#if he was real id want to be in the same area as him constantly. hed hate me <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[mechawolfie]

what was that. sorry i was fantasizing about kissing hassian. from palia

[ddejavvu]

ANOTHER JAMES POTTER THOUGHT LMAOOO. k. so. hear me out. fake dating!James potter. sirius brings it up, the idea of you and James fake dating, cus youre all nervous about going to a family event cus it'll just be more comments about your lack of love life constantly. so sirius mentions that maybe you should just bring someone and say that theyre ur bf; it'd be easier AND you wouldnt be alone, muddling your way through awkward social conversations and such. remus, surprisingly, agrees with sirius when you laugh at the idea. ever the empath, he softly explains how it could be a great idea for you, and it'd solve a few issues at the same time. James doesnt really say anything till sirius suggests you bring him as your fake boyfriend, and James is immediately lighting up like "im your boyfriend??? yeah??" and he just.. cannot be told, no matter how many times you stress that he'd be a fake boyfriend, he just repeats that hes your boyfriiiieeeennnddd though. plain and simple.

he definitely takes his role seriously. makes excuses like, "we have to practice kissing, id kiss you ALOT as your boyfriend, yknow. and I dont want you to freeze up if I kiss you for the first time and you dont know how to react. we MUST practice." also holdsur hand all the time now and hes shameless about it - "but lovely, im ur boyfriend im meant to hold ur hand, cmonnn". even gets jealous like a real boyfriend would now (not that he didn't before, but now he lets it show).

at the event, also has a habit of stealing you away and keeping up the boyfriend role, im saying he lays it on THICK, doesnt matter if no one else can see it or is paying attention. im talking touchy, he probably nuzzles his face down into yours alot,constant love sick expression on his face. its gets so bad that even ur brother is like "wow, didn't realise youd get an actual boyfriend. like, what blackmail do u have on him?? did you finally submit to the devil and curse him or smthn cus Jesus fucking christ sis look at him, hes mooning over you from across the room. seems like an alright bloke though. maybe."

can imagine that hes touchy and sweet and etcetcetc but also. after ur little event is done, he stops joking and pretending, bends down to you and "so can I be your boyfriend now. pleeeaase?? ur auntie even said that I must be a lovely young man.. you think im a lovely young man too, right? so I can be ur boyfriend?? ]: please?"

FAKE DATING JAMES IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES WITH HIM!!!!!!!!! BECAUSE BECAUSE BECAUSE he'd want to 'sell it' just like you mentioned, and he'd plan these insane grandiose gestures that have you melting for real and then you sneak off to a private area and he's giggling like they totally bought it!! and ur weak in the knees like yEah they did!!

you stress so many times to him that he's your fake boyfriend. fake. FAKE. but he absolutely refuses to say that, he calls it method acting. he's gotta get in character, he can't tell himself it's fake all the time or it'll seem fake!

no bc even before you get to your parents house he's like okay so let's practice our kisses. we're gonna need casual cheek kisses, the 'i-don't-want-to-make-a-scene kiss', the 'we-think-we're-alone' kiss, the forehead kiss, the hand kiss, the air kiss- and he's rambling on about all the ways he's gonna smooch you up and your cheeks are on fire.

the days leading up to the event he does practice! whenever you walk out of a room he grabs your hand and tugs you down to kiss your cheek, he makes you kiss him goodnight every night before bed, he even insists that you give it all you've got when no one else is around so that you get comfortable being passionate with him.

he greets your mom like the perfect gentleman, bringing her a bouquet and offering to help with dinner. but when she politely declines the help he sits on the floor at your feet while you're on the couch, spreads ur knees so that he can sit between your calves, and hangs out with the kiddos on the floor. he's their big jungle gym, constantly has children crawling all over him, and they definitely ask him scandalized questions like 'you KISS her?!?!?!' and then he gets this big shit-eating grin on his face and leans up to lay a big fat wet juicy smooch on your lips and they all chorus 'ewww!' and run off to giggle about it somewhere else. it leaves james with no more playmates, so he hoists himself up onto the couch and wraps an arm around you, proceeding to be sickeningly sweet and domestic and cute. definitely a nuzzler, ur so right <33333

YES THE TEASING FROM EVERYONE ELSE SKGNG ur grandma is like 'i'm glad you found a good man before i die' and ur auntie is like 'does he have an older brother??' everyone is enamored by this loverboy you've brought home, and he plays the part so well that no one ever realizes it was fake.

which is good, because it isn't for long. he definitely begs for you to give him a chance at being your real boyfriend, but you don't bother even giving him the chance, you just tell him you already know he'll be a fantastic real boyfriend because he went so above and beyond when it was only supposed to be fake :') ur so far gone for him and it's the best night of his life, i guarantee it :')

[ainri]

obsessive love disorder

•“youre so upset with me but im so obsessed with you…”

inspired by i’m so crazy for you by rebzyyx ^

• hunter x hunter

•characters: chrollo lucilfer, hisoka morow, illumi zoldyck

• them stalking gn!(name)

•fic warnings: !dark content!, cuss words, stalking, implied threatening, violence mentioned in chrollo’s part, kidnapping in hisoka’s part, photos taken w/o readers consent, reader contemplates suicide in illumi’s part.

•i honestly couldn’t decide because this isnt fluff and also isnt angst. its really just !dark content!

•masterlist

•a/n: guys this was supposed to be a fluff of them having a s/o stronger than them. didn’t even mean for this to become dark content. also illumi was gonna be in black but then i changed my mind last minute…

chrollo lucilfer

—

~what the fuck is going on???

~you were verbally fighting at an underground auction.

~you got mad and swung at him

~not only did he constantly outbid you by a single cent, he dared to call you a ‘crude’ for rejecting him after the auction!?

~he didn’t bother to stop your punch. he didn’t think you’d actually land the hit on him.

~the hit (in which he thought youd miss) actually hurt.

~for you to be stronger than him you’d have to be like batshit strong….. so props to you!

~suddenly you start seeing him all around york new city, almost too much, almost stalker-ish..

~“(name)! lets fight again and no sneak attacks but lets not use nen—“

~then it hit you.

~“wait! how do you know my name? i never shared it with you. in fact, tell me, why do we keep intersecting paths in a city as big as york new? i never saw you before the fight, i’m sure of it! have you been stalking me since?”

~what! of course not! we just happen to be in the same area again at the same time id never stalk you… i heard someone call you by a name so i assumed it was your name.”

~he said it mildly suspiciously with it being crystal clear he had made up the excuse as he was speaking.

~you knew he had to be following you. no way this was all by chance. you dont even use your real name on documents!?

~“i dont believe you, besides i know youre lying. stop following me, i know you are. you breathe quite loudly to be honest.”

~he froze. how did you know? what would he do?

hisoka morow

—

~this is….bizarre to say the least.

~hisoka attracted to a random defense attorney?

~“don’t fucking talk to me, you know i don’t like you. get out of my sight. i dont desire to see trash like you this early on in the day.”

~(name) said coldly, not wanting to deal with any of hisoka’s shit today.

~maybe it was the authority in your voice? intelligence? how you looked? oh! or maybe how you carried yourself? who knows.

~not that you were complaining! it was just weird.

~exes suddenly all apologizing, or coming up as dead. almost as if they’d been threatened.

~“so mean (name)! why do you hate me so much hmmm? i’m sure you appreciate your exes saying sorry why be upset?”

~your eyes widened almost unnoticeably.

~all anyone knew about hisoka the magician was once he wanted something, he got it. no matter what he had to go through to get it.

~“how do you know about that hisoka?”

~random camera flashes, feeling like someone was watching, clothes disappearing, items in your apartment being in different places within hours. this is eerie, unnatural almost.

~“a magician never tells his secrets! you should know this best of all my dear (name).”

~you pause, looking back at hisoka in shock and fear. suddenly everything went to black. all that was left in your vision was hisoka standing over you.

illumi zoldyck

—

~how did one of the strongest members of the zoldyck family become so attached to a mere servant?

~maybe it started in your teen years when you were assigned off to protect illumi?

~nonetheless, being a zoldyck servant was nothing short of eventful.

~from the usual family fights to having to coordinate his outfits.

~“(name) does this look good on me?”

~“it does look good on you young master; do you believe it looks good on you too?”

~“hmm yeah i do. it reminds me of that coat you were looking at with canary.”

~you weren’t even together that day. it was your only day off this year.

~he had always stalked you. you knew it, you just couldnt do anything about it.

~i mean what are you gonna do? tell silva his son’s stalking you? he simply doesn’t care, why waste his time and have him get rid of you?

~defying illumi is like asking for death. you’d rather kill yourself then upset illumi.

~that fate (of defying him) was much worse then death, something his previous ‘caretakers’ knew well before their untimely deaths.

~you have many bigger issues in your life than his stalking and undergarment theft.

~until he does something and goes well, too far, there’s nothing you can do until then.

~not until he gets bored of you, can you do anything to free yourself from this life.

~the day he gets bored of you is the day that you’ll likely end it.

~a day you should look forward to as a zoldyck servant.

©2023 ainri; do not repost my work without credit or repost my work in a different language♡

[yhwhrulz]

Worthy Brief - February 8, 2023

Will you let Him reign?

Genesis 37:8 And his brethren said to him, Shalt thou indeed reign over us? or shalt thou indeed have dominion over us? And they hated him yet the more for his dreams, and for his words.

Luke 19:14 But his citizens hated him, and sent a message after him, saying, We will not have this man to reign over us.

Another aspect of Mashiach ben Yosef is that the world would resist his authority.

When Joseph told his family of his dreams, they were outraged at the suggestion that their younger brother would reign over them. They simply had no idea that God would make Joseph exactly the kind of ruler they needed.

Likewise, the world is outraged by Yeshua's claim to be ruler of this world. Never mind that His astounding humility completely qualifies Him to be loved, worshiped, and respected.

Joseph won the hearts of his brothers through the grace, forgiveness, and love that he showed them after they had rejected and sought to kill him. Yeshua wins our hearts the same way, and yet we still find resistance to His authority in some areas of our lives.

The longer I walk as a believer, the more I find myself between two realities. As my life becomes more consecrated and I realize how Holy He truly is, I become increasingly aware of my own true condition, "Woe is me, for I’m a man of unclean lips!" My life may seem to be holier to the world, while inside, my spirit is crying out, "Lord, Help me!" It's because I can see and feel more clearly the areas in my soul that are still not submitted to Him. Yet His Spirit is constantly nudging me, "I want this part of your life too!"

If the Spirit of God is nudging you to surrender something, somehow, somewhere… it’s time to give it over to Him. Don’t wait another day. Take a moment and say once again, "Lord, I want you to reign over all my life!"

Your family in the Lord with much agape love,

George, Baht Rivka, Obadiah and Elianna (Going to Christian College in Dallas, Texas) Daytona Beach, Florida

Registration is closing soon! Join us on an epic, life changing journey through Israel, https://worthynews.us12.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b94ae97bb66e693a4850359ec&id=7458d50576&e=3d3c649f0e through the eyes of those who are well acquainted with the culture, the people and the Land. This is not your average Israel tour— bring your family, bring your friends, and experience the REAL ISRAEL with George and Baht Rivka as your personal hosts.

[tartrazeen]

@chandler-draws okay BUT FOR REAL

I spent so much time trying to map out the best-case, most plausibly deniable set of actions Hank could been doing.

"Ugh, my fucking boss assigned me to an android. I guess I'm stuck with him."

The - uh... same boss that Hank routinely ignores, who constantly cuts Hank slack because of their friendship, and whose office Hank storms in - WHILE HE IS SOBER, and therefore reasonably more in control of his actions - to scream he's not putting up with an android as his partner?!

"Ugh, my fucking boss assigned me to an android. I'm not putting up with that shit. I'm gonna dump this guy at the end of town and leave him there lol."

Possibly! Because Hank's drunk at this point, and we've seen how he parks his car that one time (across his lawn), so yes, this man drives drunk. I could see him having that idea, except thaaaaaaat...

He immediately drives to the scene of the crime and starts the investigation.

"Ugh, my fucking boss assigned me to an android. I'm not putting up with that shit. I'm gonna dump this guy at the end of town and leave him there lol. But first, I have to go do my job, so I guess I need to bring him with me."

🙃

Okay, putting aside the very first thing I wrote in my original post ("Why the fuck did Hank even let Connor in his car???"), this is someone who has never shown himself to be in a rush to get to the crime scene.

Put aside whether or not he even shows up. Ben cracks a joke about that, but let's assume it's just a joke, and Hank still always eventually makes his way over to the crime scene.

He still has enough time to make a detour first, which would be the more immediate 'I'm ditching this asshole' urge that his drunk id is ranting about it.

Instead, the guy who canonically has multiple coworkers joke about whether Hank was gonna show up, canonically arrives late to work the next day, canonically has to have his ass dragged off the floor and into a tub and then to Ye Olde Sexe Clube, is suddenly dead-set on driving Connor - who Hank doesn't like! - somewhere else... but only after he shows up to the crime scene on time.

Let's even say it's on the way. Like the only place Hank could get rid of Connor is directly en route to the crime scene, so this is just convenient.

EXCEPT THE BAR SCENE ALWAYS ENDS WITH HANK DELIBERATELY STATING THAT HE'S GOING TO THE CRIME SCENE.

That's right - these hypotheticals were a TRICK, because Hank was VERY CLEAR about his intentions.

"Ugh, fine, I'll go do my stupid fucking job. And then I'll get rid of this goddamn android. But leave it in the car 'cause I don't need running around and touching shit."

"Sorry, android, you don't have permission to enter this area-"

"LET HIM IN, HE'S WITH ME, THAT'S MY ANDROID, YESSIR, I HAVE CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT NOT WANTING HIM IN HERE AND AM NOW PUBLICLY DECLARING MY AFFILIATION WITH HIM."

