying to sneak them out of his own birthday party. As the pair rode home, Y/n couldn’t help but look at Drew as he stared ahead. She watched as his changing blue eyes flickered between the path in front of him and the many cars behind him, also driving in the early hours of the morning. 

     Though there were many signs, lights, and flashes that caught her mind’s attention, basically begging her eyes to look, she couldn’t help but only see Drew. This was her favorite kind of Drew. When he is totally unbothered. He was doing something so simple, something that he had been doing since he turned 15, now 27 it only seems right that he should be used to it. However, Y/n couldn’t help to notice how he put all his effort into it, eyes never once leaving the road, she liked to believe that it was his way of self consciously protecting her. And even though she thought she was going unnoticed, the young girl wasn’t the only one admiring from not so far. Drew was watching her too but through his peripheral. He loved that she was enchanted by everything he did. He liked knowing that he wasn’t the only one completely and hopelessly in love. 

No, we don't feel the need for colorful displays, 'cause it's not the kind of game we play, and why should we show the world how we feel, when it's not about them anyway

     Everyone was over at Madelyn’s apartment chilling and hanging out with one another. The blonde was stationed on the floor in between the couch and the coffee table, with a live Instagram leaning on a few books. Y/n was sitting directly behind the girl, turned to the side with her legs pulled up to her chest. She had let Maddie use her phone, the 22-year-old being too lazy to walk to her room and get hers, so now she was just watching as Madelyn socialized with the fans. 

“Ow, shit.” 

     Y/n turned her head to see Drew sitting on the edge of the couch next to her holding his foot with a worried stare. The younger girl let out a small snort. “Did you hit your toe bub?” 

     Drew let out a whiny noise and Maddie proceeded to also let out a laugh, then reusing one of her famous lines, “Never heard anyone whine like that before.” Y/n gently pushed the girl’s shoulder, teasingly telling her to leave the big baby alone. She then returned her vision to the raging comment section. Her once big smile quickly fading to a frown.

I think its a PR stunt bc they don’t even act like a couple

Drew deserves someone who actually loves him...LIKE ME!

gUys she called him bUb! THATS SO CUTE (emoji)

Nah thats def apr stunt, more obvious than shawn and camila

I don’t eleven think i’ve seen them hold hands

     Madelyn and Y/n simultaneously rolled their eyes, the blonde looking up at her best friend gave her a look that spoke “you gonna tell em or me.”

     Y/n slid down from the couch and joined her friend on the floor, getting right in front of the camera. She looked up at her loving boyfriend who was on his phone also looking at the comments on the live. He glanced down towards Y/n and gave her a small smile, telling her to go for it. It wasn’t the first time they had seen comments like this and he knew it wouldn’t be the last but he also knew that she had been dying to rant about it. 

     “Alright, I’m gonna go ahead and say this one thing, and then I’m probably going to take some time off this app.” The young actress slowly took a deep breath and then began her rant. “ Alright, first of all, my relationship with ANYONE, is between me and that person. Just because I have friends, boyfriends or family, does not mean that I have to post them on this account. I understand that it’s hard to believe that 2 people can be happy and healthy unless they showcase it to the rest of the world, but it is in fact very possible. So for everyone who is questioning, my relationship,” the girl then grabbed Drew’s hand, pulling him down to her side of the couch until he was laying on his side behind her head. “This is Drew. My boyfriend. It’s not a publicity stunt, it’s not to get the show more popular, it’s real. Outer Banks is already the number one show on Netflix, so I don’t really think there would be a point to put 2 people in a fake relationship. And another thing, I don’t even have a fucking publicist, so I don’t really know where that came from.” 

     The young girl turned her head to meet Drew’s blue eyes, he looked at her with such satisfaction and amazement. He was proud of his younger girlfriend. For years Drew thought that he would never find someone who was anti-social media like him. He thought that he was just going to have to bare his relationships getting exploited all over the world. Drew was happy that he never had to worry about that with Y/n. 

     “I completely understand why it’s confusing and how you can question our relationship. But that doesn’t mean you can drag our relationship, and me particularly, down. You have no right to say the things you do about me, just because you think that the small, tiny, look into our lives means that I don’t love and care about Drew. Like, no offense, but that’s fucking insane. I’m tired of getting private messages about my weight, my clothes, my hair, my AGE. Don’t even get me started on the age difference. Half of the fan accounts on this app are run by 13-year-olds saying very inappropriate things about a 27-year-old grown-ass man. Like yall understand that’s illegal right. Like, get it through your head that those are fantasies and no matter HOW MANY TIMES you drag ME down, they will NEVER come true. My age isn’t anyone’s business, I’m over 18 so get over it.” Y/n then let out a loud sigh. “I need a damn drink.” 

     To this Drew laughed and kissed her on the cheek, while the other cast members started to whoop and holler while applauding the young girl’s words. They too were proud other, they knew of the struggles that she went through and they knew that most of the time she kept those feelings balled up. Madelyn then grabbed the phone and said her goodbyes to the live, then ending it. 

     The blonde then wrapped her arms around her best friend. “I’m so proud of you, babe. That was so badass.”  Madison saw the interaction from across the room and ran over to join them, adding herself to the hug. 

     “It was great, sissy. You really told them who’s boss.” That last comment made Y/n laugh out loud. She was so happy to have a supporting friend and cast group that made her feel loved. She couldn’t have asked for better friends. 

     “It was pretty hot too,” Drew smirked and pulled the young girl away from the group hug and grabbed her face, and gave her a long passionate kiss, something he rarely did in front of others. “I’m proud of you bubba.”

She couldn’t have asked for better friends. 

Or a better boyfriend. 

Don't need to see it to believe it, no need to wake me up, 'cause I'm not dreamin'

     The couple was laying in their bed just enjoying each other’s presence. Limbs all spread around but managing to stay intertwined. Sunlight was seeping into the white-painted room, brightening everything up, including the pair’s mood. Drew was leaning against the headboard very lazily, running his hands through Y/n’s hair,  who was sitting in his lap, thighs down beside his knees, with her head on his chest. Drew had woken up early and tried to get the younger girl out of bed, but she refused to do so. So he decided that he would just deal with it and let her drift back off to sleep, but with a twist.

     It humored the young actor that people thought they weren’t a cuddly and touchy couple. They were absolutely a touchy couple, they just didn’t enjoy being touchy in front of others, some people not being into that and they didn’t want to make anyone feel awkward. It was more a Drew thing. He was the one who suggested they not have a lot of PDA, and while Y/n was all for PDA, she would do anything for Drew to make him happy. At the beginning of their relationship, Y/n was insecure about Drew’s real feelings because he didn’t show much love through touch, but she eventually mentioned it to him. Ever since then he always made it a point to show more affection the second they were alone. Hints their situation now. 

     Drew watched as Y/n started to stir in her sleep. She started to whine and Drew felt her chest start to move a little faster. She was having another nightmare. 

     “Shhh, shhh. You’re ok, it’s ok,” the young man started to rub her back and hold her a little tighter. He wanted the nightmare to stop but he didn’t want to ruin her sleep. “It’s just a dream. You’re ok, bubba.” Drew closed his eyes and gave a small smile when he felt her calm down, turn her head the other direction and hold onto him a little tighter. Despite what the young girl believed, Drew loved the affection that she gave him. Being the oldest of 3 kids, the boy felt like he had to grow up fast and while he knew his parents loved them all equally, he got less of the affection. He had to grow up and become a little man, help his mom prepare dinner, he and logan had to help take care of Brooke and Mackayla. He just thought that he wasn’t a fan to touch, but when it came to Y/n’s touch he couldn’t get enough of it.  

     Drew closed his eyes and relaxed his body, trying to drift off to sleep himself.  He knew he wasn’t dreaming yet, but he never wanted to leave this dream state with her. Getting to love someone like her, was something Drew never even dreamed of but now he was thankful for that. Because no dream could have lived up to the life that he gets to live with the girl that he loves.

[alixanonymous]

How A Demon Commissions An Angel ~ A Daminette FanFic ~ Chapter 6: A Need For Clarification

From the phone of Damian Wayne: 

Chat Name: Unknown Number

Unknown Number: Hi, Damian? This is Marinette… 

Me: You’re late.

Unknown Number: I know, I’m so sorry! There was a bit of an emergency… 

Me: Oh?

Unknown Number: Yeah, sorry! I know you said you’d only be free for about another hour right? Can we work fast maybe?

Me: I suppose it’s better late than never, but in the future, know that I don’t tolerate tardiness.

Unknown Number: Look, things in Paris are kind of crazy right now. I can’t promise I won’t have to change plans unexpectedly but since we only have an hour to get things done, could we leave that talk for another time? I’ll try to let you know beforehand if something comes up. Okay?

Me: Fine, one second. I need to change your contact name.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay, let me do yours too!

Me: Do I want to know what you put me in as?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I bet you could guess :)

Me: … 

Me: It’s not Arthur’s little sister, right?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, it wasn’t! :P

Me: No. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yes.

Me: Change it back!

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You don’t even know what it was originally!

Me: Anything is better than that. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Fine… 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: But that means you can’t complain about what it is since you’re the one who told me to change it back.

Me: Fine, I don’t even want to know.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: But I do! What do you have me under?

Me: …  

Me: Your initials.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Isn’t that a little too on the nose?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: (Not to mention totally uncreative)

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: But also, what if your brothers see?

Me: Well, not those initials… 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: ???

Me: Weren’t you the one who talked about how we only had an hour to do this?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Right! Sorry! Are you ready for some fast questions?

Me: Yes.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay!

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I’m going to start with Grayson’s sweater.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: What in your opinion constitutes a “tacky Christmas sweater”?

Me: Aren’t you the fashion designer? Shouldn’t you know this?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, I can’t say “tacky” is a style I’ve had much experience in sooo… 

Me: Right… 

Me: Well I guess I’d imagine it’d have to have a lot of bright colors.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: But you said Grayson likes navy blue, right?

Me: Right.

Me: Well before he liked navy blue, he used to wear a lot of neon red, yellow, and green.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: … 

Me: You know, as a child.

Me: Plus they’re sort of Christmas colors in a way, right?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I see… 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So when you said bright, you meant traffic-stoppingly bright?

Me: I suppose.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I see…

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: While I can’t say I would have ever thought to put those colors together before, if he wore them as a child I guess they would have kind of a sentimental value, like a nostalgic factor.

Me: In a way, it’s like an inside joke too, I suppose.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: How so? Me: Well, you see…

Me: After I moved in with my father, I needed clothes so I wore some of his. 

Me: Well, they were clothes in his image.

Me: Of course, they weren’t hand-me-downs.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Huh. Whenever I pictured you, I can’t say it was in traffic light colors

Me: You picture me?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Hahaha, no! Silly, it was only a figure of speech.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Right! Well, we only have an hour so we better get back on track! I think the colors are a very good personal detail!

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So beside those, what else makes it a tacky xmas sweater?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Do you want a holiday design? Like Santa or a reindeer?

Me: Perhaps?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Or are there any other images you’d think he’d appreciate more?

Me: Well… 

Me: Maybe a bird?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: A bird? Like a penguin?

Me: No! Definitely not!

Me: A robin

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: A robin? Why?

Me: As a child he also really liked the superhero Robin. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Oh! Batman’s sidekick, right?

Me: He’s Batman’s partner!

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Right. Is that also where the traffic light colors come from? Me: I suppose you could say that, yes

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, doesn’t he have a logo or something? Would that be what you want on the sweater?

Me: No, he’s an adult now, even if he doesn’t act like it. 

Me: I think if the design’s the actual bird it would seem more subtle.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: And thoughtful too! Less generic.

Me: I suppose so.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Cool, I’m starting to picture it. So do you actually want any Christmas aspects? Like do you want me to put a santa hat on the robin or maybe some wording on it like Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays?

Me: No, no santa hat and not “Merry Christmas” either.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay. Any text?

Me: Could you put “The First” on it?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I could… Why?

Me: Well, he is the oldest. So he was the first.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Right, no that makes sense.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: But I wonder… 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Hey Damian, is your brother as… formal as you?

Me: No.

Me: Definitely not. He has no manners.

Me: Why?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, a lot of young people use the term OG now. Maybe he would like that more.

Me: … 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: It means like the original. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You know, I think it actually stands for original gangster… 

Me: I see. 

Me: You know what, that’s actually very fitting.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Really?

Me: Yes. It seems like I should be grateful for not only your fashion expertise but also your knowledge of popular culture.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Thank you?

Me: Very well, is that all for Grayson?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Uh, just a few more things. So no Christmas details then?

Me: Nothing more than similarities in the colors and style. 

Me: What I’m picturing, at first glance, one might think it looks like a tacky Christmas sweater but if they were to look closely, there wouldn’t be actual references to the holiday.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Got it!

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So no hoods or pockets for this one?

Me: No. I think they’d be unnecessary.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay. Now, the main detail left is the thickness. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I’m going to have to knit this by hand so would you prefer I use a thin or thicker, fluffier yarn?

Me: I guess it would depend.

Me: Would a thicker material be scratchy?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: No, Damian. Nothing I make is scratchy.

Me: I see.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: The only differences would be a thicker yarn would make for a thicker and fluffier sweater and it would also be a bit warmer too.

Me: Oh well Gotham is pretty cold most of the time.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Gotham?

Me: It’s where my family lives. Well, Grayson also spends a lot of time in Blüdhaven.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Oh, I see why you guys like Robin now! He and Batman are based in Gotham right?

Me: Yes.

Me: Paris doesn’t have any superheroes right?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Oh no, we do.

Me: I’m sorry, excuse me? I’ve never heard of any!

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Ladybug and Cat Noir are the main ones.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: And our mayor tries his best to keep it out of international news to keep tourism going.

Me: So you’re telling me that those outlandish stories on the Ladyblog are true?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Most of them, yes.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Wait, you read the Ladyblog?

Me: I came across it while I was doing research on you.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I see… 

Me: Is this a joke? If there’s supervillains in Paris, why hasn’t the Justice League gotten involved?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I don’t know? 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I’m not really the person to be asking about this stuff.

Me: Right, sorry. It’s just hard to believe.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yeah, I get it.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: That’s actually why I was late today. There was an akuma attack earlier.

Me: What?!

Me: Are you okay?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Oh I’m fine, Ladybug’s powers reverse all the damage. 

Me: … 

Me: I think this is going to take some time to sink in.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Right, well should we get back to the commission?

Me: Yes. Let’s.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay, so you’d prefer the thicker material then? 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: It will cost more by the way.

Me: Yes, and money is never an issue.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay, then I think I have enough to get started on the sketch! I know we have two more brothers to go through but it’s getting late here and I still have some things to get done tonight… 

Me: Of course.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Would you be free to talk some more same time tomorrow? 

Me: I believe so.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I’ll try my best to not be late this time. :)

Me: I understand now that it may be out of your control.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Unfortunately, but hey what can you do?

Me: Right.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: If you have any time before we talk again, I’ve been thinking it might help if there’s any reference pictures you could show me. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You know if you see anything online or in a store or even if there’s any pieces your brothers’ already own that you’d want me to take some inspiration from, could you maybe send me some pictures so I can have a better idea of what you’re looking for?

Me: I see. I’ll do my best.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: That’s all I can ask! Goodnight, Damian! Talk to you tomorrow!

Me: Goodnight, Marinette.

Google Search History 

What does P.S. stand for?

MDC

MDC Fashion Designer

The Ladyblog

Albert Einstein Human Stupidity Quote

What does fyi mean?

Aesthetic

What’s an aesthetic?

Aesthetic Urban Dictionary

How To Delete Search History 

OG Urban Dictionary

Parisian Superheroes

Ladybug and Cat Noir

Ladyblog

What’s an akuma?

How To Get Paris News Updates

Chat Name: Father

Me: Father, were you aware that there are superheroes in Paris? Why hasn’t the Justice League done anything?!

Father: I’m sure the Justice League is monitoring the situation. There’s no cause for concern, son.

Me: Right. Of course, Father.

From the phone of Jason Todd:

Chat Name: The Boys (Minus The Demon)

replacement: ummm…  sooo… 

replacement: just walked into my room and guess what I see?

big bird: A mess?

replacement: no!  the demon’s standing in front of my closet taking pictures of my clothes!

big bird: ? 