🙃🙃

Alright, but Connor is designed to manipulate people, and canonically uses puppy eyes to get Hank to do what he wants. That's a thing Connor reserves for Hank because it's so effective. (🙃) What if Hank just sees this idiot looking so sad and worthless outside of the police line, and intervenes because of th-HE FUCKING HATES ANDROIDS

HE HATES - HE'S LIKE - THAT'S HIS WHOLE THING!!!

Neutral, Hank tells Connor to run along, but then decides eh, screw it, bring the android, and then tells Connor to wait in the car anyway. Angry, he tells Connor that he's going to set him on fire, and still vouches for Connor to walk in. If the plan was to prove that he brought Connor along and didn't end up needing him, why:

a) leave Connor in the car instead of bringing him along in the first place, or

b) help Connor through the police line when he was specifically told to stay in the car?

Maybe the plan changed - AFTER Connor was already in the car with him! Driving to the crime scene! Bringing Connor without intending to actually let Connor go to the crime scene, just take up space in Hank's car!

DO YOU SEE WHY I SAID THIS WAS BONKERS

Every step of the way, there's reason after reason for why Hank bringing Connor along for professional purposes doesn't make sense. Then there are certain personal purposes that don't make sense. All that leaves just a handful of very specific purposes (👀 that magazine, when did Hank get it, before or after he met Connor?) for this to be happening.

Damn, no wonder buying Hank a drink worked so well. That thirst is immediate and insatiable.

... why the fuck did Hank let Connor into his car?

Some random android rocks up, mouths off, dumps your drink, smirks at you like the overt asshole that he is, and says, "I'm riding with you tonight. Giddy-up."

And Hank - at his most hostile, because let's put the Polite!Connor responses aside - endures this, threatens to burn Connor in a dumpster, lifts him off the ground... and then decides, "Sure, yeah, I'll clear my passenger seat off for you :3"

I was just wondering why Hank didn't take the opportunity to get rid of Connor once Connor gets stopped trying to enter Ortiz' house. But then I realized how Connor got to that house - by having Hank drive this randy andy to it - and and and and and and and anD HANK YOU TOLD CONNOR TO JUST WAIT IN THE CAR AT FIRST, BUDDY, BRUH, DOWN-BAD BOY, WHAT EXACTLY WAS YOUR PLAN FOR IF CONNOR STAYED IN THE CAR?

Literally walk through this scene:

- Stranger comes up to you at a bar

- Says he's getting in your car with you

- You have no proof that he's actually who he says he is

- You are drunk

- Your boss doesn't tell you this is your new partner until tomorrow

- You hate androids

- You had zero interest in going anywhere before this

- You grab that smug android off his feet and bring him right up into your face (or you're happy 'cause this kid just bought you a drink 😉)

- In this emotional state, you agree to take him along in the car

- You tell him to stay in the car until you're back

- You're just gonna run in, kick some evidence around, then get back to this android who you told to still be there afterwards

And like

NO WONDER THE FIRST THING BEN SAYS IS, "😉 Got yourself an android, huh?"

AND NO WONDER THE MAGAZINE WE SEE IN HANK'S ROOM IS, "Mmmm androids, amirite? 😉"

The agony of having to go to an android strip club and ramble about how you would never, ever have a relationship with an android that yoU WERE TAKING TO A NON-WORK RELATED LOCATION FIVE WHOLE MINUTES AFTER YOU MET, APPARENTLY, 'CAUSE CONNOR WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO WAIT IN THE CAR

IS

BONKERS

Oh, Hank. 🙂 You poor man. 🙃 That's why there's so much rain in all of their scenes together - it's whole damn universe trying to quench this unbridled thirst.

Also no wonder Sixty took him hostage so fast - and without a single mark on Hank at all (that we could see lmaoooo)

[smurphyse]

Hey!!! I know you’re in a lot of stress and I hope your week has started off okay! Sending good vibes!!! ✨✨✨

On another note maybe this will entertain you, Id love your thoughts on my current situation: soooo I am snapping/sexting with this guy anonymously for like almost 2 years every other week. Sometimes we talked about different stuff but mainly just that, I only know that he is like around the same area but that could range from 150miles away. Well a couple weeks ago I was briefly dating someone and told him I wasn’t going to snap with him cause I was dating someone and he got kind of upset and I was like??? You telling me you haven’t been dating these two years and have a right to be upset? And he was like: no I haven’t but recently I’ve been thinking that we could take this into real life. I was really surprised and that was the first time we kind of openly talked about what we’ve been doing/thinking and well then we stopped talking cause I was dating someone. That didn’t work out and I snapped him again a couple days ago and now we’re constantly talking and figured out that we live really close to each other but we still don’t know each others identity but now he really wants to meet me and I kind of want that too but GIRL the things I send him and we talked about idk I can’t imagine the receiving person to know who I am 😳💀💀💀 I’m such a prude in rl but this could be so exciting and I really like him and omfg it’s all a MESS. Anyways I can’t tell this anyone cause well it’s kind of crazy so you’re on the receiving end here😅 love you smurphhhh!!!

I mean... if you want to go for it! And if you've sent the spicyyy stuff... maybe just lean into it and enjoy yourself! (Safely, of course). Also, I love hearing the crazy dating stuff you guys are doing. It honestly makes me happy you want to share it with me at all!

[elysianslove]

when the stars align; oikawa tōru

requested by anon; ❝ hi bb :) can I request an Oikawa and reader story where they’re two petty/sarcastic best friends. Like they just have that understanding that their love is shown through petty comments or bickering lol but n e ways, the reader gets approached by a guy she doesn’t really like but isn’t thinking and says she’s seeing Oikawa and now they have to act like a couple but all they end up doing is bickering and Oikawa complaining. I hope that makes sense lol thxx <3 ❞

pairing; oikawa tōru x reader 

warnings; it’s the fake dating trope with oikawa tōru. that is a warning in itself

note; i screamed when i found this in my inbox this trope has a special place in my heart and the fact that oikawa was requested??? pls don’t let this flop :(

━ you’re not sure why you said it. you rack your mind for an excuse: you’ve known him too long, you spend majority of your time with him, you had just been texting him a moment earlier — that must’ve been why you’d sprouted that ridiculous excuse to rid yourself of spewing out a futile, useless rejection. there’s an array of mixed emotions on you as you watch the boy before you shrivel in disappointment, sighing in frustration.

“i’m sorry, i’m dating oikawa right now, actually,” you had said, like the liar the same boy you refer to has coerced you into becoming to fuel your endless sneaking out.

the guy before you, honestly nameless due to both your carelessness towards him and your uncomfortableness around him, shoves his hands into his pockets cooly, attempting to shrug it off. “well, you know where to find me in case it doesn’t work out,” he jokes, and you have to fight off the urge to cringe directly in his face at his words.

instead, you lightly smile, more similar to a grimace, and nod politely, before turning and heading in the complete opposite direction, despite the other way having been your initial route. your shaky hands fumble for your phone, and you pull it out, unlocking it and tapping on the messages app.

i did something stupid, you type out, and you’re unsure whether you’re grateful or thrown off by how quick oikawa responds.

not surprising. what did u do

the familiarity of his tone only calms you slightly, and before you can talk yourself out of it, already having thrown yourself too deep when you’d thought up the lie, you explain the situation briefly. instead of a text message response, his caller id flashes across your screen, and your breath hitches. regret begins flooding you, and carefully, you slide to answer.

“i don’t want to hold your hand!” you complain, smacking at his palm when it reaches for yours.

oikawa sighs amusingly, grabbing your wrist anyways and linking your fingers together. against all odds, and to your disappointment, you shiver at the feel of his hand in yours. it’s considerably larger, and despite the fact that this is farthest from the first time you’ve gripped his hand, your insides twist. his fingers are slender, and his palm and the pads of his fingers are soft. for all the years you’ve known oikawa, his hands constantly run cold, and you’ve hated it for multiple reasons. one being the way it gave him an ego boost of ‘cold hands only mean i have a warm heart.’ the second being his infuriating actions of constantly pressing his palms to your skin, specifically the back of your neck. but most importantly, it signifies just how little oikawa tends to care for himself at times, the way his hands shake when it gets too cold, when the world grows too small, the tips of his fingers a bruised blue and purple. and you hate it. even more so, you hate how much you hate it.

despite all this, his hand feels — nice in yours; it’s a comfortable contrast to your own warm hand. still, your frown remains on your face as you see the school gates appear before two of you, never daring to reveal any of your thoughts to him.

“if you didn’t want to hold my hand, you would’ve thought up a better lie,” oikawa argues, and you turn your head to glare at him. he diffuses it easily when his thumb brushes against the back of your hand, your words faltering momentarily. “could’ve had anyone! iwa, mattsun, makki— i know they woulda loved to do this with you.”

“you’re insufferable,” you huff, but your cheeks are painting red, visibly too. he’s right, you realize. he’s terribly right.

“but you still chose me,” he teases.

your hand in his twists until you’re bending his wrist at an awkward, painful angle, until he’s pinching at your arm to force you away. he’s right, but that doesn’t make it mean anything.

by now, you’ve spent more time glaring at oikawa threateningly and in warning than you have your entire friendship with him, and it’s honestly starting to give you a headache. after admitting your situation to the three other third years, and giving them maximum fifteen minutes to laugh until they ran out of breath, iwaizumi included, spend the next twenty minutes huddled up next to oikawa, your chair attached to his.

the guy, who had been persistent enough in asking you out that you’d resorted to this, decided to spend his lunch break in the same area as the five of you, leaving you unable to push away and bicker with oikawa the same way you would any other day. you pick at your food as you avoid his gaze, oikawa’s arm around your shoulder heavy, leaving a trail of sparks up your spine and along your arms. it makes you want to scream, loudly too.

makki and mattsun have resorted to making fun of the guy, whispering between themselves, but it’s still awfully loud enough that there’s no possible way he can’t hear. iwaizumi and oikawa have their attention on each other, discussing some upcoming practice match in the weekend.

and all you’re left with are your thoughts, your nagging, unbearable thoughts, about how pretty oikawa’s hand looks as it hangs by your shoulder, brushing against your arm with every small shift of his body. with shameful, red cheeks, you shut your eyes in frustration, and allow the regret to boil and build in your stomach.

the weeks pass steadily. outside of school, your relationship with oikawa remains unchanged, and although he’s just as touchy as he is with you with an audience, the source of affection continues to be — simply friendship. and whenever you catch any disappointment building because of that, you pinch yourself in reminder than none of it is real. the way he always has an arm around you, the way he fumbles with your fingers, the way he ties your hair back for you while you work on an essay during your break, the way he kisses your cheek, a show of respect for your boundaries, but as a way to reinforce that you’re his in front of anyone, or the way he lets you lift one leg over his own, just because.

and you’re left wondering that if it were real, would it be the same?

he sits before you now, cross legged on your bed, back straightened and mouth stuffed with popcorn, completely engrossed in the movie before him with his eyes wide open. the three other boys are spread across the room: makki laying on his stomach, chin perched on his hands by the edge of the bed, while mattsun and iwaizumi share the couch, drinks in their hands, all three just as enamored by the movie as oikawa. 

you had always been aware of just how pretty he is, and everyone around you has always ensured that you do. was it the way the light from the screen shone in his face, reflecting in his pretty brown eyes and shadowing some of his features? or was it the way he sat so comfortable in your bed, in nothing but sweatpants and a loose shirt because, of course, the four of them were bound to stay the night? was it the way his lips glistened with the water he gulped, or because of the way his tongue poked out to lick at the salt from the popcorn? 

or was it nothing in particular, or everything all at once?

sighing lowly, you shift and sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and heading towards the bedroom door. “i’m gonna grab some water; anyone want anything?” you announce.

none of them seem to hear you, too lost in the movie, but makki turns his head to the side slightly, eyes remaining on the screen, and replies, “no thank you.” it’s all you need to leave the room.

as you walk out, oikawa eyes you, then eyes the filled up water bottles next to where you had been sitting. his heart tightens in his chest.

two months into the fake relationship you’d established with oikawa, and it begins to feel natural. it no longer feels off putting to walk hand in hand with him to school, or to greet him with a grandiose hug and a kiss on the cheek, or to wear his jersey to games and cheer for him from the stands, or to constantly have his ankle looped with yours beneath the table where, despite this all being for show, nobody can really see.

outside of your fake relationship traditions are your friendship traditions, which include, but are not limited to, him walking you home. it’s always been mostly because your mother adores him, or because he prefers the food that’s at your home as opposed to his, or because your home is on the way to his anyways, but it’s a lot closer, so he always ends up staying longer than anticipated.

either way, it’s not unusual that he walks by your side as the moon illuminates your path. it is, however, not very like him to stay quiet the entire way. you can see the roof of your home growing in size as you near it, and he’s yet to say a word to you. it both weirds you out and worries you, and before you can convince yourself you were overreacting, you pause in your step, the gravel beneath you scratching and crunching as you turn to face him.

“alright, spit it out.”

his eyes meet yours, wide and confused. “what?”

you sigh. “something’s up, and you’re either gonna tell me now or i’ll force it out of you later,” you reply.

“i’m not—”

“oikawa.”

“stop it, i’m fine—“

“tōru.”

“i can’t do this anymore.”

your heart stills, and almost as if in understanding, in pity, so does the world around you. the wind no longer howls in agony, respecting your need for silence as the trees around you look on curiously. your brain processes a little slower than your mouth, and you’re asking him, “what are you talking about?” before you could think.

his gaze falls from yours again, and he takes a step back. “i can’t be with you anymore. or — fake being with you anymore,” he admits to you.

you’re not sure why, but you had imagined this scenario to be a lot less earth shattering than it is. maybe you’d grown to like faking it, because it slowly started to become the closest you could get to experiencing it realistically. you refuse to speak, and it isn’t because you’re angry at him. it’s because you genuinely are lost for words. it’s not even a real break up, but it still hurts just as bad, if not worse. it’s your own fault for believing that this, whatever this was, was as simple as it seemed.

“not unless— not unless i can really be with you.”

what?

“what?”

he breathes in steadily, and moves forward, closer, closer, closer to you. his hands rise to your cheeks, cupping them softly, flinching when your breath hitches. but you make no move to push him away, only stare up at him, in wonder, in confusion. he opens his mouth, preparing himself to speak. you expect a monologue, a speech, a declaration of his undying love for you, because it sounds just as dramatic as oikawa is. the moon above you holds its breath, waiting for the band to snap, for the words to spill and drown you. 

but then he kisses you. 

his hands urge you up and he meets you halfway, pressing his lips to yours. they’re soft, and he tastes like cherry, and it’s probably your chapstick if you were being honest with yourself. his mouth moves languidly against yours, as if he’s trying to drag out every moment, as if he wants to purposefully slow down time, begging and pleading for the world around him to stop. the kiss is sweet, gentle, and somehow, kissing him is exactly the way you’d imagined it would. it’s breathtaking, and dizzying, and overwhelming, and needy and it’s beautiful. 

when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go of you. his hands remain cupping your jaw, his mouth hovering over yours. his thumb brushes along your cheek momentarily as he gazes at you, admiring you, as if memorizing every inch and every detail of your features. 

“tōru, you idiot,” you sigh. the insult isn’t foreign to him, not even on your tongue, but he still looks taken aback, and even more so when you reach up and close the distance between you again. the world lives again, the moon celebrating within the clouds, the wind twisting in your hair, whispering and whistling cheerfully by your ear as the trees dance.

 it all comes together, and the stars finally align. 

end note; i’m so happy with this!!! i hope everyone enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it!!! <3

[fuck-customers]

This is a fuck-everyone at that job actually

I used to work at a popular chicken place named after a certain spinach lover. It. Was. Fucking. Awful.

Note: I miss my old manager, she was actually the only sane person in that hell hole.

I had 3 supervisors at that job. All of them treated me like shit. I should note I was 17 at the time, and very confused on how to actually work in a food court. I worked specifically for the Government so it was at least more familiar to me since I also happen to be a military kid. But anyways.

One supervisor, we'll call him K, was... very strange? He started out sweet, but the moment I hit like 6 months there he suddenly would treat me like I was 5 and totally ignored all of my medical orders. I get its probably annoying that I cant lift a 30 pound tea vat, but I literally was not allowed to because I have tendonitis. I did most of the time anyways, and did infact ruin my wrist further. This same supervisor would also often make crude comments at me, asking me about if I've ever banged someone or if I had a boyfriend. Weirdest thing? He was gay, I'm a girl.

Next on this shitlist is L. L was actually okay, he was a bit strict with me but he treated me more like a younger sibling. I actually didnt hate him too hard but he ditched me in the middle of my time working there, so I mostly had to deal with the worst fucking supervisor I have EVER had.

While I was at this job, I learned a lot about customers. Most of the times, they were very kind if you were having a shit day. Whether that was because I looked like id kill a bitch, we may never know. So my final supervisor is A. A is a very short woman, very full of anger, and apparently full of hate towards me specifically. I live in a heavily hispanic area, so most of my coworkers could speak spanish. I was really the only one in my area that couldn't, because god I hated learning spanish (languages are not my forte). But, I also was the only white person at my job. Which sounds weird at first- but holy fucking shit. She would constantly make fun of me for being white when our manager wasnt around. Like. "You cant do this because youre white" "Your [medical issue] isnt real, probably a white kid thing yeah?" Like some real weird shit. Im pretty sure she just picked something about me and had at me. I was however very frustrated, and on my final shift I fucking snapped.

She yelled at me in front of maybe 8 customers, pretty soon after covid hit. I just wanted to go home, I was tired, I was already having a shitty day, and I couldn't process what she was telling me to do. She proceeded to scream at me, call me useless, and I'm pretty sure she would have hit me with a pan if we weren't standing in front of a ton of people. Luckily, one of the ladies standing in line went fucking OFF at my food court manager, and told me I was doing great and to sue if I wanted to (honestly could have, I had been called to HR multiple times because they were scared of me sueing for workplace abuse).

Basically: Never working fast food ever again. Supervisors were shitty, but my manager kinda slapped. My co-workers were the same way. Thank you kind lady for protecting me on my final day, I went home and cried.

I actually loved the customers there lol other than that one lady who was convinced I couldn't do math.

[tommybowefuneralattendee]

[ID in alt]

chosen works with knives and swords and no one has used his real name in like ten years and people get creeped out by how little he talks sometimes (speaking is inefficient, there are easier ways to get a point across, autistic king) but augustus always reads him perfectly and fills the silence anyway so working with augustus is so easy. he's just also extraordinarily annoying, and chosen shouldn't need easy anyway, but they end up working together anyway bc it's the best use of both of their time. chosen does up close work while augustus covers him from the wings

augustus works primarily with guns and has Gun Autism in that he can take apart and rebuild any of his weapons cold (the first time chosen saw this he was reluctantly impressed; but after he just gets irritated with all of the other gun toting agents who Can't do what augustus does) and also accuracy is one of his favorite games, so he's one of the best shots in the agency. chosen tells him to shut up on missions sometimes, but he never means it. other people do. he's been doing this too long for his feelings to get hurt by it anymore, but sometimes augustus just wants someone to listen to him talk without hating him for it

brianna is their superior officer; she used to do field work, but it's been a long time and she doesn't like to fuck up her manicure. she never sounds tired when chosen calls her, no matter what time it is. she's the full time handler of both augustus and chosen, so they don't get to choose whether they work with her most the time. occasionally, they'll get another handler but still be working the same mission together and they spend the whole time bonded together about bitching about their substitute handler, which is genuinely what they call them. she's good at her job and efficient and she respects their weirdness without making it weirder. chosen has only met her in person a few times, but they have a rich friendship over the phone. this is not least of all because the three times they've met in person, she's wanted to touch his face (to do his makeup). she and augustus get lunch once a week.

jdb and augustus are honestly friends. most everyone is very disturbed by this. they played magic the gathering together as teens and they are the only people they know of in the agency that knew each other pre-agency. john (really really badly) tried to flirt with brianna once and she tossed him out of a window. it was only the second story so he was fine. they're friends now. augustus only works with jdb for the most part; chosen's location coordinator varies. if you give jdb a set of coordinates he knows a general area of 300 square miles or so around where you're talking about off the top of his head.

billy floridaman only sometimes works with augustus but always works with chosen bc chosen is picky about who handles his knives. augustus is less picky about his guns, and much more adaptive if they're lost or replaced. flirts with jdb constantly and horribly when they're both assigned to a chosen-augustus mission, being as that's typically the only time they spend together professionally. the best part is the jdb does not realize that this man is flirting with him. he thinks billy is just really nice. no one else has this misapprehension. chosen would tell him what's going on because he has no social graces and even he is reading this room, but instead he's studying them like bugs

no one really knows what sarah christ does. a lot of her missions are retrieval, but also someone always ends up dead? directions unclear, dick caught in ceiling fan. she cannot fucking stand augustus. at all. he starts talking and she becomes a rabid wolverine. surprisingly, she does like chosen alright. does she think he's annoying and extra? yes. but is he as annoying and extra as his typical counterpart? god fucking no. sarah typically works alone in the field; brianna is her usual handler as well. john down bad is openly terrified of her. billy tried to come on to her once and she barked at him

augustus and chosen as frequently assigned partners in a spy agency who are both under the impression that brianna (their superior) assigns them to each other out of spite, when really the two of them yelling at each other is miles more productive than when they get assigned to other people

[http-mingi]

room 657. ⤑ jjk + kth ☏︎

⟶ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 : you didn't even realise you were calling a hotline. you're best friend jimin gave you a random number. he said it was a surprise ? well you're in for one.

♡︎ 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 : sexhotline!au, worker!taehyung, worker!jungkook, student!reader

♡︎ 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 : ∝ filthy smut if you squint there’s fluff

♡︎ : 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 : sorry i fr forgot to do the word count !!

⟶ 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 : stressed reader, soft!dom jungkook, harddom!tae , big cock!tae, bigcock!jungkook, size kink??, sub!reader, pussy eating, dirty talk, face riding, hair pulling, fingering, cum eating, praise kinda?? unprotected sex, roughsex, multiple orgasms, heavy heavy dom sub themes, brat!reader , dom/sub themes, pet names, daddy!kink, threesome, dirty talk, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, begging, humiliation, creampie, intense orgasms(?), multiple orgasms, cum eating, insecurities, derogatory language, sexual face-slapping, punishments, dumbification, overstimulation, basically pwp.

let's go!

you sighed heavily as your boots clicked along the laminated floor of your university.

today so far had been a hassle. traffic kept you 2 hours late from school you were earlier fired from your job. your ex boyfriend had recently been stalking you and to top it off there was no hot water this morning.

you were beyond stressed.

most of the time you could deal with it you had thousands of stress relieving techniques. but this time you were all types of frustrated, with school, your job, sexually, friendships, family. you sighed heavily as you dragged yourself inside your classroom.

the bright walls of your university aided in your pounding headache. the distinct smell of coffee and muffins flooded your nose as you blinked slowly.

the tall dark bookcases shielding you from the sunlight as you sluggishly made your way to your seat.

you slumped down on your chair as you massaged your temples in effort to calm your self down. your headache clouded your vision immensely you hastily downed your water and some paracetamol nursing your forehead throughout.

you hadn’t been out on a real date in months. it seemed like the universe didn’t want you on dates, you rarely ever found yourself being okay with that fact.

whilst in a trance your best friend jimin walked excitedly into the classroom.

he constantly and i mean constantly reminded you off the things you were missing out on but it wasn’t like you didn’t want to go out but the issue was you were way too busy.

being an english, law and history major meant that you were constantly studying literally.

you did love him though he always tried for you.

"_____ !! " your friend jimin called out to you. you grumbled in annoyance as you turned your neck towards him.

"what." you sighed out tiredly.

" what the- what's wrong with you ______ ?!" he exclaimed loudly.

" jimin... why are you so loud. " you whine loudly.

“ shut up ___ im literally your only friend.” he said nonchalantly.

“ stopppp!” you whined with a breathy giggle.

“ anyways what are you doing here you have biology?” you asked innocently wiping your exhausted eyes.

“ uhhh... well..”

“ spit it outtt.” you say , head tilting slightly.

" sorry _____ i just- i have a number to give you and i don't call it until you get home! trust me you'll thank me later!!”

0800-765-877

it looked like a legit number so you decided to trust him this one time.

"come on ____ class ended 20 minutes ago wake up." he whined loudly.

" what.....? " you yawned as you groggily wiped your eyes.

jimin let out an exasperated sigh as he dragged you out of class and to your apartment.

" i love you but sometimes i feel like stabbing you. " he says plainly.

" sorry chim, ive just been really stressed lately. i'll make it up to you i promise."

"you can make it up to me by calling that number, it'll solve all your problems i promise."

" jimin... did you connect me to a sugar daddy or something? " you asked as you flopped down onto your sofa

" something like that." he said grinning

" okay well you can go home now . " you muttered yawning

" promise me you'll call them? "

" okay, okay now you can go. "

as jimin left you groaned into your pillow did you have to call them it wasn't really gonna change anything. but at the same time jimin would do the same for you.

your home was simple, minimalistic but you loved it your soft grey sofa in the corner. your small tv playing comfort noise in the background.

you fought your tiredness to finish your essay due for next week. you ached in places you didn't even know you had the most you were aching was down there.

you hadn't had any sexual action in weeks even months.

you decided to go up to your room to try and relive yourself.

you sighed as your hands hovered over the pulsating area.

as a finger trailed it's way up your slit you involuntarily whined as you got tired of the foreplay you plunged a finger inside your soppy cunt.

your plush walls also fighting to relish your much needed orgasm as you groaned into your pillow.

you moaned, whined, groaned and breathed heavily as you desperately tried to reach your high.

you angrily quickened your pace. you were trying so hard yet you still weren't feeling anything.

in a huff you decided to stop trying to reach your endless high.

in the corner of your eye you saw the number jimin had left you.

it wouldn't hurt to call right?

it wasn't gonna be anything weird..... right ?

you took a small breathe as your fingered trembled attempting to type in the numbers.

1 ring

2 rings

3 rings

......

" h-hello? " you whispered out meekly

" hey honey, why don't you speak up for us?" the man on the other end spoke in a deep voice

" im sorry i- i don't know what this- is r-really for?" you spoke slightly louder as you stumbled over your words

"it's a sexhotline darling? "

" i- i well oh...” you huffed out , eyes widening softly you were lost in a trance of thought.

you were suddenly put on hold.

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you gave yourself time to think.

it wouldn’t hurt right?

you were basically an adult, you felt like a teenage girl again.

so you decided.

Putting a client on hold was a part of their fun. It allows the person to wait and to draw out the anticipation. however in this case you were just confused.

you’ve been pacing back and forth inside your bedroom for minutes it was half eleven in the night , and you certainly didn’t think that your attention would be on this instead of your essay.

suddenly you heard another 'hello' erupt from the phone quickly you grabbed your device breathing heavily you gulped and mustered up your voice.

" h- hi i just want you to know that y-you can carry on I've been- struggling and i- need some just some help?" you say whispering the last part.

" you want us to help you cum bun? " another voice said this time it was lighter, kinder in a way.

“don’t make us talk to ourselves, darling.” the other man snarls.

a gasp emits from your dry lips when the tone of his voice turns firm. there was a strict, domineering tinge in his speech that made you sit still. you were too shocked to reply as your mind tried to comprehend the situation that you got yourself into.

“I-I…” you stuttered completely, wanting to smack yourself in the face. the pet names, their voices it was all over whelming you too much.

you let out a needy whine, both of the men groaned quietly into the phone.

" how old are you baby ? " baby. they called you baby.

" i-im 19? "

" fuck, will you be okay with this?" they ask to make sure

jungkook can’t help the soft growl escape his lips. It has been so rare for him to receive callers who aren’t twenty-five and above, and you might be his first time.