Me: uh wat

big bird: How the hell was I supposed to guess that?

replacement: so then I ask him what he’s doing… 

Me: anddddd

replacement: and he doesn’t even look at me but just says research… 

replacement: ???

big bird: (shrugging emoji)

big bird: Maybe this is a good thing? I mean what if he is doing research for Christmas and actually paying attention to what we like?

replacement: okay???

Me: i dont know he has been acting weirder lately

Me: like when i came home he was glaring at his phone and kept checking it for like five min without noticing i was there

big bird: Oh!

big bird: I passed him in the hall earlier and get this: he was smiling at his phone as he typed!

Me: what1!!

replacement: why didn’t you warn us?!

big bird: Because guys? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t like a threatening smile. I think it was an actual like happy smile.

Me: yeah right! demon spawn doesnt know how to do that

replacement: do you know who he was texting?

Me: ?

big bird: No! And I didn’t want to ask…

replacement: well we need to figure it out.

Me: agreed

big bird: Unfortunately, because she helped him with the encryption, Babs can’t hack into his phone.

Me: well then well ned to steal it 

Me: he has patrol with you guys tonight right

replacement: yes… 

Me: ill get it from babs after you leave

replacement: good plan but we don’t know his password… 

big bird: Oh, it’s I’m Batman!

Me: duh its im batman

replacement: ???

replacement: How do you know that?!

Me: like your password hasnt been it at one point

replacement: … 

big bird: We’ve all been there!

Me: its practically a right of passage

replacement: *rite

Me: shut it replacement

Chat Name: carrot top

carrot top: do I even want to know why you stole the demon brat’s phone?

Me: uhhh no?

carrot top: great

carrot top: just make sure you return it before he gets back

carrot top: I have no wish to get stabbed with a katana tonight

Me: great thx babs!

carrot top: oh and by the way, its programmed to delete all unsaved data after five hours

Me: what!!! 

Me: is there anyway you could retrieve his texts?

carrot top: of course I could!

carrot top: but Im not gonna

Me: why not???

carrot top: one word:

carrot top: katana

Me: fineee

From the phone of Damian Wayne:

Me: who is this?

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Damian, it’s five in the morning.

Me: who are you and why are you texting this number?

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Uh, it’s Marinette. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: remember me?

Me: hello, marinette.

Me: why are you in damians phone as t.g.y.t.t.b.?

T.G.Y.T.T.B: uh, I have no idea. it’s too early for this.

Me: so, tell me… 

Me: what business do you have texting my brother?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: ???

T.G.Y.T.T.B: oh, you’re Damian’s brother then?

Me: Yes, i’m Jason.

T.G.Y.T.T.B: You mean Grayson?

Me: i think i know my own name

Me: but to answer your question grayson is our other brother

Me: demon spawn likes to call by our last names

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Oh I thought it was just more… 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: nevermind

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Wait, Demon spawn?

Me: damian

T.G.Y.T.T.B: thats… 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: ironic.

T.G.Y.T.T.B: and kinda mean

Me: trust me he loves it

T.G.Y.T.T.B: So which one are you, Todd or Drake?

Me: todd

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Wait, why do you guys have different last names?

Me: uh cause all of us were adopted except for damian

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Oh

Me: but back to my question

Me: why are you texting my brother?

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Uh well I’m not… 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: I wasn’t… 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: I was trying to sleep… 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: And then I was texting you sooo

Me: Right but you were texting him earlier right?

T.G.Y.T.T.B: What does it matter to you?

Me: What business do you have texting my brother?

T.G.Y.T.T.B: None of yours

Me: … 

Me: Im his brother!

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Exactly, his brother. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Not his parent

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Not his warden

T.G.Y.T.T.B: So if you really want to know why I’m texting Damian, maybe you should ask him instead of stealing his phone and bothering innocent girls at five in the morning.

Me: well to be fair its only 11 over here 

Me: how was I supposed to know? 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: By talking to your brother instead of stealing his phone?

Me: how did you even know I stole it?

T.G.Y.T.T.B: … 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: really?

Me: hey now

Me: im only doing this because im concerned

Me: the kids been acting weird lately

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Gee, I wonder why.

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Do you think it maybe has something to do with the fact that you’re all threatening to send him away?

Me: he told you about that?!

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Yes. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: So if that’s all, how about the next time you feel like sticking your head where it doesn’t belong, try talking to your brother first.

Me: wait

Me: can’t you give me anything to work with here?

Me: why did he tell you that he might be sent away? he barely mentions it

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Why does he even have to tell me in the first place? What kind of brother lets his sibling be shipped away?

Me: look

Me: you only know what damians told you

Me: there’s another side to the story.

T.G.Y.T.T.B: I’m sure there is.

T.G.Y.T.T.B: But Damian is my friend not you, so I don’t particularly care to hear what you have to say.

T.G.Y.T.T.B: To me, you’re just the person who wants to send my friend away even though you say he’s your brother.

Me: So you’re demon spawn’s friend?

T.G.Y.T.T.B: No, I’m Damian’s friend.

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Good night, Jason.

Me: wait

Me: i don’t really want him to be sent away or anything

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Have you done anything to help him stay?

Me: i’m trying to right now. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: How is any of this helping him?

Me: my brothers and I are trying to figure out what’s he getting us for xmas so we can make sure its good enough to satisfy dad

T.G.Y.T.T.B: How about instead of that you have some faith in him and try to convince your father to stop threatening to send him away?

Me: our old man isnt really the type to change his mind

Me: again i dont want him to leave or anything but he does need to get better

Me: i mean hell he broke a kids hand! that stuffs gotta stop

T.G.Y.T.T.B: … 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: WHAT?!

Me: i see he didn’t tell you that

Me: look hes my brother 

Me: i dont want him gone but things cant keep going on like this

Me: i know your his friend but he has to change and our dad is just trying to do what he thinks is best for him

T.G.Y.T.T.B: That’s enough! 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: I told you I didn’t want to hear from you.

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Damian’s my friend. He gets to decide what he tells me and when and it was very wrong of you to breach his trust like this. T.G.Y.T.T.B: Whatever Damian has done, it doesn’t mean you have the right to call him a demon and steal his phone. I want you to return it now.

Me: … 

Me: your right 

Me: im sorry. 

Me: i guess we’re all just trying to do what’s best for him

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Maybe you should stop assuming you know what that is.

Me: i cant promise anything

Me: but im glad damian has you as friend

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Well… 

T.G.Y.T.T.B: I’m glad that he has a brother who wants him to stay.

Me: he has three

T.G.Y.T.T.B: That’s even better.

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Surely the three of you would be enough to change your father’s mind?

Me: its not as simply as that

Me: but i can promise you our dad wants whats best for damian too

T.G.Y.T.T.B: I’ll hold you to that promise.

Me: Im sure you will, spitfire.

T.G.Y.T.T.B: ?

Me: thats your nickname

T.G.Y.T.T.B: I see

T.G.Y.T.T.B: :)

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Maybe one day I’ll tell the very first nickname I gave your brother.

Me: anyway that day could be today?

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Considering it’s now only eight o clock and you woke me up at five in the morning, no. I’m afraid not.

Me: wait

Me: it hasn’t already been three hours has it?

T.G.Y.T.T.B: It wouldn’t have been if you responded faster… 

Me: uh oh

Me: crap crap crap

T.G.Y.T.T.B: What’s wrong?

Me: demon gonna kill me

Me: night sunshine

T.G.Y.T.T.B: Bye?

From the phone of Alfred Pennyworth:

Chat Name: Master Bruce

Master Bruce: Alfred, please hide as many of Damian’s weapons as you can.

Me: On it, Master Bruce. May I ask what happened?

Master Bruce: Jason stole Damian’s phone and used it to text one of Damian’s friends.

Me: Oh, I see.

Master Bruce: Hey, has Damian mentioned anything to you about a girl?

Me: A girl? No, not that I can recall, Master Bruce. 

Me: Is that who Master Jason was texting?

Master Bruce: Yes, but I wasn’t aware Damian made any new friends.

Me: Neither was I. Perhaps he is progressing?

Master Bruce: I suppose we’ll see.

Me: Indeed.

I literally posted this just so I could say that chapter nine is on AO3!!! 

Master List

[borhap-au]

Joe Mazzello: the fluffy chronicles.

A blue day. 