“Ohh, baby girl,” he bites his lip, “I think you’re the first client I’ve had who’s so young.” jungkook says to you

“ is that okay , i-im sorry- "

“Oh, its more than okay , baby. You still wanna continue? I can make you feel so…” he pauses, groaning quietly to himself, “so good.”

your pussy clenches around nothing as you felt yourself getting wetter by the second

"  yes daddy. " you say nodding to yourself. you suddenly froze as you realised the contents of your words

taehyung's eyes widen in shock, his mouth agape, certainly not expecting that sudden word to come out of your lips. He throws his head back, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he feels his dick harden.

It was so difficult for him to hold himself back because all he wanted to do was to say the dirtiest, nastiest things that he wants to do to you in your ear. but he had to slow down.

“daddy? Oh, what makes you call me that, hm? baby?”

you feel your throat go dry, your eyes wide in shock. You didn’t know what to respond without being so shocked with yourself.

" i-i just really need you please please please i need it. " you let it all out, you couldn't be bothered to hide it anymore.

“don’t be a brat kitten.“ taehyung snarled into the phone.

“ b-but daddy! please i- i need it so so bad it’s not fair!“ you whined softly as your fingers ghosted your aching, soppy cunt.

they both groaned loudly, as jungkook conversed with taehyung

" kook, fuck i need to do her in real life she's making this so hard for me."

" same here let's just go for it here she's going to make me cum in my pants." he sighed as he palmed himself to your weak whimpers.

" darling, me and tae were wondering if you wanted to do this in real life- we'd fuck you so good honey, you'd become our little cum dump id love to see your body tremble to the force of my cock. " taehyung said interrupting jungkook.

" yes.. please you said as you moaned quietly to their words

" okay bun, we'll text you where to meet us." jungkook breathed out.

the atmosphere was dripping with heavy lust your eyes shut right as you relished their deep gutural voices.

“ i can’t cum daddy please help me cum pleas-“ you begged in frustration

“oh honey, it’s okay sh- sh it’s ok ill help you just be patient okay? you can do that for me right?” jungkook said in a calm tone

" what's your name by the way."

" it's ____." you say meekly

" ____ edge yourself, fuck yourself just do not cum. "

and with that in the call ended

you sighed loudly grinning slightly, you were gonna get your brains done out by two sexy sounding men.

you smiled to yourself giddily as you finally got some sleep.

________________

the next morning you got up and did your daily routine entirely different you waxed everywhere, shaved, exfoliated, moisturised, basically every strawberry flavoured you had in your bathroom.

it was a Saturday, you had time to spare you texted jimin to meet him before you went to meet 'kook' and the other guy.

not to mention you were frustrated beyond belief you had done what they asked you to do and you half hate half love them for it.

on one hand you could cum from any suggestive touch you were given.

on the other hand you couldn't help but want to thank them you felt so ready for them.

you walked to the cafe.

the soft brown walls encompanied the mahogany floors and the cascade of plants across the room as you happily walked into the bustling cafe.

" what's got you so excited." he said grinning like the Cheshire cat

" uh nothing i just had some good sleep last night. " a lie.

" oh really? "

" yeah i even finished my essay!" not true but not false at the same time.

" wow! " jimin looked at you shocked

" jimin do you really have that little faith in me. " you say annoyed

" to be honest no. " he said chuckling

" jiminnn, well i have to be going now i have an appointment soon. " you explain pouting

" an appointment where? "

" somewhere special ? " you say in attempt to hide

" if you say so. " he uttered playfully and he watches you walk away

you stared at the building in front of you as you checked the address again and again it was a massive condo.

you rang the bell of the apartment square and dialled in the number seconds later you were buzzed in.

you took the elevator and anxiously played with your fingers you finally reached the floor you were headed to and walked into room 657 .

" h-hello i-im here it's ______ " you say confused you really made a large mistake.

suddenly turning around, you were pulled into a sloppy kiss. You immediately relaxed into it, wrapping your arms around his neck the deeper it went. Before it could go on too long, he pulled away.

Pressed between both of their bodies, you could help the way your body reacted. Your lips met Taehyung's again and you whimpered.

Jungkook took the opportunity to press his lips against your neck, skimming them over the collar now around your neck.

He hands gripped your waist, pulling your shirt up ever so slightly to touch the skin that became exposed.

Goosebumps across your skin and you gasped into Taehyung's mouth. The elder chuckled, reaching down to where Jungkook's deft fingers explored to tug up the hem of your shirt.

you gasped loudly as you tensed under their touch.

Already, you could feel your mind turning fuzzy, falling into your submissive roll to let them mold you how they wanted.

Jungkook chuckled as you lifted your arms, allowing Taehyung to pull your shirt off. Left in your bra, you couldn't help but cover your chest as vulnerability set in.

"None of that, bun," Jungkook growled softly, ripping your arms away from your chest. "You wanna be a good girl for us right? Let us take care of you?"

"Y-Yes..." You whined, whining when Taehyung leaned down pressing kisses against your chest above the seam of your bra. Gasping, you pushed your chest out to get more of the feeling.

"What a good girl," Taehyung cooed, falling to his knees in front of you.

You leaned back, using Jungkook as support to help Taehyung pull your jeans off completely. He tossed them away in a heap nearby and without wasting a second, his mouth was on your core.

The fabric of your panties put on the side, feeling his mouth on you fully but as he slid his tongue over your slit and caught your clit, you let out a soft moan.

"What a good kitten for us," Jungkook groaned, hands still cupping your breasts. He pinched your nipples, making your back arch as you cried out.

“Is that pretty pussy wet, Princess? Does your cunt ache to be filled by my cock?” jungkook coaxes

The filth of his words doesn’t surprise you, Under his teasing words, you feel yourself grow wet, your lust-filled desire mingling with the humiliation that flutters through you.

"Aw, your pussy that sensitive, baby?" Taehyung cooed pressing his middle finger to glide directly over the patch where your clit was, making your hips curve inwards as the intensity was blare enough to startle you.

He chuckled deeply at that, kind of sounding like a purr and just when you didn't think he could fuck with your sanity anymore than he was already doing, he turned his head to the side and lapped his wet muscle along your jugular vein before enclosing his lips area the area for harsh suck.

you moaned loudly as you arched your back against jungkook. taehyung put one leg over his shoulder to go deeper.

"Daddy!" You cried as his tongue slid through your folds. He moaned at the unimpeded taste of your cunt. Circling your entrance, he eagerly tasted everything you had to offer.

" don't take it all tae, shit she looks hot." jungkook groaned into your neck, biting licking and sucking against your sweet spot.

you whined as you trembled against the two men. you felt hot.

"Fuck!" You shrieked, spasming when he gave you a slap against your sodden folds . " I��!"

" be careful girl." jungkook growled into your ear

you moaned apologies left right and centre as he continued to abuse your aching clit.

suddenly you were harshly pulled away from taehyung's hot wet muscle and pushed into the soft plush bed.

you whined in protest at your denied orgasm.

" now, you're going to choose. me or tae." jungkook questioned sadistically

" i...i can't choose that i okay um jungkook?" you said in a small voice.

" good decision honey, now lie back let me take care of you." he cooed kindly

taehyung scoffed as he sat back

you were more than happy like this, but when you shifted your hips to grind your centre against his, you both groaned open-mouthed into the kiss.

You could feel that he was already hard in his boxers. Knowing that his willing cock was so close to your needy core erased your mind of any thoughts that weren't of him.

When you dragged your clit against him again you keened, the pleasure incredible despite the barriers between you.

he felt so big as you continued your actions

suddenly you felt his large and literally massive cock push into your plush soppy cunt.

you moaned loudly as jungkook groaned.

taehyung smirked as he shook his head.

" get moving i wanna see her squirt."

jungkook rocked back and forth at a steady pace it was amazing don't get me wrong but you wanted more you needed more.

"more! more please harder jungkook please! " you begged.

" princess, don't beg for things you can't keep up with." he chuckled

there was an animalistic gaze in his eye as he started plunging into your pussy, taehyung mouth open jerking himself off at the sight, your open lie open as he ground his fat cock into you.

you felt hot and euphoric and couldn't help but let moans continuously fall out of your mouth.

suddenly you felt a harsh slap on your face. you felt tears well up in your eyes.

Without warning, his cock was rammed inside you. Raw and hard with the way your pussy was soaking wet from your denied orgasm , he began to relentlessly fuck into you.

tears began spilling out of your eyes continuously and your moans became pornographic.

as if he couldn't go any faster he began to drill inside you, your body shook in ecstasy as his fat cock was pistoned into you.

you felt your high approaching, you panicked and begged for them to let you come.

" please! please let me cum ! ill be good , ill be a good girl ! " you cried out towards them

jungkook craned himself to be face to face with you, as he stared at you with his dark and lustful. his wet lips capture yours into a sloppy kiss .

he forced your mouth open and let his tongue glide upon yours. he sucked on the wet muscle softly as you cried out.

everything felt so good, too good.

you came 3 times alone with jungkook and felt overstimulated beyond belief.

" now it's my turn . " taehyung dead panned

" w-what i can't take anymore ill just su- "

" i said. it's my turn. " he uttered in a harsh tone

you wailed in frustration as your body writhed in defeat .

" you're gonna take it . that's what you asked for . " he spat at you.

observing the way your eyes darken, turning neediness, and the way your chest heaves in short breaths, Taehyung’s jaw flexes.

He pressed the tip against your hole, seeing you tense up almost immediately. taehyung rubbed the end of his cock along your wet cunt before sinking himself into you.

" d-daddy ple- ! " you body spasmed against the head board as taehyung suddenly slammed his body into you continuously.

“ you’re such an eager little whore, aren’t you?” he purrs, condescension laced in his tone.

you tightly held onto the relentless man as you felt your high approaching once more.

taehyung’s thrusts became sloppy as he grunted against your neck.

you felt your body swirl and turn around you and you finally came.

hours later

you groggily woke up as you felt your body give out into the bed.

“ hel- hello? ” you said wearily

“ hi princess.” taehyung smirked

“ round 5?” jungkook asked

you sighed as you submitted to them in their bed

here we go again.

5 missed calls from jimin

[ohheyitsokay]

opening weekend

part 1 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 1.9k

warnings: none (yet)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! That no one but me and @beautyagegoodnesssize asked for but I’m telling you... just give it a try. Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, the groundwork for the series is laid: Frankie is a catcher, and your grandpa is the biggest fan of his team.

>>

It was a beautiful day for a baseball game.

The sun was warm on the back of you neck and it was the bottom of the fourth. It was loud with chatter and announcements, music and cheers, and there were flashing advertisements and seas of merchandise – a typical opening weekend. If you were being honest, it wasn’t really your thing. Or it was, but it shouldn’t have been.

The man beside you was beaming with absolute joy, barely sitting as he leaned forward eagerly as if hoping desperately that it would bring him onto the field with the players.

It was always like this, every few weeks, every summer for years. His name was James, and years and years ago you’d grown close and he’d shared the single constant in his life: the game, and his team. It became your way to stay close, throughout all the chaos of the world, you always made time to make it to as many home games as you could to sit by his side and hear his stories and soak up the wonder in his eyes as he watched the ball and the bats and the sun on the grass. Season passes were his gift to you every year, and today was more exciting than normal, because it was finally time to pay him back.

He loved this team. Of course, it was constantly changing, but for such an old man, he could remember all their names and numbers and statistics. He collected the cards and loved the boys so much it was almost like they were his grandkids.

“No autographs,” he would tell you. “They’re already giving us their best, who are we to ask for more?” and you would melt a little, inside. He was careful not to idolize them, clicking his tongue when bad headlines would come out, constantly reminding you they were just humans, “Just boys! Leave them alone! They’re figuring it out,” he’d say, angrily. It made you laugh, how much he cared about them, and it warmed you heart.

“You want some nachos, Jimbo?”you asked, standing as the ads played and the mascots ran out into the field for extra entertainment. “They’ve got some picked jalapeños with your name on ‘em.” He squinted up at you and you shifted, blocking the sun from his sweet, wrinkled face. A nod and a smile was all you needed before you caught his hand, reminding him to let you pay. You shuffled towards the steps, trying to avoid the drinks and snacks and knees of the people in your row, whispering excuse me’s and apologies. Once you made it to the outsides of the arena, you ducked behind one of the looking pillars, checking your phone before making your way to the quieter, less commercialized area. A security guard checked your phone and ID, and you were ushered into a large office, show awards and photos and expensive amenities filling it to the brim. A man was leaning against a impossibly giant desk, an air of hurry about him, and he shook your hand.

After hasty introductions, you jogged his memory, reminding him that you had submitted an application and been chosen by the board to have your grandfather honored by the team, and today was the day.

He nodded absentmindedly and began to wave you off, ears listening to other words, you were sure. They assured you a team of security would come and escort him to the meeting area when it was time and you said quick thank-you's before stopping.

“Sir, one last thing,” you stood your ground against the rush, determined to be heard. “He’s not just a crazy fan, he’s a sweet old man. I know this is routine for you guys but…” finally, the man in the suit met your eyes. “Please remember how special this is to him.” And he nodded, a swallow pushing down his throat, making his Adam’s apple bob. You didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but this was important to you.

As you walked back, you got the biggest tray of nachos you could find, and tried not to trip over your own shoes.

It was a beautiful day.

-

Frankie was hot and sweaty and tired and having a great time. It was the first real game of the season and he hadn’t gotten sick of the noise… Just yet. People were cheering, spirits were high, and for now, Santi was pitching right into his glove.

Just outside the dugout, he and the others paused, hearing the announcer powering up for something unique. Normally, they tuned it all out, but for these, it was basically required that they pay attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today with us we have a very special –” he blared, but it faded to the background. Francisco had been told, with everyone this morning, that the board had chosen a submission of a dedicated fan to honor, someone they’d all have to say hello to, but he hadn’t expected… this.