It took a lot from you to actually get up from the bed and check your phone after you heard several messages coming in. For you, it was one of the blue days. You were strong, trying to deal with everything, but it kept piling up and finally it was too much. It just overwhelmed you. You spent the entire day in bed, under your blanket, without caring to change your clothes from yesterday or wash your hair. You just physically couldn’t make yourself do it. So when you saw a few messages from Joe, saying he’s going to come to your house in the evening, you immediately panicked. You didn’t want him to see the mess that was your room, or the mess you were that day. You didn’t expect anyone who didn’t struggle with depression to understand what you’ve been going through. You knew a lot of them would never do anyway. For some of them, you had everything they wished they had. But it was just the surface. Sure, among other things, you had a handsome, caring boyfriend, who was just a dream come true. But in all honestly, despite the fact you loved him very much, you couldn’t really gave all of yourself to that relationship. You were full of fear caused by the depression – you were scared that you weren’t good enough for him, that he was just wasting his time with you, that he was a source of jokes because he had such an “awful” (in your mind) girlfriend. You thought that either he’s going to realize how unfortunate he is to end up with you and leave, or he’s going to get stuck with you forever and be unhappy. Either of those broke your heart. So what you couldn’t admit to Joe, but what you had considered in the past, was deleting yourself from his life. You thought that’s the only way for him to let go of the burden and finally be happy. You never said that out loud, but Joe was suspecting it might’ve crossed your mind. So when you sent him an emoji of a blue heart (a code you had, for telling him you’re having one of the blue days, but you love him and don’t want him to be worried, that you just need some time alone) he wasn’t planning to leave you to your own devices. Especially since was scared you would choose a razor blade.

Joe understood your struggle, at least from a perspective of a person who wasn’t dealing with similar problems himself. He was the second person you were the most open and honest with, right after your therapist. He knew you, the real you, and he loved you for who you were, which was almost completely unbelievable and impossible to you. It took you a long time to open up to him, but when you finally did, you felt a bit better – especially after he didn’t leave you, he kept coming back, talking to you, trying to help you. He was good at finding “small” solutions – things you usually did for a few hours, but they had a lasting effect, with you going even as long as a week without having bad, overwhelming thoughts. He bought you an aquarium with several different species of fish, since you loved animals. Observing them made you feel peaceful. He also took you on a road trip, where you could cut yourself from everyday life and have some vitamins from the shining sun. He made you laugh by having various funny and sometimes weird ideas. He let you put make up on him to practice, you both used colorful foam to make your hair have crazy colors for a few days. You sometimes pranked people together. He overall could just make you laugh, which at times was almost impossible. You usually didn’t fake anything around him, and that was really important and refreshing for you. But as it is with depression, after the good days come the bad days, and today was unfortunately one of the latter. You sighed quietly when you saw his text back.  

“I’ll come anyway. I just missed my girl too much,” you put your phone away and almost cried as you began to clean up your room. It was just too much for you. You felt helpless and unable to do the simplest tasks, the emotional pain was taking over the control of your body. You sat on the floor, trying to come up with any excuse that would persuade Joe not to come. You didn’t feel that bad in ages. You knew you will have to fake your happiness not to concern him, but today it felt like too much to ask from you. You just didn’t want to pretend.

Before you came up with anything that could make Joe stay at home tonight, he was already at your door. He knocked on it, and you jumped surprised and scared. After a second of bringing yourself together, you told him to come in.

“Hey… Your mom let me in,” you nodded hearing that. You looked down. Didn’t want him to see the make-up you had on from the previous day, or that your eyeliner was all over your cheeks from crying. Your hair was a mess. You were wearing just a simple tracksuit. You had no energy to get up, so he sat next to you.

“Please, don’t. I stink,” you muttered quietly, moving away from him. Only then you saw that little teddy bear he was holding in hand.

“It doesn’t bother me. Here, I brought you a present,” he gave you the teddy bear and you took it, looking at it carefully. It had a little sweater on, with your and his initials in a heart. You had to admit, it was cute.

“Thank you, it’s lovely. But please, don’t come closer. It may not bother you, but it does bother me,” you muttered quietly again, softly cuddling the toy to your chest. He nodded his head.

“So we’ll start with a bath, how about that?” he smiled and you looked at him with a visible exhaustion in your eyes. He knew you wanted him to go, but he just couldn’t let you be all alone when you were in such a state. He wanted you to feel his presence, his support. You knew he wasn’t going anywhere, so you slowly nodded your head, without saying a word. He got up and went to the bathroom that was attached to your room. He started preparing the bath.

You looked at the teddy bear again. His fur was really soft, and he was all white. You were planning to call him Joey, as it was your favorite nickname for your boyfriend, and you wanted to always have a Joey to hug at night. Soon after that, Joe came back to you.

“May I?” he asked, and when you didn’t object, he picked you up. You left the toy behind, on the floor. Joe took you to the bathroom and make you stand on a rug, while he began to help you undress. There was nothing sexual about it, on the contrary, it was almost as if he was a parent helping his child out after a long, exhausting day. He looked after you with care and protection. It gave you a sense of security.

After your clothes were already in the laundry basket, he helped you to get in the bath. He himself sat on a small stool next to the bathtub. The first thing he did was taking care of your yesterday’s make up, by washing it off. You didn’t like your bare face, but he actually loved it. He gently pet your cheek, but when you didn’t look at him, he took his hand away, not to do something you may not like. Then he took a sponge and began to wash your body with a shower gel. You were hardly feeling it. You felt like you were drifting away, like you were somewhere else, under the water, while your body stayed there with Joe. He felt you disconnecting.

“Hey, beautiful,” he kissed your temple. “Where are you now?” he asked, smiling slightly. You looked at him and tried to smile back.

“Right here, with you,” you put your hand on his and began to softly pet it.

“If you want to get anything off your chest, I’m here to listen,” he reassured you.

“Thank you, honey. But not today. Today I don’t have the strength to talk,” you explained to him, and you knew you’d understand without questioning it.

“Darling… I don’t want you to be mad at me for asking this question, but I have to make sure. Were you taking your pills?” he looked at you with concern, trying to find any way he could help you.

“Yes,” you nodded your head. “They just made my dose a little smaller… Apparently it’s a bit too early for that,” you answered him honestly.

“We will make sure they bring back the right dose. I’m glad you’ve been taking your pills, honey. I’m really proud of you,” he pet your head. “Always remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you,” you looked at him and gave him a little smile.

“Thank you, Joey. I don’t know where I would be without you,” you muttered and held his hand, because you needed to feel his presence. He got the message.

“Do you need a hug?” you nodded your head and he cuddled you, petting your back. You liked everything about hugging Joe. His warmth, the smell of his perfume, his closeness. He held you for as long as you needed, he wouldn’t dare to break out of a hug first, knowing how much you needed it. So after some time you broke out of it, because otherwise you would stay in his arms forever. Not that you minded that.

“I love you,” you whispered so he could barely hear it. But he knew you meant it.

“I love you too. So, so much. You’re like my own personal piece of sunshine. I want to be with you forever,” there was an actual honesty in his words. There was something about him that just made you want to believe him, even on the days you didn’t believe yourself. “Did you sleep well tonight?” he asked with care.

“I barely slept at all, I kept on waking up,” you sighed quietly. Bags under your eyes were a proof of that.

“Are you having nightmares?” he held your hand now, petting it with this thumb.

“All kinds, the worst kinds,” you answered.

“What about meals, did you eat?” you shook your head.

“Mom brought me something earlier, but I couldn’t take a smallest bite without feeling like puking,” you explained to him and he kissed your shoulder.

“So how about I’ll make you something? Remember when we made pizza together? It was nice, wasn’t it?” he smiled, trying to make you remember the better days, and make you feel better. It really was a nice day, the pizza day he mentioned. It was when your mom had a girls night out and he stayed with you. You cooked a pizza together, making a huge mess, but it was fun. And the pizza was delicious, despite the fact it looked absolutely awful.

“After the bath?” you asked, looking at him. He nodded with a big smile.

“Yes, after the bath. I’ll make you anything you want. And then we’ll watch your favorite Disney movie. Would you like that?” you nodded your head slowly. “So we will. Now come on, tilt your head back. We need to make your hair wet.”

When he was washing your hair, you calmed down a little bit. His touch, his fingers running through your hair, his gentle massage, all made you feel a bit better. Later he helped you get out of the bath and dried your body up with a towel.

When you came back to your bedroom, you began to brush your hair, while he was drying it with a hair dryer. The warm air filled up the room and made you feel better. After that, you put some actual clothes on instead of a pajama in case your mother was in the kitchen. Yes, you were an adult, but still, it would be quiet uncomfortable to expose the fact you were just naked around your boyfriend like that. Even though your mom actually liked Joe. She saw the good impact he had on you.

While in the kitchen, Joe started off on his own, trying to make some traditional Italian pasta from a recipe he found on the internet. But when you saw him struggle, you soon joined his effort, so now you struggled together. You chuckled as you were trying to make something out of the things that you had, instead of those that were actually in the recipe. Joe was cracking jokes all the time, and it actually helped you forget for a little while. You focused entirely on him.

When you finished, you went and had a dinner on the balcony, talking about stars, cosmos, and people passing by on the street. Joe wrapped a blanket around you to make sure you won’t get cold. He asked you about how you felt and kept on reminding you that you’re valid and important for him and if you ever needed him, he’s there. Then you came back to his room and watched the Disney movie he suggested earlier. Before the ending, you were already yawning.

After all of that, late at night, he suggested he should come back home, but at this point you didn’t want him to go, so you persuaded him to stay. You felt better falling asleep in his arms, and he held you tightly, petting your back. The Joey bear was lying next to you on the pillow.

The last words you heard from your Joe before falling asleep was always “I love you,” whether it was through a text, call or in person. Tonight was no different.

“Sleep well, honey. I love you,” was the words you heard from him while you already were half-asleep from all the day’s exhaustions. You had a feeling that this night will be better than the previous one. And you sure hoped that if you had a nightmare, Joe would appear in your dream to save you, just like he protected you in real life.

[vennilavee]

The Countdown

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: you and bucky have a small fight before a mission during the holidays and you’re both irked at each other.

Warnings: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 2791

A/N: inspired by s1e14 of the oc titled ‘the countdown’. i only watched the first season, but i always thought the new year’s kiss moment was beautiful. i listened to dice by finley quaye a lot while writing this (also found this song on the same episode of the oc)

_______________________________________________________________________

“You were supposed to be home for the holidays! And for the new year!” You say, irritation stewing in your belly. You cross your arms and shift your weight to your right side.

“I was home for Christmas! Doesn’t that count for something?” Bucky retorts.

“Neither of us even celebrate Christmas like that…”

“So? I was still here!”

“We were supposed to ring in the new decade together!”

“So what would you have me do? Tell the world to pause just because you want a New Year’s kiss?”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to start the new year and the new decade with my boyfriend! I guess I’m asking for too much from you, huh?”

“I guess you are!”

You roll your eyes so far to the back of your head that you are certain you can see the whites of your skull. You look away from him, so he can’t see the hurt in your chest. Why is he so nonchalant about it? Doesn’t it mean as much to him as it does to you?

Evidently not.

“Whatever. Have fun. Be safe I guess. Don’t get too injured. I won’t help you with anything more than bruised knuckles.”

I love you, you stupid idiot.

Bucky lets out a chuckle despite himself. He’s already dressed in his tactical suit, buckles and velcro done and all. You knew he had to go, but damn, would it kill him to look a little sad about leaving you for over a week and missing New Year's Eve and New Year's Day with you?

You can hear Sam calling for him out in the kitchen of your apartment.

“Well, I guess you’ve gotta go,” You shrug, “Have fun on your trip. You guys are going to Bali, right?”

“Don’t be like that,” Bucky murmurs, a faint cloud forming in his normally clear eyes.

“Enjoy your beers and your Mai-Tais, Samuel,” You call out, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“Leave me outta it, baby girl,” Sam replies.

You hand Bucky his black duffel, trying to thrust it at him and failing because of how heavy it was. He quirks his lips in amusement but falters when you send him a searing glare.

“I’ll see ya when I see ya,” Bucky says. You’re about ready to bite his head off. Why can’t he see it? Why can’t he feel it the way you do?

“Yeah. See ya when I see ya,” You echo, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

***

“‘See ya when I see ya?’ That was the saddest string of words in the English language I’ve ever heard,” Sam says, thumping Bucky on the back of his head. 

“Oh really? Thanks for your opinion,” Bucky snarks, “She knew I had to go!”

“So? She’s allowed to not be happy about it.”

Bucky silences him with a glare and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Y’all are both some idiots.”

***

Bucky hadn’t even kissed you goodbye or told you he was going to miss you. The thought that he wouldn’t miss you leaves you motionless and in tears.

Does he still love you? Does he even like you? How could he look at you like that, like you were annoying him? As if he didn’t love you more than life itself, as if he didn’t spend every night falling asleep to your soft, rhythmic breaths? As if his crevices didn’t match yours, as if his stormy blue didn’t seek your brown warmth?

Had he even looked at you like that? As if you were an annoyance to quell? 

He hadn’t kissed you. He hadn’t said goodbye to you.

You can’t help but wonder- is he thinking about you?

***

You haven’t sent Bucky a single text, emoji, meme or photo. It’s been four days since Bucky said ‘he’d see ya when he sees ya’, and the words (or lack thereof) rattle in his mind mercilessly.

They could replace Hydra’s trigger words, he thinks darkly.

But you hadn’t even kissed him goodbye or told him you would miss him. He can’t get your sad, brown eyes out of his mind or the way you had folded in on yourself with your arms twisted together like vines after you had handed him your duffle bag.

He’s half expecting you to dump his stuff out in front of your apartment, indicating that you’re through with him and the darkness and the missions and the waiting and just… all of it.

You deserve better, he tells Sam grimly as they are staking out a Hydra base in the middle of Mount Batur in Bali. Bucky can’t help but think that Hydra is incredibly stupid for building a new base in such a heavy tourist location. But maybe they needed a change in scenery.

Sam had sent Bucky a glare, as if to say ‘is this really the best time?’

Bucky sighs, “Why was that so dramatic? ‘I’ll see you when I see you? Seriously? God, I want to electrocute myself every time I remember that I said that.”

“Tell Zemo that. He’ll be more than happy to fulfill that wish of yours,” Sam snorts.

“I miss her,” Bucky whines, “I’m so stupid, Sam.”

“So tell her,” Sam says simply with a small smile, “Including that last part. Multiple times.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t even kiss her or say goodbye. I’m the worst. But I wouldn’t blame her. If she wanted to go, I mean. I feel like I’m too much and not enough at the same time,” Bucky confesses softly, anxiety filling his voice.

“Sounds like you both need to sit down and talk. But before that, just call her-”

Bucky’s already calling you, eyes automatically searching for your name and the star emoji next to it. International fees be damned.

“I didn’t mean right now!”

***

You’re absent-mindedly scrolling on your phone, the blue light from the screen keeping your mind stimulated despite the fatigue behind your eyes. It’s 3:12 AM, you’re sleeping on Bucky’s side of the bed and you miss him. You wonder what he’s doing- is he safe? Is Sam safe? Is he protected? Does he know that you love him?

You can’t believe you let him go without saying goodbye, without a kiss, without telling him you loved him. You just said ‘you’d see him when you see him’. Well, in your defense, he said it first.

Hovering over his name, you contemplate calling him. Nah. He’s probably busy.

But he always told you he’d never be too busy for you. And that was true- you had called him a few times in the middle of anxiety attacks, or during a bout of insomnia- just to name a few instances. Despite the fact that he had been in the crux of a mission, fighting people off, dodging bullets left and right… He had tucked his cell phone in the crook of his neck and ear to calm you down in his low, comforting voice. You had been able to hear the rhythmic beats of his footsteps, with the occasional yell as he told you about his day, told you to follow his breaths, and listed the things he liked and loved about you. His voice was your favorite melody, a melody that fills you up with warmth and familiarity. 

You sigh and stare at the ceiling before feeling the buzz of a phone call in the palm of your hand.

Bucky’s name with a yellow heart emoji, along with a photo of both of you pops up on your phone and you accept the call quickly, butterflies strumming in your belly.

“Hi,” You say breathlessly.

“Hi,” Bucky says, sounding equally as breathless. You can hear Sam yelling at him for being distracted, you can hear commotion, glass breaking and doors slamming. But it’s all background noise.

“Are you okay?” You ask, “It’s like… 8 AM over there. Early morning Hydra base break in?” 