All over the screens around him and front and center of the megatron was a shocked but beaming elderly man. He wasn’t screaming, or decked head to toe in merch, just smiling, with a tshirt design Frankie barely recognized from years and years ago. It had been washed enough times the team’s logo was barely visible, and that alone was awesome. More importantly, he was tugging at the hand of the most beautiful woman Frankie had maybe ever seen.

Of course, he’d seen lots of beautiful people, it was one of the stranger side effects of his job, but you… were something else. Maybe it was the joy on your face as you nodded, eyes fixed on your grandfather, maybe it was the way the sunlight was hitting your hair just right either way, his heart did a little flip in his chest, and on his shoulders the padding felt suddenly light. He was at loathe to put on his helmet, knowing the face cage would obstruct his view of you, but then you were gone, the ads replacing your face, and one of his friends was giving him a shove towards his corner.

It wasn’t until a ball was mere feet from his face that he remembered he was supposed to be catching it.

Catch, catch, walk, sit, swing, hit, run, walk, sit. Repeat.

And then in a daze, he was making his way to the locker room, with a crowd of trudging cleats and sweaty scents, the roar of the crowds behind him.

Claps on shoulders, showers, and banter passed, and they all filed like sheep into a big, open room. The energy was different, though, less strained than it might have been, if it were an obsessive teenager, or an arrogant know it all.

Frankie’s ear pricked when he heard one of his teammates say, “Hope that girl comes along, she was hot,” all jokes and winks and maybe a crude hand motion or two. There was a twist in his gut, which was absolutely ridiculous, but he didn’t have time to ponder it, because suddenly the door was opening again and there you were.

The main event, of course, was the kindly man at your side, and Frankie tried to seem natural and he strained to see around his friends.

The news reporter was chattering, and he was vaguely aware that everyone was watching the manager give his speech – everyone but him and you. He watched, transfixed, as you tenderly tucked your abuelo's hand into your elbow.

Frankie was busy thinking he’d never quite felt so comfortable in this room before, never seen someone who made him wish he was at the front of the crowd, when your eyes were suddenly in his.

You gave him a half-smile and your fingers wiggled in the tiniest of waves.

It was just for him, not everyone else, and Frankie gulped, too pleased and too shocked to react properly.

When it was his turn to talk to the pair of you, Frankie felt more nervous than he had this morning, walking onto the field. He didn’t even know your name – something he begrudged the staff – and yet he was somehow aching to make a good impression, on you both. But then your abuelito stole his hat and ruffled his hair and he was grinning, and it was a beautiful day.

When he walked back to the lockers, he was pretty sure his heart stayed right in that room, somewhere next to a beaming little old man.

-

The two of you went separate ways but not at all the same as you’d been that morning.

Frankie ducked out of the after party at Tom's bnb. The boys were rambunctious and loud and more importantly they kept talking about you and he just didn’t want to hear any of it.

The memory of the little wave of your hand was burrowing into his chest, into his stomach, feeding him like food after a long, hot summer day.

Santiago’s footsteps were familiar, even off the sand and the grass of the field. His hand was warm on Frankie’s shoulder, pulling him slowly back to reality.

“Everything okay, hermano?” His voice was equal parts genuine and teasing.

Frankie shrugged. What could he say? He didn’t even know your name, and even if he did, so what? It's not like his mind had already created a scenario in which he'd chased after you in the long, curved corridors and you had beamed, happy to see him, and touched his hand with yours.

It’s not like he was kicking himself for letting you walk out the door without trying, anything. Not like he hated hearing the other guys joke about how innocent and sweet you looked. He certainly couldn’t explain how possessive he felt over a girl he’d only sort of met.

So he ignored the thump in his chest and just looked a the stars and shrugged.

As for you, James was seated next to you, trying to start sentences and getting overwhelmed with joy. Your hands slid over the steering wheel, listening to him as much as you could, filling in the ends, mind still on the handsome player who’s eyes  had followed you through from over the sea shoulders and hats.

“What’s on your mind, honey?” he asked, pulling you back to reality.

You hummed noncommittally in response. Lying to him was absolutely out of the question so you pondered your options, while he watched you, amused.

“What’s the name of the catcher?” you asked, finally, feeling heat in your face as you remembers his broad shoulders and the twitch in his hands.

His laugh was adorable and mischievous and you felt almost silly. You weren’t a little girl watching t-ball, after all, that was a real, actual man.

A real man with dark, deep eyes, and tan skin and fluffy curls.

You shook your head.

“Never… mind.” He was also undoubtedly also a man with a life and a girlfriend or wife, and no lingering thoughts of you.

James laughed again and dropped the subject.

But you walked him into his home and he grasped your hand with newfound determination. He winked and whispered and you felt a thump in your chest.

“Francisco Morales.”

>>

translations:

abluelo: grandfather

abuelito: literally, little grandfather, it’s affectionate 

hermano: brother

>>

taglist: @fangirl-316 @scribbledghost

[alirhi]

okay. let's do this shit.

Guess what, bitches? Mama bear's back and angry all over again. Remember when I said I might dive into a ragepost about how Bucky's treated after completing the one about Loki? This is it. This is the post. Welcome to fucking Thunderdome.

I will actually try to keep it civil. No promises, but I'll try. and I will not be accepting "constructive criticism" about my rage. Just so we're clear.

Got it? Good. Let's dive in.

In case you don't want to read the whole thing (I know I get wordy) here's what this whole post will boil down to: BUCKY NEVER HAD A FUCKING CHOICE. NEVER. NOT ONCE IN HIS ENTIRE ADULT LIFE.

Now, quick reminder: I don't read comics. I know nothing about Bucky's comic canon, except what Sebastian liked to bring up as often as possible during TWS/CW promotions: at some point, Bucky boned Nat. XD Since Bucky only exists as a Marvel property, I won't be bitching about other source material being disrespected like I did with Loki. This is all MCU, my dudes. And honestly? That's enough, because though we don't see nearly enough of Bucky for my liking, we do manage to get a rich, deep backstory to him in the material we're given, partly thanks to better writing in the early days of the MCU, and partly thanks to Sebastian Stan's phenomenal acting. Unlike the writers of the Loki series, Seb knows how to show, not tell. And gods, what stories those eyes show...

Let's start with the army. In an old post illustrating what an absolute BAMF Bucky Barnes truly is, I mistakenly said he enlisted, and a kind soul educated me on the incredible attention to detail Marvel used to pay - in this case, Bucky's ID number. 32557038. As this kind, eagle-eyed soul pointed out to me, the first two digits of that number - 32 - signify that Bucky was drafted, specifically from the NY, NJ, DE area (that last part is rather obvious, as Bucky and Steve are from Brooklyn lol). Bucky didn't choose to go to war. He was drafted. He was forced to fight, or go to prison.

Bucky was born in 1917, which means - again, as someone pointed out to me a while back - he came of age during the Great Depression. As a child, he would likely have seen his parents living comfortably and able to shower each other and him and his sister with gifts and fun memories, and then POOF. Stock market crashes when he's only 12-years-old, and life becomes brutal and painful. He manages to have some fun with his best friend Steve, and spends his teens/early 20s chasing girls and keeping his stupid, stubborn, tiny friend from getting beaten to death.

Steve constantly has something to prove. He's absolutely got what my mom always called "little man's disease", and Bucky's just doing his best not to roll his eyes too much at this asthmatic chihuahua constantly trying to beat up Tibetan mastiffs. While Steve keeps lying on his enlistment forms (an actual crime) trying again and again to get into the army and prove what a badass he is (definitely not), Bucky's had enough trauma and upheaval in his life and he just wants his stupid friend to calm tf down and live. Enjoy the fact that he doesn't have to go to war and get his limbs blown off.

And then he gets fucking drafted. This sweet, resigned realist who knows exactly how dangerous the war really is, is forced to put on a uniform and go fight strangers alongside other strangers thousands of miles from everything he knows. And on his last night of freedom, when he just wants to hang out with his friend, see some cool gadgets, and dance with a pretty girl, his stupid angry chihuahua friend feels the need to lie and try to enlist again.

Okay. Gotta get back on track. Ragepost about mistreatment of Bucky, not how much Steve annoys me. Sorry. Anyway...

Bucky's drafted, accepts his shitty lot with a brave smile, and is shipped off to Europe, where he is captured by HYDRA and presumed by the Allies to be KIA. Instead, he's strapped down, tortured, and given the HYDRA version of the super serum against his will. Steve rescues him, and Bucky knows he can't leave his idiot friend to his own devices to get his head blown off, so he dives right back into the fray. And then he falls off a cliff, loses most of his left arm, and is declared dead...again. This one's pretty damn valid, though lol. Without the serum no one knew he'd been shot up with, there is no way he would have survived that fall.

Here is where Bucky's story gets truly heartbreaking: His autonomy, his ability to consent is stripped from him through electroshock torture/brainwashing. The trigger words are conditioned into him during this process, and boom. Ten words in Russian, and Bucky Barnes is gone. Even the confused, hurting shadow of him is gone, leaving only a perfectly obedient killing machine, with Bucky's pretty face. He's strong as all hell, though, so they can't keep him fully under their control for long, not without more torture, when the disorientation of being fucking frozen wears off on longer missions.

I cannot stress this point enough, guys: Bucky. Had. No. Choice. Not like the draft, where his choices (go and get shot at, refuse and go to jail, or dodge and run to Canada) just suck. No, he literally didn't have a choice. He had his ability to choose stripped from him. If that's too complex a concept to really sink in, try this: His brain was fucking raped. Repeatedly. For decades. Nothing the Winter Soldier ever did was Bucky's fault. Nothing. Ever. Not remotely, no matter how you fucking slice it. Bucky is not an assassin. I almost said "not a killer", but he was a soldier, and a sharpshooter. He definitely killed when he was himself, but that was in a war, not a series of assassinations.

So far, imo, so good. This is just a rundown of Bucky's pre-show backstory. I don't love what he had to suffer, but I do love how it was treated in the movies. People were afraid of him, but when they knew the whole situation, Steve, Nat, and Sam rallied behind him. Natasha had plenty of reason to want the Winter Soldier dead; he'd tried to kill her multiple times and almost succeeded. Sam had no reason to help Bucky at all; he didn't know him, didn't trust him, and again, TWS had tried to kill him. But he stood by Steve, and when Bucky showed the clear difference between himself and TWS, Sam stood by him, too, and fought alongside him.

And it's very realistic, imo, that Tony didn't give a single fuck that Bucky had no choice. He watched this man murder both of his parents on tape. If TWS had killed my dad and I saw proof of it, I'd try to kill Bucky, too. Grief wins out over logic. Most emotions usually do. And that's a very important point we're going to come back to in a few minutes.

Bucky was really only in like ten minutes at most of IW and Endgame, and for multiple reasons I hate those movies, so I'm just gonna skip them, kay? Kay. On to the main event!

Here's where I get pissed off. Even if I didn't have an unhealthy attachment to this character, or the depth of appreciation for his tragic backstory that I do, the lack of continuity between the movies and the show alone would still piss me off. It always does. Don't even get me started on Joss "Continuity? What continuity?" Whedon and his (iconic, but flawed) shows. Ahem. Back on track...

Let me just get one little thing out of the way real quick: I fucking LOVE The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I love it. This show amazed me when I first watched it, and I still love it after many more viewings lol. I have only ever watched it all the way through without skipping over as much John Walker shit as possible the one time lol but I love how Sam and Bucky interact, and I fucking adore how Sam's arc was treated. I just wish they'd show the same care and attention to Bucky.

Because what they did to Bucky in this show is a fucking travesty. There was a tiny ray of hope in the pilot, when he called out Dr. Bitchface for being a terrible shrink. I thought that would be the start of him realizing he needed to find someone else and ignore the damaging shit that woman was telling him. But...nope. No such luck.

The show really had a strong start, I'll give it that. We see Bucky having nightmares of his time as TWS and struggling to hide how his traumatic memories are affecting him as he tries to live in the world again. He befriends the father of one of HYDRA's victims, which can't be good for Bucky (and we're shown it's definitely not when he sees the shrine in Yori's home to his late son) but it's sweet, how he's trying to connect and reach out to someone who's hurting and lonely.

They drop the ball a little with the whole... Bucky can hack a fucking car, but can't figure out Tinder thing. Had they just run with the fandom interpretation of the tiger photos line, that it shows that Bucky is bi and left it at that, I'd have been okay with it (and no, that is not because I ship Sam/Bucky. it's because Bucky is and always has been a certified nerd who loves technology and has consistently shown very little issue learning to use new gadgets). The outdated flip phone he handed his terrible court-mandated shrink was a burner; I liked that theory when I read it, especially since it's the only time we see him even holding a phone that old lol. This all could have fit the "Bucky is a sassy bisexual nerd" narrative and it'd be okay. Instead, the director was like "NOOOOOO that line was just to show how old he is and how he can't figure out all this newfangled technology!" Woman, you had him remotely driving someone else's vehicle with a tablet. That is NOT a man who can't figure out a damn smart phone!

But that's just a minor annoyance. What fills me with absolute rage is how everyone - not just the shitty therapist who lashes out at and purposely triggers her traumatized patients, but EVERYONE - Sam, Zemo, people who should fucking know better ALL treat him like he's a psychopath and a ticking time bomb. Like he chose to take the serum and he chose to kill for HYDRA, and he's just seen the error of his ways. *barf*

Bucky in the movies is established to be a victim, through and through. His guilt over what he was forced to do is natural, and that he sees himself as a monster makes sense... but that doesn't mean it's correct. The one and only thing I ever liked about Steve Rogers is at least he got it. He pointed out that none of it was Bucky's fault, he tried to show him that he was worth saving. That's the other reason I refuse to talk about Endgame. This post will get a WHOLE LOT LONGER and a lot fucking angrier if I open that door.

Zemo supposedly knows everything about HYDRA and super soldiers... So why does he treat Bucky like he's a corrupt serial killer? (this, for the record, is why I don't like Zemo) Why does he never point out that Bucky was given the serum against his will, or that his actions, when he had control of them, proved that he was never corrupted? Bucky never wanted to become superhuman. Bucky didn't even want to fucking fight!

Sam, despite constantly resisting the label, is shown very clearly to be Bucky's friend. By episode 3, he cares. He worries about how Bucky is getting lumped in with the other super soldiers in Zemo's speech... But he never really defends him. He says "what about Bucky?" but he doesn't point out that Bucky's a good man, he's fought so hard to help people, he does everything he can to avoid killing... And that fucking speech in episode 5. I was with him on "you gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are." I was like "YEAH! Tell him, Sam! Bucky, you're WORTH SAVING, boo! Your value does not hinge on someone else's opinion of you!" And then... Sam dropped the ball.

He not only continued the disturbing pattern of victim-blaming in this show, and in Marvel/Disney properties in general, but he gave really dangerously bad advice! No one in their right mind, mental health professional or no, would EVER tell a traumatized former assassin (whether he was responsible for his actions or not) to go confront his victims' families out of the blue with no warning and no one to mediate and keep things from going to shit. Yori already knew his son had been murdered because he was in the "wrong place, wrong time." How is it being "of service" to tell him you're the one who killed him?! Remember how I said Tony's reaction to learning the full truth about his parents' deaths was valid and would be an important point later? Hi! Welcome to later. THAT is the natural reaction to facing the man who murdered your loved one(s). And even if Yori didn't get angry and lash out, HOW IS IT "HELPING" HIM OR BRINGING HIM "CLOSURE" TO KNOW THAT HIS FRIEND KILLED HIS FUCKING SON?!?!?! This man befriended him, bonded with him, watched him grieve... And now he's learning this is the man who caused all his pain and heartache to begin with? That is so toxic and psycho I just... I can't even... UGH.

And then there's the equally toxic and damaging "deeply traumatized person just needed a stern talking to and a hug to be ALL BETTER AGAIN" ending. I loved seeing Bucky happy and socializing, but it was too soon, and it was unearned. And it sends a fucking awful message to people actually struggling with PTSD, and to their loved ones who don't know how to help them. Heaping more blame on them and then hugging it out is NOT helpful!

This show could have been damn near perfect with just two changes. That's all. Just two. 1) Someone, anyone, bringing up the reasons why Bucky was never a villain in his presence. Someone being in his corner and reminding him, like Steve did, that it wasn't his fault and he's not going to "snap". 2) More time devoted to Bucky's healing. Actual fucking healing, not the shit they tried to pass off as a magic fix-all. He can have his happy barbecue moment, just don't frame it as "everything's great now!" Healing isn't linear, and there will be both good days and bad. Some of the most fragile people in the world have the brightest smiles.

If we get a season 2, which this amazing show absolutely deserves, and they address this stuff, all will be forgiven in my book. Expanding on his story and his journey toward healing will help to reframe that "happily ever after" garbage as something more realistic. But as it stands now... Fuck Marvel.

[fics-n-stuff]

Secondhand Sofa

Pairing: Willie x Alex

Summary: Alex and Willie need to buy a sofa for their new apartment, domesticity insues. (Alive AU)

Word Count: 1097

A/N: There is nothing that actually connects them, so you don't have to read it, but I wrote this in the same universe as my previous Willex fic Really, Really. It's like a few years in the future from that.

Alex felt like he was dreaming watching Willie dance around the kitchen, but he couldn’t be because he had just woken up not five minutes earlier. Therefore, it had to be real that he and his boyfriend had moved into an apartment together, and said boyfriend was currently the cutest thing on the planet while they made breakfast.

“Morning.” Alex said softly, a fond smile on his face. Willie spun around to look at him, a grin spreading across their lips at the sight of the sleepy blonde. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes.” Willie chirped, turning back to the pan. “How’d you sleep?”

Alex hadn’t expected to sleep well that night, it being their first night in the new apartment. Technically they had started moving in almost a week ago, but they had only gotten a bed yesterday and still didn’t have a sofa. But, to his surprise, he had gotten a full night of sound sleep and he was pretty sure it was because he’d had Willie sleeping beside him.

“Pretty good actually.” He answered, coming up behind his boyfriend to watch the pancake making process over their shoulder. Completely predictably, both the countertop and the stove were a mess. “I am not helping you clean this up.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Willie chuckled. They reached back to grab Alex’s arms and quickly wrapped them around their own body, smiling when he tightened his hold and rested his chin on their shoulder.

The two of them stood there silently while Willie finished making the last few pancakes, and then Alex grabbed some toppings and plates and they moved through to the living room. The area was sparse – they didn’t actually have any furniture to sit on – but they did have an old table that Ray had gifted them and a slightly ugly rug that Alex had stolen from his parents' attic. They had ordered a TV that should have arrived already but seemed to be delayed in it’s delivery.

“There’s a pretty good sofa at the second-hand store a couple blocks away, if we buy it before noon they’ll deliver same day.” Willie said as they sat down on the rug. “Before you ask, it’s not an ugly pattern and there are no mysterious stains.”

“That sounds pretty good. Is it yellow, orange or green?”

“No.”

“Can we afford it?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go after breakfast.” Alex smiled, making Willie giggle and they leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “You have to clean the kitchen first.”

“Ugh, why’d you have to ruin it?” They sighed.

“Because you have a habit of making messes and I need to get into the habit of making you clean them up.” Alex answered. “If I don’t start enforcing the rules early then you’ll never listen to me.”

The two of them finished their breakfast, chatting and joking while they ate, and then Alex relented to washing the dishes while Willie cleaned the kitchen surfaces. He really struggled saying no to Willie.

The walk to the second-hand store wasn’t very long, and when they arrived Willie pointed out the sofa through the window before they went in. It was a plain grey, fabric three-seater without any stains, just as Willie had said.

“You know, I didn’t expect it to actually be so alright.” Alex teased, earning himself a light punch on the shoulder from his boyfriend.

“Come on, let’s go pay for it.” They smirked, pulling Alex into the store by their joined hands.

Not only did they get the sofa, but they also came away with a couple of blue tie dye beanbags; Willie’s eyes had lit up when they saw them and Alex didn’t have the heart to say no. The sofa was set to be delivered that afternoon but they carried the beanbags home on their backs, earning a few amused glances from the people that they passed.

“Now we’ll have space for guests!” Willie beamed, dropping their beanbag onto the living room floor. “See, perfect!”

“Yeah, perfect.” Alex smiled fondly, setting his down too. “Two steps closer to having a fully furnished apartment. We have about three hours until the sofa is delivered, what do you want to do?”

“Cookies, cupcakes or brownies?” Willie’s eyes shone so brightly with excitement that Alex almost didn’t think about the mess that they would make baking. “Please?”

“Willie, I love you, but I cannot deal with you constantly making messes in the kitchen; the kitchen that I also have to use.”

“Yeah, and that means you can make the mess with me.” Alex wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Willie look so mischievous, which was saying something. He pursed his lips, trying so hard to resist giving in to his adorable boyfriend. But, alas, he was a weak man.

“Okay, fine, let’s make brownies.” He sighed, and Willie’s smile widened.

“I love you.” They cooed, grabbing Alex’s hand and dragging him through to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but feel that the words were some type of precursory apology for the mess that was about to be made.

+ + +

“I hate you.” Alex huffed, looking at the mess of flour and chocolate around him. “I love you, but I hate you.”

“You helped me make it so you gotta help me clean it.” Willie grinned teasingly. They had somehow managed to get brownie mix smeared across their cheek, and Alex couldn’t help but move his hand up to wipe it away.

“You tricked me. It was entrapment.”

“No, it was baking with your very pretty boyfriend.”

“The prettiest.” Alex smiled, placing a light kiss on the tip of Willie’s nose. Just then, his phone started ringing where he’d left it in the living room. “Start cleaning.”

“You got it, hotdog.” They chuckled, and Alex scoffed as he went to answer the phone.

The caller ID said it was Julie, but when he picked up he heard Luke talking to somebody else – probably Reggie - on the other end.

“What do you want?” He asked, in lieu of a greeting.

“Do you guys have furniture yet? We’re still waiting for a housewarming party.” Luke said, and Alex could just picture the smirk on his face.

“Who said we were gonna have a housewarming party?”

“Bro, Willie definitely wants to have a housewarming party.”

“And so do all of us!” Reggie called from the background.

“So, do you have furniture yet?” Luke questioned again. Alex let the silence drag out for a moment before he sighed loudly.

“Our sofa arrives in an hour and a half. We still don’t have a TV but if you wanna come then tonight works.” He answered flatly.

“Awsome!” Luke cheered. “See you tonight.”

“We’ll bring takeout!” Julie managed to yell before Alex hung up. He rolled his eyes, stuffing his phone into his pocket and going back to the kitchen.

“What time should we expect them?” Willie asked with an amused smile, wiping down the counter.

“I have no clue.” Alex shrugged. “But we don’t have to cook dinner.”

The two of them finished cleaning the kitchen while they waited for the brownies. It was so utterly domestic, and Alex couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face the entire time. Once the brownies were out of the oven they settled on the beanbags with Willie’s laptop to watch some Netflix while they waited for the sofa to be delivered.

The delivery guys were nice when they arrived, getting the sofa into the apartment and not complaining that the building’s elevator was broken and they had to carry it up five narrow flights of stairs. Now, finally, they had an almost fully functional living room. And to top it all off, the sofa not only looked good in the space but it was also comfortable.

“This place is really starting to feel like a home.” Alex said, taking a moment to stand back and take in the room.

“It’s always gonna feel like a home as long as we’re here together.” Willie replied sweetly, grabbing his hand and dragging him with them to sit on the sofa. “I definitely think we could use a few plants though.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say such sentimental things and then immediately follow them up with a throwaway comment.” Alex explained. He'd never brought it up before but it was something that Willie had been doing a lot for quite a while, and it made Alex’s chest feel funny. He wasn’t particularly good at verbalising heartfelt sentiments – it had taken him a while to even get comfortable with saying “I love you" – but Willie didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

“Because I love you.” They shrugged in answer. “And I love you all the time, even during the most mundane moments. Sometimes I love you and it’s a really big deal and it’s a special moment, but sometimes I love you during super casual moments like getting our sofa delivered.” Alex just stared at them, his brain struggling to process what Willie had said beyond how fuzzy it made him feel.

“Okay.” He mumbled after an unnecessarily long pause, not knowing how else to respond. Willie giggled, adjusting the laptop on the table and hitting play before curling into Alex’s side.

“You could say it back.”

“Oh, I love you too.”

“I know.” They grinned.

They sat together on their freshly delivered sofa for hours, watching Netflix and chatting about random things. Their apartment was turning out to be actually quite cosy. They’d been sitting in silence for a while when all of a sudden Willie spoke up.

“You know what we need to buy?” They asked.

“A set of shelves for all of our miscellaneous stuff and more storage for our ridiculous collection of socks?” Alex suggested, practical as always.

“Well, yeah, but not what I was thinking.”

“Of course not.” Alex chuckled. “What were you thinking?”

“We need fluffy blankets.” Willie smiled excitedly. “And pillows to put on the couch.”

“Why?”

“So that, when our TV arrives, we can have movie nights on the couch and be all warm and comfy.”

“Hm, maybe that’s a good idea.” Alex smiled. He pushed a piece of hair away from their face and tucked it behind their ear, leaning in.

“Yeah, I think so.” Willie replied softly.

They were both smiling, faces only centimetres apart, when they were interrupted by very loud knocking at their door.

“FBI, open up!” They heard Flynn call from the other side. Alex groaned.

“Our idiots are here.” He said flatly. “What incredible timing.”

“We’ll have plenty of time another day. Go answer it, before we get complaints.” Willie replied as the knocking persisted. They pressed a very quick kiss to Alex’s lips before pushing him off of the sofa towards the door.

“Stop knocking, I’m coming!” He yelled, then lowered his voice to a bitter mutter, “I swear to God, this better not become a regular thing.” Willie laughed, and the sound warmed Alex’s heart.

He finally had his own space away from his parents and he shared it with the most perfect boyfriend he could have ever imagined having. He reveled in the feeling for a second before he opened the front door and his rowdy friends destroyed the quiet domestic moment. But that was okay, because this was his family and, although he acted like he was mad, Alex wouldn’t want it any other way.

[caffeinated-cryptid]

you got an ego so big (it'll eat you alive).

roman-centric hurt/comfort (w/ remus, patton and virgil). 

11.7k words | AO3 link | warnings: self-hatred, semi-intentional self-destruction, various injuries, arguing, remus-typical jokes and topics.

“At the best of times, Roman’s job was a tightrope act between maintaining a healthy amount of self-confidence and the ability to adapt and take criticism. Throughout his life he walks this line many times, always with the expectation that if he were to fall one way or the other, no one would be there to catch him.

But sometimes when you’re up miles high, it can become difficult to see the safety net on the ground below you.

(aka an expansion on the premise that a bruised ego causes literal injuries and the issues this could cause when you're an insecure prince with a need to please and the weight of the world on your shoulders).”

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To be overly aware of your own self is often associated with negative traits, such as narcissism, self-consciousness or a sensitivity to mistakes. Although to some with a proclivity towards the spotlight, it can become an inadvertent consequence of over-analyzing yourself in order to achieve those flawless performances. Naturally, gaining any sort of notoriety and attempting to retain that positive image means becoming intimately aware of your faults and staying open to change, taking criticism to heart all the while keeping relatably humble. On the other hand, it may also mean letting that same criticism become your one sole focus, tearing you down instead of becoming a rung in the ladder that's supposed to take you to higher places.

Roman often found that navigating these gray areas was a momentous task. To be proud of his work, but not be too unbearably egotistical to the point that it blinded him. To accept criticism but not allow the pursuit of perfection to destroy him.

His role was truly a balance; a thin tightrope he constantly had to traverse.

And on occasion, he would end up slipping.

------------------

I - bonds that tie us.

Roman first learned of his job as the ego when Thomas was young. With Remus at the helm of most of the subconscious and instinctual stuff as his id, perhaps he should've assumed that he would have a similar mirrored purpose beyond simply confidence, however it hadn't ever really come into play until one afternoon when the two of them were busy playing in The Imagination.