“Yeah. I haven’t even had a coffee yet, can you believe it?”

“Those Hydra guys won’t know what hit ‘em,” You chuckle.

There’s a beat of silence between both of you. 

“Hey… I’m sorry I left things so weird before I left. I’ll see ya when I see ya? Who the fuck says that,” Bucky mutters and smiles when you laugh, “I miss you, I’m sorry I won’t be there to start the new year with you, sweetheart. I’m such an idiot. And I’m sorry I made you feel so small.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye to you,” You whisper, “I miss you, I always do.”

“I know, honey. I always do, too,” Bucky murmurs, closely evading a punch to the stomach and a kick to the shins, “Save a kiss for me, will ya?” 

Bucky groans when he gets punched in the nose and you wince at the cracking sound.

“Ouch, that didn’t sound so good,” You remark, “Come back to me in one piece, will ya?” 

“I will,” Bucky promises, “I gotta bring you out here someday. You’d love it.”

“I think I would, too. Bali looks beautiful. We’d both get nice and tan on those pretty beaches.”

“You’re already tan,” Bucky snorts, “You’d get that nice, bronzed glow.”

“And don’t you forget it,” You yawn widely.

“Get some rest, honey,” Bucky murmurs. You hear a muffled explosion in the background and somehow you still yawn.

“Be careful out there, sweetheart,” You reply mildly and then after a second, “I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

“Stop making fun of me,” Bucky whines and you laugh.

“Goodnight, honey.”

***

Specks of gold sit on the walls of your friend’s apartment, glittering at every turn of your head. It’s simple, paired with a large balloon of a bottle of Moet champagne, with smaller balloons coming out of the opening of the bottle. Strings of pale yellow fairy lights line the ceilings of the apartment, casting a slight glow on everyone in attendance.

Your friends have outdone themselves this year. They had asked for your recommendations on decorations, which had been your duty. So truly, you had outdone yourself this year. There is a station for champagne bottles chilling in buckets of ice and champagne flutes. And another station of liquor, mixers and solo cups to drink out of, as well as finger foods and snacks. It had been a potluck style party and everyone brought different entrees to have for dinner.

You had objected to the red solo cups- “We can afford to drink out of something nicer than red solo cups!”

And the subsequent retort- “And who’s going to wash all the glasses, huh?”

So the red solo cups stayed and you tried your best to not think about how out of place they looked with all of the gold and glitter. Everyone was wearing a mix of black, silver, gold or burgundy. And you? You were wearing a silk, olive green camisole, black pants and a black blazer with a glittery finish to it. Golden teardrops hang on your earlobes, swishing with every turn of your head and a necklace that Bucky had bought you sits along on the column of your throat. You had left your chunky heels at the door- of course you wanted to show off your New Year’s manicure and pedicure to your friends.

Several rounds of games go by- Cards Against Humanity, What do you Meme, and of course, beer pong and flip cup and then more food and drink. It’s about thirty minutes to midnight and you haven’t heard from Bucky in a few hours. You had sent him photos of yourself getting ready, selfies with your friends and of the decorations. All of the texts say that they’ve been delivered. But maybe he’s busy.

You’re starting to feel the sting a little bit when couples start to get cozy with one another, some cuddling subtly and some cuddling not so subtly. You check your phone once more, wondering where in the world Bucky could be. At least you have the solace that he’s safe- he had told you that everything was okay, they had gotten the information they needed. Him and Sam were safe.

Sticking your phone in the back pocket of your pants and fixing yourself a mixed drink, you rally everyone together for toasts to end the decade off. With Bucky burning brightly in the back of your mind.

***

You call Bucky at 11:56 PM. You’re not sure where he is, if he’ll even have cell reception, but you do it anyway. He doesn’t answer and you go straight to voicemail. It’s 11:58 PM by the time you decide to leave him a voicemail.

“Hi,” You begin, “Um… It’s probably already next year where you are, right? Happy new year, honey. To many more new years, new adventures and new… everything. I’ll text you in the morning, miss you, love you.”

With your heart feeling a little lighter, you join your friends in the living room to watch the countdown live. You don’t notice that one of your friends has disappeared and another one has a sly look on her face when she glances over to you.

***

Bucky is sweating bullets. He’s been running around the city for the last hour, from one edge to another. Sam and Bucky had finished up their mission late on the day before New Year’s Eve and Bucky thought it would be cute to surprise you before midnight on New Year’s day.

But of course, their quinjet had had a few technical difficulties, they had run into some trouble, and it had taken them behind schedule a few hours. 

So now, Bucky is currently sprinting to Williamsburg from the subway station because the subway car going to Brooklyn is currently out of service for the next forty-five minutes.

Just his luck. This is the most stressed Bucky has probably ever been.

***

It’s 11:56 PM when Bucky feels his phone vibrating. He quickly checks who it is, silencing it when he sees that it’s you calling. Bucky is currently running up twelve flights of stairs to get to your friend’s apartment building. The elevator was taking far too long, and Bucky was far too impatient to wait.

To the twelfth floor he goes.

Bucky hears his phone buzzing again, but just for a second. It’s a voicemail and he’s certain it’s from you. His heart sputters for a moment at the thought of you missing him. As it always does.

Just two more floors to go. Sam would mock him for how long it’s taking him to get to the twelfth floor.

With wide eyes and his chest heaving, he sprints down the corridor to apartment number 12-303. He has to make it, he has to get to you before…

Ten!

Apartment 12-295 is on his right.

Nine!

Apartment 12-299…

Eight!

Apartment 12-301…

Much to his relief, the door to apartment 12-303 is unlocked. He had texted your friends hours ago, asking them to please leave the door unlocked. At least that had gone according to plan.

Your friends peek over to see him at the doorway and each give him a smug smile. Your back is facing away from him as you’re watching the countdown on the television screen. You turn your head a fraction, looking over your shoulder to call out for everyone to come watch the countdown, and then you see him.

You gasp loudly, hands over your mouth in complete surprise. Your heart is singing for him, begging you to to join him. You’re tethered to him, feet moving of their own accord.  Time stops for a moment, the faint sounds of the seconds counting down were nothing but static in your ears. All you can see is Bucky. Bucky who had done who knows what to make this special for you.

Bucky’s right in front of you with a small smile. He pulls you to him, not wasting a second before pressing his lips to yours just as the raucous cheers of happy new year go off around them. It’s just Bucky and you standing there with his hands cupping your cheeks and your hands light on his wrists. Glitter and confetti gently falls on his shoulders and your dark hair, giving you a crown of sparkles. Your soul is aflame, and you’re unable to keep yourself from smiling into the kiss.

He pulls away with bitten lips and rests his forehead against yours. He pulls a speck of confetti from your nose and kisses you once more.

“Happy new year’s, honey,” Bucky murmurs.

“Happy new year’s, baby,” You say, kissing his chin, “Thank you for doin’ this for me.”

“I told ya,” Bucky grins, lopsided and your favorite, “Told ya I’d see ya when I see ya.”

***

tags: @coal000 @hootyhoobuckaroo @buckyforbreakfast @lesqui @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @sergeantbarnescaptainrogers @whothehellisbucky

[more-miserables]

Here We Go: Yates and Ginger on the Run

Hi this is actually @cubeswhump editing on April’s blog. That’s why there’s a title, and why it’s so bad. 

So this is a collab with moi, Cube. We’ve had this planned since even before April’s first whump fic.

Warning for abuse, death, institutionalized slavery, vomiting, trauma response.

The life of a runaway was far from glamorous. Ginger remembered daydreaming while he scrubbed endless floors and windows, picturing himself living with Yates in a calm, peaceful woodland, cradled every night by the soft ferns and leaf litter. 

The city wasn’t calm or safe. Ginger didn’t stop running for a long time, hauling Yates along, until they were both gasping and red in the face. They dipped into a dark alleyway and Ginger ripped off his collar right away, grinning. It felt liberating. He tossed it away gleefully. 

“Get rid of yours too,” he told Yates. 

Yates didn’t react. His eyes were blank, though a steady stream of tears were pouring down his flushed cheeks. Ginger went to remove Yates’s collar himself, sighing. Yates didn’t fight him off, but he whimpered. 

“Look, you can keep it if you really want to. You just can’t wear it, or it’ll be obvious we’re runaways.” He balled up the collar and stuffed it into Yates’s pocket. 