They had just concluded a close duel against each other and were putting their weapons away (cardboard ones, since Feelings didn't want them running around with real weapons once he found out they were using them to fight, and because Fear and Lies often fretted about them doing something stupid and getting hurt). Usually neither of them held the lead for long during their matches since they were so well-matched, but today Remus had won easily, which Roman chalked up to him feeling off ("Yeah right. Don't be such a sore loser." "It's true!"). Either way, Remus would be bragging about the victory until the next time they got the opportunity to duel, and that meant he was already rubbing it in as they prepared to leave.

On their way to the exit, Remus had taken the lead at some point and was throwing out ideas about they should do later when Roman unexpectedly paused and doubled over, clutching his head. Remus didn't notice that he'd stopped until he heard a groan and turned around.

"What's wrong? Didn't hit you too hard, did I?" He asked with a grin as if he assumed that Roman was still playing- perhaps trying to make up an excuse for his terrible loss.

"I- Dunno. My head hurts…" Roman cringed, eyes screwed shut.

Remus' smile faltered when he realized it might not be a joke and he walked back, peeling Romans hands away from his forehead. Underneath was a large red patch of irritated skin which looked set to bruise. His frown deepened because he definitely didn't cause that, nor did he witness any incidents during the day which would be the cause. "How'd that happen?

"Dunno!" He repeated, eyes going blank for a moment while he caught up with what was happening outside. The two of them were usually much too distracted when they were in The Imagination to pay attention to everything that transpired in the real world, especially on weekdays like this when Thomas would be in school and Creativity wasn't exactly needed during most classes. "...Thomas was told off for slacking in front of the entire class and he got some bad grades on his report card… He's feeling embarrassed, I think.

Remus was confused by how this was relevant until he pieced together that the two events were linked to what was happening to his brother. His eyes widened in realization before they settled into determination. "Then I'll fight him until he stops feeling bad."

That startled a laugh out of Roman, until his head started pounding and he cut himself off with a grimace. "...’Can't do that."

He laughed too, in hopes that it would lift Roman's spirits again. "Can too! I'll figure it out, then he'll be too busy worrying about his broken bones to care about what some dumb teacher said. Maybe then he'll get to skip school for a while and do something funner like-"

"Remus." Roman hissed over him, overcome with a sudden dizzy spell. His hand found Remus’ shoulder for purchase, which stopped his twin in his rant.

Remus stared at him in alarm. This seemed serious, and he didn't do too well with handling serious things. "Do... Do you want me to get Feelings? Or Learning? Or Lies?"

"No. None of them. I just wanna go home." He whined, leaning more and more against Remus for support.

' Home' in their case was what they called their shared room. It was where they always returned to at the end of a long day, and no matter what had happened, they could always feel their troubles wash away as they sat in their own little world once more. Roman longed for that feeling, to escape the too-bright sun of The Imagination which now felt like it was blinding him and just lay down for a while.

Remus nodded hesitantly, the plans he had spun of pulling a prank on Fear and Lies forgotten. Normally the two Creativities preferred to find the door of The Imagination manually (they claimed it made the experience more immersive when they were out on an adventure), but instead he reached towards the exit and the world twisted around them, ejecting them out together. They came out the other side back in their room, next to their bunk bed. Instead of climbing up to his bed on the top, Roman just about threw himself onto Remus' sheets. Somehow he managed to ignore the weird smell of the fabric that he always complained about, which spoke greatly about his current well-being.

Remus hovered behind him, unsure of what to do, when Roman let out another pained noise and curled up tighter. "What now?!"

"Thomas...parents.

Since that didn't really explain anything, Remus decided to check up on what was happening outside himself. Thomas' parents had asked to see his report card and they were giving him the 'not mad but disappointed talk', while Thomas was shrunk into himself in shame. Yikes, Learning mustn't be feeling too hot about this either. But right now his focus was on his brother, who the sight of in such a sorry state filled him with rage.

"Now I want to fight them too." Remus muttered darkly. "Take the knife from the kitchen that dad uses to cut up turkeys and make them stop talking forever. Then we won't have to deal with this again and you won't-"

Oh right, Roman was still injured. Focus, Remus. Concern. Right, he was concerned for his brother, who was hurting like he had never seen, even after their fights. What could he do about this? He was always so much better at destroying things than fixing them, so having to deal with a situation like this without any sort of guidance made him nervous.

"You can't hurt them." Roman protested weakly.

"Maybe if I want to enough I could!"

Remus walked around the bunk bed and settled down on the side Roman was facing towards. From this angle he could see new bruises spattered along his brother's arms. In a grotesque way, the different shades came together like a watercolour painting. Except instead of a canvas, they were on a body- Remus shook his head. Focus! He could draw sickly yellow and purple-inspired pictures later, when Roman would be in the mood to be more good-humored about it.

"You shouldn't, then. It's bad."

"...Alright then. What should I do Ro-bro?"

Roman cracked open one eye and looked at him. "Stay? Until Thomas feels better?"

Considering he was just grounded for the weekend, Remus wasn't sure how long it would take for this hit to Thomas' self esteem to blow over, but despite knowing this he nodded anyway.

"Okay."

He laid down next to Roman, not commenting when he hid his face against the covers and started sniffling, or when he eventually fell asleep, curled against his side like how they would sleep when they were newly-split. When Learning knocked in their door to tell them that dinner was ready, he made a weak excuse that they were busy and would eat later.

Without even asking he knew Roman would want this to be kept between them, despite how the others would undoubtedly fuss and nurse him back to health. And perhaps that was the reason why. His brother always wanted to appear infallible to the others and did so replicating the heroes from the stories they read, which often meant refusing to admit when he needed help and trying to do everything himself. If you asked Remus, he was trying way too hard to be like the Creativity that came before them, which was silly because they were different now and as they were, they needed each other.

Remus closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep too. This seemed like a big deal, so Roman's pride would have to pass eventually for him to seek help. Right?

------------------

II - even without dying you're dead to me.

In retrospect, Remus had underestimated Roman’s ability to keep a secret (maybe because he was so quick these days to run over to Feelings, now Morality, whenever Remus did something to upset him. Tattle-tale).

Now that they were older and their roles were more defined, their once shared-room had separated into two to adjust to this change. Even though it had been long enough that he should be used to the feeling of being alone, there were still times where Remus had to try to not let it bother him when he looked up at night, expecting to see the familiar underside of a top bunk and instead only finding the ceiling he had painted an underwater-themed mural on.

On nights like this, far too sentimental to enter a peaceful rest, they would go sleep in each other's rooms, saying nothing as they tried to pretend they were as close as they once were. Remus groaned into his pillow, fighting that annoying urge to seek comfort. He was a teenager now, he didn't want to be so attached at the hip to a side who had started looking at him with disgust and fear instead of the fondness they used to share. Sometimes he couldn't help it though, clinging to the days when everything felt simple and the biggest thing they had to worry about was finding time to create the things they enjoyed. At the very least he was glad that Roman didn't mock him for his occasional bouts of uncharacteristic sentiment; that would solidify for him that there were no remnants of the relationship they once had left.

With that depressing thought, he rolled out of bed. He couldn't sleep tonight so he was going to make that Roman's problem; that always cheered him up. Perhaps if he hadn't made such a disturbed face when Remus had talked about the brazen bull he had made earlier that day, he would feel a bit more sympathy for waking his brother up in the middle of the night. Buuut he didn't and he was feeling petty, so without a second thought he sunk out and into Romans room.

"WAKEY WAKEY~!" Remus clashed two cymbals together like one of those nightmare-inducing wind-up monkeys, only to belatedly realize the bed he was facing was empty.

He blinked, both in confusion and to adjust his eyes to the unexpected light of the room. Both of them may be night owls, but Roman would usually be asleep by 2am at least, and it was way past that hour. Looking around the room, his eyes latched onto the vanity where his brother was sitting, looking incredibly startled from the deafening crash of metal against metal.

"Get out!" He yelled once his shock faded into indignation, glaring at Remus.

Remus didn’t respond, staring at the medical supplies spread across the surface. Roman was in the middle of wrapping a compression bandage around his thigh, which he abandoned as soon as Remus had entered.

"Did you get something stuck in your ear again? I'm not in the mood to deal with you tonight, Remus. Leave ."

"What happened?" He blurted out before he could even think about the question.

"Doesn't matter. In case you've forgotten, the door's right there. Feel free to use it at any point."

Instead of complying (because when had Remus ever done that for anyone? No no, it was always more exciting to do the opposite of what people ask and see what happens), he crossed the room, ignoring how Roman increasingly looked like he wanted to punch him the longer he lingered.

"Bitch, it obviously does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be looking like you got trampled by a cracked-out horse."

"Lovely imagery." Roman gritted out.

"Lovely avoidance." Remus retorted sarcastically. "Aren't you best friends with Morality and Logic now? Why aren't they here sucking your d-"

"If you don't go back to your own room I'll run you through with my sword." Roman warned with an air of finality.

Remus snorted.

It was hard to be intimidated by the same side who had once cried when he had accidentally smashed an imaginary caterpillar cocoon with his morning star. In his defense he had forgotten to make the handle weighted when he first made it, so he was still getting used to the uneven distribution of the weapon...not like that stopped Roman from getting upset with him. Supposedly he had spent the last week trying to raise butterflies and wanted to show them off to Logic after they had learned about chrysalis in class, but Remus found that somewhat laughable considering he could just create a fully-formed butterfly if he wanted to. So he did laugh, calling him dumb for getting upset over nothing, and through tears Roman pushed him to the ground and told him he hated him for the first time. (After that, he may have spent the next week killing any butterflies that crossed his path, but that was neither here nor there. The point of this tangent provided a lá Remus Sander's brain was was that Roman could be a big baby and therefore he couldn't take anything he said too seriously.)

"Sounds like a good time! Save that idea for later though, because if you don't tell me I'll summon them over here to ask them myself."

"Don't. They don't know about this, alright? For once in your life can you just let it go?"

Huh. Remus tilted his head. It had been years since they first found out about the fun little quirk Roman had, and he just...never told? He figured at the very least it would be a good way to milk even more attention from the others; something Creativity had been seeking more often after Fear turned into Anxiety during middle school and gained a much larger role in Thomas' life. "Why?"

Roman huffed in frustration. "They don't need to. I can handle it myself."

"...Wow! Careful not to summon Lies, because you're full of shit and you know it." Remus fired back. He didn't even know why he was getting so mad. Minutes ago he was cursing his brother's guts for how their relationship had soured, and now all of a sudden it was if all of that dislike had faded into the background for something else. Concern? He hadn't felt concern for anything in years. Roman always made it seem like he could take care of himself, so that's what Remus had believed at first too, though perhaps stumbling across this situation was evidence of the opposite. Reasonable self-care didn't exactly look like 'patching yourself up at 4 in the morning'. At least, that sounded like something Lies would say which probably meant it was accurate.

"Ugh- Shut up. I've been doing just fine so far, without you or them, so you can take your fake pity and shove it up your you-know-where."

Remus didn't rise to the opportunity to poke fun at that statement, his mind going blank (and what a strange and unusual feeling that was). The idea that anything could have been hidden from him seemed unthinkable given how they used to tell each other everything. He hadn't even considered that that habit had become one-sided, given how it had never stopped being true for him. "...Roman, what does that mean? Has this been happening a lot?"

"..."

"Why did you never tell me?! This isn't something you can just keep a secret! If you won't say anything I will-

Remus' mouth snapped shut as Roman ejected him from his room. He landed back on his own bed and when he scrambled onto his feet to tried to rise up again, he found that his efforts were blocked. Roman had kicked him out and locked the door behind him. He never did that, no matter how much they fought or annoyed each other. It was the one thing they did that showed they still cared.

Remus trembled with adrenaline and shock. Taking his pillow, he summoned a knife and stabbed it and stabbed it and stabbed it until all of his pent up feelings were gone and there all that was left was the fluff covering his floor.

------------------

III - interlude.

As it turns out, he'd never get the opportunity to tell, because shortly after that, the newly appointed 'dark sides' were pushed away into their own corner of the mindscape after an explosive argument between the sides (during which Remus tried to ignore how closely Roman stood at Morality's side, sword brandished towards him. He didn't want to think his twin had a hand in their separation, even though it made so much sense).

When he argued about going back with Lies, now Deceit after being appointed the new leader of the unwanted and unloved, he was told through clenched teeth and pained eyes that he shouldn't. Not until Thomas was ready for him. For all of them.

------------------

IV - to the death of me, i'm just fulfillin' my destiny.

After that, Roman adjusted, and did so alone. Teenage years came with many challenges, ones he didn’t always escape unscathed. Despite the occasional rejection here, an unfortunate setback there, he felt as if he had grown a thicker skin for the trials they faced. Into adulthood he wore his ego like a suit of armor; Thomas was outgoing and likable, so of course it became easier to brush aside random negative experiences as minor blips, things that didn’t represent their worth.

This was challenged somewhat as he began pursuing creative outlets more seriously. This meant more work for Roman in general (Woo! Suck it Logan), but it also came with more opportunities to feel ashamed of a messed-up performance, embarrassed by a note sung wrong, hurt by an ill-intentioned piece of feedback.

So he tried to compensate at times. Sue him. Between the nights he spent nursing his wounds and wondering how to do better next time, perhaps he deserved to be a little self-congratulatory about the shining achievements he won for them. There was a certain safety in placing himself up on that pedestal, so high above that it felt like nobody could ever reach him; that he was above it all. But the reality was that this pedestal, gold-plated as it may be, was founded on an interior of paper mache, one wrong move from away from collapsing and sending him tumbling back down to earth.

It was a good thing that pretending came naturally to Roman. So natural that the fear of falling sometimes didn’t register with him at all.

------------------

V - the calamitous corollary of being considered.