They camped out in the alley that night, curled together under a nest of old newspapers - and that’s where they stayed for the next few days. Yates stayed in his weird catatonic funk, so it was Ginger who had to find them food and clothes and some sort of housing. It was harder than he’d thought. He knew so little about the outside world now. He learned to hang around market stalls, snatching at their displays and then running off with whatever loot he’d managed to grab. 

He couldn’t properly treat his burned palm now. He couldn’t even wash it properly. It soon grew more painful than ever, weeping through the grubby bandages. Then Ginger woke with a fever, and he couldn’t drag himself up to go find food. Yates snapped out of himself enough to cradle Ginger’s burning head in his lap, stroking his hair. 

Ginger peered up at Yates’s pale, grubby face through the fever haze. How would Yates manage if he died now? Maybe Stanley really was dead. Maybe they’d lock Yates up. He didn’t know if pets who committed crimes were refurbished or incarcerated. He pictured Yates stuck in prison all alone, crying for him. He couldn’t die. He could fight off anything. He had to. 

The first time Ginger heard it, he was emerging from a dream where he was being chased by something bulky, heavy. Clomp, clomp. It continued when he woke up but softer. They huddled together frightfully, but the sound became smaller and smaller.

When it came again the next night, Ginger dared to look, and blanched when the figure looked back. It was gone the next night, but the night after that the clomps paused much too close to their hideout. And then they resumed, coming right toward them.

“What is that?” Ginger gasped. 

“Maybe it’s the police,” Yates said shakily. “Because I’m a murderer.” He gave a little sob. 

“You’re not. Stanley just fell,” Ginger declared. 

“Shh!”

The footsteps stopped right in front of them, and a bright light shone in their faces. When Ginger dared give his fiercest glare through his fever-flushed face and squinting, he met big, blue eyes and shimmering glitter.

"Aha! Thought so," said this odd girl, long, black hair nearly touching their faces as she bent right over them. 

“Go away! I… I’ve got a weapon,” Ginger lied as savagely as possible. 

“Do you?” Yates gasped. “Where’d you get that?”

Ginger sighed heavily. 

The snort was too loud for the girl. She set her phone down on the dirty ground, its flashlight shining toward the sky, and sat right in the alleyway with them in her clean jeans.

"Hiya there, Tweedledee and Dum." Her accent was on the brink of familiarity but impossible to place, and nothing like those of Stanley or Ivy or anyone at the facility. "Don't make those faces. We're comrades."

“Those aren’t our names. You must be mistaking us for someone else,” Ginger said. 

Her face changed to something between a laugh and a grimace. "Righto. Mister and Mister fifty-sixty-ten?"

“That’s… not quite our number,” Yates whispered. 

“Shh!” Ginger hissed. “Don’t tell her.”

She paused, tilting her head, then rolled back the sleeve of her big coat.

"See this?" she asked, tapping on one of the big, green serpentine creature wrapping all around her forearm. The sparkly nail touched upon a segment covering her inner wrist. Ginger rubbed his eyes, trying to see clearly. His vision had been wobbly for a while now. She pointed the flashlight at it. 

He frowned. “There’s nothing there..?”

"'Xactly. Numbers aren't forever, love," she said, the bright light dancing around as she pulled her sleeve back down over the tattoo.

“You mean you were one of us?” Yates asked. 

"Bingo," she said, pointing at him. "C'mon, up up. You can get warmed up at my place while I make a few calls, yeah?"

She paused, head tilting to one side. She added, "You're probably not too keen on trusting a stranger, one of your own or not, but Little Red here ain't lookin' so hot, and I don't think you've many options." 

“He isn’t,” Yates said desperately. “I can’t get his temperature to go down. Can you really help us?”

"Yep, sure. You able to walk, Little Red?" She stood up, shining her phone at him. The light also illuminated the height of the platforms of her weather-inappropriate shoes, and it was clear what the clomping was.

“I dunno. Haven’t tried in a couple of days.” Ginger shakily got to his knees, and Yates helped him up the rest of the way. 

"You got it?" she asked.

“I think so.” He paused. “Why’d you wear shoes like that? They look uncomfortable.” Neither Yates nor Ginger had shoes at all, their bare feet cut and filthy. 

"Uniform, of sorts. I don't feel like carrying an extra pair of shoes to put on when I'm done with work."

“What job makes you wear shoes like that?”

"Tell ya later," she said, unzipping her jacket and tossing it to them. Despite the chill, she seemed fine in the tank top underneath. "Anyway, I'm Jamie. You guys got any name preferences for yourself?"

Yates opened his mouth, but Ginger shook his head quickly. Maybe Stanley’s “accident” had been on the news. They didn’t want to be tied to his surname. “Not anymore,” Ginger said. 

She seemed more cautious when they entered a neighborhood, looking at the windows of all the houses. It was nothing like Stanley's neighborhood, junker cars in tiny driveways and people shouting with open doors.

"Well, that's something to think about. You've got plenty of time though."

“We shouldn’t be out in the open,” Ginger hissed. He was still trying to look threatening, though that was difficult to pull off when he was leaning heavily on Yates just to stay standing. 

"No duh, but we don't have much of a choice," she muttered, pulling out a smartphone and typing away on it. "My house isn't far from here."

“Who are you texting? You’re not turning us in, are you? Is this a trick?”

"Can you read? Genuine question, I know lots of us can't. I'll show you the conversation, I'm just telling my mate we're havin' company." 

“I… a little bit. He can’t.” He pointed at Yates. “I’m not good at… being us.”

She held the phone out to Ginger, showing a text conversation with someone called Vivi:

Get bread read a green bubble, and then, And strawberries.

The following white bubble said: I'm already on our street. Needy cunt.

There was another white bubble with a later timestamp, seemingly unrelated to the previous exchange: Bringing some blokes over.

Green: Wtf - followed by a crying face emoji.

White: Chill, they're cool.

“What’s this word?” Ginger asked, pointing to the Wtf message. “There’s no vowels. Why doesn’t it have vowels?”

"Acronym or anagram or something. Each letter stands for a different word, in this case it means 'what the fuck'." 

“Oh. She doesn’t seem too pleased that we’re coming.”

"She's shy, not angry. She'll just hide in her room," Jamie said, pocketing her phone. And she walked down an empty driveway, not allowing them much time to process this response. 

“This is your house?” Ginger asked. He sounded relieved but breathless, his face waxy pale and sweaty. 

"Yep. Mi caso- casa, su casa," she said, trying the doorknob before patting her pockets for the key. She swung it open and kicked off her shoes very loudly, both thumping against a stained wall. She was about the same height as Yates now, possibly smaller if she washed out her hairspray. 

"Hey Vivs!" she yelled to no one in sight. Ginger winced at the noise, closing his eyes against the bright light. Everything hurt. 

"You guys wanna shower?" she asked, and gestured toward the bathroom. "You should prob'ly get cleaned up and then we'll see what we can do about that fever. We prob'ly have some pyjamas that won't fit too terribly." 

“I wanna sleep,” Ginger muttered. It was getting harder for Yates to keep him upright. 

"Uh, sure." She gestured for him to follow as she walked into the tiny living room. The furniture was surprisingly nice, and the TV looked gigantic against the wall. 

"So, do we know what's causin' the fever and general… drowsiness? I haven't heard you coughing or sniffing." Her voice never seemed to lose volume, just as loud as she disappeared through a doorway. 

“I think he has an infection,” Yates said. “He’s got a terrible burn and we couldn’t get it properly treated.”

She appeared again with two glasses of water, setting both on the silver coffee table that was squished in between the sofa and the stand the TV sat on. "Can I take a look?"

“No,” Ginger muttered, looking uncomfortable. “It’s gross.”

"Don't you want me to put somethin' on it until we can have it properly looked at?" 

“Well… The bandages could use a change.”

She paused. "Would you be more comfortable if I gave your buddy the supplies so he can do it?"

“Yes,” Ginger said quickly. “I need him to do it.”

She disappeared in a different direction this time. Cabinets opened and closed with thumps.

"Viv, what shit do I use for an infected burn? Hey, where are bandages?"

Footsteps, this small girl impossibly loud in her bare feet. "What do I use for an infected burn and where do I find it?"

The response, if there was one, was inaudible but after some more thumping, Jamie emerged with a tube of antiseptic and bandages. "One sec, I'll get you soap and water. Oh, a towel too. Vivien says to wash first and pat it dry, then…"

She went on as she disappeared into the kitchen. Yates tried to follow her and Ginger stumbled, not expecting the movement. They ended up in a heap on the carpet. 

"No, I'll get a bowl! Wait!" She reached toward them as if to just yank up two grown men, but she stopped herself. She straightened out and offered a hand instead. 

Yates went to take it, but then Ginger bent over and puked on the carpet. Yates’s face crumpled and he quickly positioned himself in front of Ginger, hunching over him protectively. “I’m sorry! It’s not his fault. He’s been vomiting for the past few days.”

"Uh, yeah, that happens." She was suddenly a bit quieter, smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Yeah, I'm gonna… can I help you get him on the sofa?" 

“Please. I can’t… I don’t think he can stand anymore.” Yates was near tears. “He’s been like this for a while and I hate that I can’t do anything. He tries to push himself for me but then this happens.”

The corner of her lip twitched. "I get that."

She knelt down and gripped Ginger under his arms, dragging him up. Her brows knitted together, teeth grit, but she managed to frog march him to the sofa and forced him into a sitting position. Yates sat beside him and held his shoulders when he started slumping forwards. Ginger was barely conscious now, his eyes glazed and half-closed. 

The hours were a blur, soap and antiseptic and coaxing painkillers and water down Ginger's throat while he was still pliable. Jamie was all over the place but the faceless Vivien never made an appearance. By the time they’d finished, Ginger was asleep - or unconscious. 

And then Yates was stirring, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. When did he fall asleep, and how long? It was almost pitch black save for a light from the hall.

After a quick check that Ginger was still breathing, he heard it: mumbled voices from down that hall. He carefully moved off the sofa, silent in his bare feet, and crept towards the noise and the light. He peered through the crack in the door. 

"Just- okay," Jamie said, trying to control her volume as it started to rise. "If you're goin' to be fookin' useless, just give me David's number."

"What's she saying?" This voice was unfamiliar, and effortlessly quieter than Jamie's. "Jamie, what's she saying?"

"She thinks a phone call will put her safehouse in danger. She's worked with countless o' us and she's too chickenshit to take on a pair that's got in a bitta trouble. What? Murderer? Marianne, that's blimey unfair to call him that! Just give us David's number!"

Yates started shaking at the word. Murderer murderer murderer. Was Stanley dead then? Did people know about it already? He hadn’t really meant to push Stanley - or he hadn’t planned it, at least. When Stanley had been ranting and raving about how he was going to split him and Ginger up, something in Yates just snapped. Stanley was hovering right there, tantalisingly close to the perilous staircase. He pushed without thinking. But he’d still pushed. He was a murderer. 

"Jamie, they'll hear you! You're so loud!"

"Mar, just… Vivi, can you go check on them?"

"No fear!"

Yates was trying to stay quiet, but murderer was still spinning in his head. A little whimper slipped out before he could stop it. 

There was a beat of silence that seemed to last for hours. 

"Hold on, gimme a sec. And you better not fookin' hang up."

The door opened slowly. A girl with a puff of frizzy brown hair and gigantic eyes stared from the bed, but she faded to the background. The girl standing before him was almost unrecognizable with her black hair lying limply and makeup washed off; no contouring giving the impression of high cheekbones, eyebrows and eyelashes almost nonexistent at a glance for they were so pale. But the voice was unmistakably Jamie.

"Hey, so you heard that. That's fair, it is your business, but… this prob'ly wasn't the best way to start the discussion."

“You promised you wouldn’t turn us in,” Yates gasped. He felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out, and he gasped frantically. “You said you were on our side! But now they’ll come for us and split us up.”

"No one's turnin' anyone in. Come sit down, you look ready to faint."

“I h-heard you say it. You called me murderer,” Yates whispered. 

"No, I was sayin' that you're not, I know the kinda circumstances…"

“We’ve got nowhere to go,” Yates said, starting to sob frantically. “I don’t know what to do!”

"Listen, listen. There's people who help us when we escape. There are places for us to stay. And I'm tryin' to get you to one of these safehouses so you'll be safe."

“You promise?” Yates wept. “You won’t split us up either?”

"No way. Vivien and I met in a safehouse, didn't we?" Jamie asked, and the frizzy-haired girl gave a jerky nod. "They're fine, way better than what we left. No owners, none o' that shit."

“Will they help Ginger’s hand?” He gasped. “Oh, I said his name!”

"Ginger?" She raised her invisible eyebrows, snorting humorlessly. "I was interchangeably Blondie and Bimbo. Yeah, they'll help him. They'll have all the right medications." 

“I don’t think he likes his name much. He says we can choose our own now,” Yates said. “But I don’t think that’s allowed.”

"Come in, sit," she said, practically forcing him to sit on the bed, as Vivien retreated from the room. "Who says it's not allowed?" 

“Everyone…” he mumbled. “Everyone in training and Stanley and Ivy.” Yates wasn’t too good at this lying low business. 

"So? You're not pets anymore. I named me Jamie."

“Why Jamie?”

"Dunno. Felt right. Not too girly, not too boy-ee, short and simple, straight to the point." 

“Did your owners name you first?”

"One, not owners. Slave drivers. Two, kind of, as I said earlier. Not a proper name, just…" She pulled a face, and put on a deeper, plummy voice. "''Come here, Blondie!' 'Don't drop that, Bimbo!'"

“Stanley called me by his surname. He could be so kind to me,” Yates mumbled, fingering the collar still in his pocket. 

The phone on the bed vibrated. Jamie picked it up and looked at it as she talked. "Tell me, Curls. Should a human have possession of another human?"

“I…” He winced as his head throbbed and he reverted back to the phrases drilled into him in training. “That’s none of my concern. I just have to work diligently and follow orders.”

"Why? Why do you have to do that and not, say, Stanley? Think about it, I got this schmuck's number." 

“Schmuck?” He didn’t recognise that word. Was it bad?

"I don't know the origins but yeah, it's derogatory. I like to think of it as a mix o' shit and fuck but there's an m, so I dunno."

“You have his number?” Yates started shaking again, biting his lip. What did she mean? He’d had a number before, him and Ginger. Was this David one of them too?

"Yeah? His mobile? He's this big money agent of sorts, he's not so bad actually but ya know, rich people." 

“Sorry, yes, of course. It just… started to feel real,” Yates mumbled dazedly. “And you’re sure he’s good? He won’t turn us in?”

"Nah, he has a huge network for pet lib. Uh, pet liberation. He helps us get free. He doesn't run a safehouse, he's too much in the public eye so he'd get caught, but he, like, funds a bunch and I think his son runs one. If I ring him he'll know where to place you." 

“Can’t we just stay here with you?” Jamie was the first person to treat them kindly since… well, as long as Yates could remember. 

"You can come and visit, I'd love that. We're mates now, right? But you guys need medical care, therapy, shit you won't get here. Plus I work nights six days a week and Vivien, much as I love her, won't be a great hostess to you two." 

“But we can visit? Definitely?”

"Yeah, and if David tells me where you are I'll visit too." 

Yates smiled; it was very weak, but it was his first real smile in days. 

It was almost peaceful - almost - with the orange-pink light of the rising sun filling the room, a steaming cup of watery hot chocolate in his hands, a cartoon playing on the TV, him and Ginger getting a good night of sleep for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. The anxiety was still there as Jamie murmured to an unseen stranger on the phone, occasionally peeking out of the kitchen to check on him, and the uncertainty surrounding Ginger's fever and bandaged hand. 

Jamie came out at last, the rectangular outline of her phone in her baggy pyjama pants. She grinned and gave him a thumbs up, perching on the arm of the couch. 

“Is it all fixed?” he whispered, hardly daring to hope. 

"Yep. Says he'll be sendin' someone promptly, his words. Hopefully you get someone fun, my Marianne was such a fussy grandma." 

“I don’t think Ginger would like fussy people.”

"Let's cross our fingers, bud." She crossed her fingers for him to see. "But you won't be placed with anyone bad, I promise."

“Okay…” Yates still didn’t look too sure. He stuck close to Jamie, following her around like a puppy. He jumped violently when there was a soft knock on the door sometime later.

Jamie glanced toward the door, and over at Yates. 

"Think that's your ride."