Except, it may have been too much to expect nobody to ever realize there was something up with him. The fact that the sides had to work closely together alone meant that the excuse of being busy after every troubling experience could only work for so long.

The first one to find out was Patton, because of course it was. Sometimes Roman felt as if Patton wasn’t given enough credit for his intelligence. Even though he could be a tad slow on the uptake on other things, his ability to detect the slightest change in mood and discern how people were feeling could be uncanny at times. Emotions just happened to be Patton's strong suit, and while that was very much appreciated when it came to sharing excitement or talking through a heated problem, it was not so grand when you were trying to get away with hiding something.

The first time he let something slip was a few days after Thomas had been flat-out rejected when asking someone out on a date. It wasn't that big of a blow, considering they had barely known the guy for more than a month, but Roman had been insistent that they throw caution into the wind and give it a shot, sure that he had been receiving signals that proved that this guy felt a similar interest. Turns out, he didn't, and was very-much straight. At least the rejection had been somewhat carried out gently and he didn't seem too put-off about staying friends afterwards. Nonetheless the wound was still fresh, and Thomas kept internally cringing whenever he thought about it, which didn't help matters. Whatever. Roman dealt with the bruises that arose from the incident and dabbed a little foundation on the ones he couldn't hide with clothing. They'd get over it in a matter of weeks.

It was after the awkward feelings had finally begun to settle when it happened. Roman and Patton had been in the kitchen preparing dinner when Thomas received a message on his phone, and when he went to check it, he face-planted on the couch in mortification.

'Hey man, I just remembered that my cousin is coming to town this weekend. He's gay too so I thought you two could go on a blind date if you're still looking. :) Lmk your thoughts.'

Patton frowned upon sensing the sudden wave of embarrassment, pausing to check what had happened. "Well...That's thoughtful of him!" He chuckled, tone trying and failing to be positive. Roman couldn't share the same sentiment.

"Thoughtless is more like it! He wants to set us up with the first gay person he knows? Who's not even in the city?  Does he think Thomas has no standards at all?! How dare-" Roman's indignant protests cut off as he felt the skin around his collar grow tender and swell slightly. He let out a slight whimper when he pressed his fingers into the bruise to double check its location. Why now and in such a visible place?! He's going to get Thomas to drop that guy if it's the last thing he does-

"Ro! Are you okay?"

Right. Patton was still here. Don't panic.

"Y-yeah! I just remembered an injury I sustained earlier. But not to worry, 'tis but a flesh wound!" He joked.

"A flesh wound?!" Patton cried, reference flying over his head. "Let me see."

Gently, Patton moved his head upwards to get a better look at the bruise. It mustn't look good, because Patton, squeamish as he was, grimaced on sight.

"How on earth did that happen? I don't remember that being there just now."

"Uh." Come on Creative skills, work your magic. "A stray whomping willow in The Imagination? You know how they can be. I suppose it merely took a while to develop, bruises can be funny like that."

Luckily it seemed to work, because Patton sighed. "I thought you got rid of them all after that time one almost threw Logan into a lake. Did Remus make more?"

Heh. Good times. That was a slight lie on his behalf when he had told the others he had gotten rid of the trees; he had kept a few of them around because they were once a gift from Remus to quote 'spice up his boring forests'. Not for any sentimental reasons, of course, but because he thought it was funny and it kept him on his toes. "I guess."

Patton made a small 'tsk' noise, mouth still drawn in a frown but he didn't comment further. "Come on, I'll help you treat that. Does it hurt?"

"Of course not." He smiled. "Do you really think I could be bested by a mere tree?"

"Never! I do wish you were more careful when you go on your little adventures, though. It makes me awfully sad to think about you in 'pine'."

Roman knew it had been a flimsy excuse and even though Patton seemed to accept it, there was a hesitation in his eye which spoke of hidden disbelief. After some first aid and many more tree-related puns later, they went back to cooking, finishing up 30 minutes later. When Logan came down to dinner, immediately questioning the bandages around Roman's neck, he repeated the fake story, distracting him with a request not to go into The Imagination with the whomping willow around and packaging the thinly-veiled jab at the way Logan had once freaked out when he was swung around by the semi-sentient tree as a warning. Logan's concern quickly faded and he shot back a sharp retaliation that Roman didn't care to remember. He just laughed, feeling as light as a kite with the crisis averted.

The next time didn't go over as gracefully.

Thomas had found a different partner eventually, one that wasn't some friend's cousin. They dated for months, and just when he had been thinking about inviting his boyfriend to move in so he could be closer to his workplace, he'd been broken up with. On Valentines Day of all days. There was no better way of putting it; they had planned to go out to dinner, managing to book a table at a fairly classy restaurant, exchanged gifts, and near the end of the night his boyfriend had leaned across the table with a sad smile, thanking him for the evening before admitting he didn't see them working out anymore. He said it quietly, as to not cause a scene among the other diners, but that didn't stop Thomas from immediately bursting into tears. The scene had caused his (now ex) boyfriend to leave early after paying his half of the bill. At least the waitress had taken pity on him and brought over more complimentary bread rolls (which he took because he was not a complete fool, heartbroken as he may be), though even that didn't stop the confusion and embarrassment of it all.

As expected, the whole incident caused nothing but chaos; the right-brain sides were devastated, Anxiety was in a state of panic, and Logic had been metaphorically thrown out the window. As Thomas made his way home, they were at a complete loss for what to do. They had started the day, hoping to take a step forward in their relationship, and ended up with nothing at all. What worse is that they didn't even have a clear idea why (admittedly, that could have been due to, as mentioned before, the inconsolable crying).

It seemed like the most sensible thing to do at the moment was to throw the Valentines gifts away and gorge on the ice-cream that had been sitting in the back of the freezer for who-knows how long while watching a comfort show and trying to forget the whole evening. So that's what they did. As Logan tried to sort through what happened and rationalize what to do next, Patton wallowed in his misery as he dealt with the giant mix of feelings Thomas was going through.

After a few hours working through the brunt of it, enough to where his mind began wandering elsewhere, Patton realized with a start that he hadn't seen Roman since the start of the evening. He must have been so devastated too! Patton recalled how excited he was about the day ahead of them, how he spun fantasies of Thomas' boyfriend accepting the proposal to move in and then the future proposals that could come after that-

Patton mournfully sobbed. He needed to stop thinking about this, or else Thomas could start spiraling again. The best thing to do right now was distract himself, and to do that he should go check on Roman. Perhaps they could talk and have a mutual catharsis over the whole thing. Or better yet, he could put his energy towards someone else and he won't have to fall back into the thoughts that had been clouding his mind ever since they had left that stupid restaurant.

Splashing some water on his face to clear up some of the blotchy-ness, he left his room and crossed the hallway towards Roman's. He couldn't hear any noise coming from inside, so he tentatively knocked. "Kiddo?"

For a few moments there was silence, and Patton almost turned away, assuming that Roman might be blowing off some steam in The Imagination, until a voice cleared inside the room and answered. "Pat? What do you want?"

Patton was taken aback for a second, not expecting such a straight-forward answer. It almost sounded like Roman wasn't upset at all, but Patton sincerely doubted that to be true. His tone was almost too normal, and for anybody else he wouldn't have questioned it, but the lack of dramatics or flowery language was always a clear red flag for the Creative side. "I wanted to check on you since um- You-Know-Who took 'dine and dash' a tad too seriously." He chuckled humorlessly. "...Can I come in?"

There was some shuffling and muffled curses. "Why? I'm fine. Worry about yourself."

"'Why?'" He repeated, eyeing the door warily. "I'm concerned! I haven't seen you in hours and I- I know you must be upset about this too. Can we please talk?"

"I'm not exactly my most princely presentable self right now. Anyway, it's late. Surely this can wait until tomorrow?"

Patton looked down at himself. Instead of his usual garb, he had thrown on some more comfortable clothes hours ago, and they were currently crumpled from laying in bed, sobbing his eyes out. "I'm hardly my best-self either right now, Kiddo-" Before he could go on a spiel about how it was best to not bottle up emotions when they're fresh (and ignoring the hypocrisy of that sentiment), he heard a thump on the other side of the door followed by a quiet hiss of pain. Patton began to panic, and his hand flew to the handle. "I'm coming in!"

Before the other side could even consider protesting, Patton flung the fortunately unlocked door open and stepped into the room, gasping at the sight he was met with. Roman was on the floor, wincing as he clutched his leg. Although he was still dressed in his usual outfit, there were enough injuries on his visible skin that Patton could only wonder how far they went. He covered his mouth and stared in horror as Roman turned to look at him nervously.

"What- How did this happen?!"

Roman licked his dry lips, eyes darting away as he searched for an excuse. "I- The Imagination- This is from earlier-"

"You told me this morning you were going to spend the day helping Thomas write a love letter." Patton said, voice strained with panic and disbelief. "Tell me the truth, please."

Shoot, he had announced his plans earlier that day, hadn't he? He internally cursed his inability to keep his mouth shut, before lowering his head in defeat. "Can you keep a secret, Pat?"

Said side shifted uncomfortably, but his tone was resolute when he nodded. "If it means you'll let me help with whatever this is."

"Okay..." Roman inhaled. "Okay."

And then he explained. Or rather, gave a shortened version of the truth which was less likely to give Patton a complete heart-attack: that bruised egos were something he experienced, but it was never this bad (true) or all that common (also true), and that they weren't something to worry about because he could usually take care of them himself (technically true). By the time he had finished, Patton still looked concerned, but had become less frantic with the information.

"You'll let me help in the future if you need it, right?" He asked, so close to shedding tears that Roman had trouble keeping eye-contact without becoming choked up with guilt.

"If I need it." He agreed.

Finally, Patton smiled, and went to fetch the first-aid kit hastily. As he helped patch him up for the second time that year, the look in Patton's eyes was so pained that Roman vowed to let him see this side of him as little as possible.

For a while, he kept true to this promise to himself, and on the occasions when Patton would drop by to check if everything was alright, if Roman had encountered any bruised egos since, he relished in the relief on his face whenever he would lie and said he hadn't. Distantly he wondered sometimes if this was how heroes were supposed to feel; protecting people by letting them live in blissful ignorance and bearing the burden of the ugly truth alone.

(It was thoughts like that that kept him going.)

------------------

VI - high highs and low lows.

And then came the videos. Youtube had been an excellent ego-boost for Roman. Similar to how life-changing Vine was, the instant gratification of likes and feedback and people liking what they made was enough to send him over the moon, and oftentimes it was able to ward away the downsides that came with it too; the stress of staying relevant, the occasional hate comment, the portion of dislikes that didn't explain what about the video was dislike-worthy-

Overall it seemed like a great idea, especially when the sides became involved. It gave them all the chance to gain their own spotlights, which most of them appreciated. Sometimes this wasn't always so good though. With the videos came more introspection than usual, which meant deeply examining each problem to try to find some kind of moral. And right now, Roman didn't want to do any sort of thinking exercise about how badly he messed up. At this point in their career, a simple audition should have been a cake walk, instead it was an ache walk...Okay, admittedly he wasn't on his best game right now. The point was, he had potentially thrown the whole audition by forgetting something so simple as the lyrics, and now the casting director would definitely only remember Thomas by the way he froze under pressure, which wasn't exactly an appealing trait in somebody looking to go up on stage where the pressure was set to 100.

After everything was said and done, Roman had no choice but to approach Patton for help. In his current state, he was much too dizzy on his feet to even contemplate showing up and trying to play it off cool, which would've been an laughable endeavor anyhow considering how outwardly embarrassed Thomas was. Betrayal from his own-- well. It was a bit too harsh to blame his current predicament on Thomas, after all the fact of the matter was that it was Roman’s fault for not being better prepared.

Anyway, that's how he ended up in his current position, being swaddled in a too-warm bed, injuries patched up and having soup spoon-fed into his mouth. The whole thing felt...strange. Usually during times like this he would be grinning and bearing it, the inner satisfaction he got from fooling everyone with his performance pushing him through the day, but he supposed this was unavoidable. It was better that only one side had to see part of the problem rather than exposing it to everyone, and out of all of them, at least it was Patton. It still didn't sit well that his secret was now out in the open, a throwaway joke to be used before moving along, but hopefully that would play to his favor and they'd view it as his usual dramatics. Not like he preferred to be seen as too incompetent to care for himself, even if it fit with his persona. He supposed it just went without saying that princes are supposed to have someone at their every beck and call, they're supposed to be indulgent and spoiled and ridiculous. But princes were also supposed to be leaders, someone who was caring and brave and ready to face any challenge.

Roman sighed, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. He didn't feel very princely at all right now.

“Kiddo, are you doing okay? Does something hurt? Is the soup too hot?” Patton asked, eyebrows drawing together in concern. He was such an open book when it came to the other sides, which meant that Roman knew exactly when he had worried or panicked the fatherly figure. Honestly, it only made him feel worse. Being doted over seemed like a good idea until it meant being the subject of pity and other people’s hurt.

“No no, I’m fine Padre. It’s fine. I was just taking a trip into thought city for a second there.” He cracked a smile, trying to ignore how the bruise at the corner of his mouth pulled at the motion. If only he could think of a more original nickname, perhaps that would be more convincing. He was simply drawing blanks today it seemed. “What do you think the others are up to right now? I’d bet 5 bucks Logan is losing his mind having to deal with Anxiety alone.”

Patton didn’t look entirely convinced, but the sudden change of subject encouraged him to stop any further questioning.

In the end they talked until the others had finished filming. Whatever happened during the discussion must have helped Thomas grow past his feelings, because one-by-one the injuries on Roman's body grew smaller until they had faded entirely. Seeing this, Patton noticeably livened up again, and he cheerily declared that he would take the empty bowl back to the kitchen and check in with the others.

As soon as he was gone, Roman’s face dropped, tired from all the smiling he had been doing, and he slid down further into the sheets. Perhaps he should consider himself fortunate that the others had helped out, but all he could think about was how they now knew about his biggest weakness and how embarrassing that was. Logan and Anxiety were the last two sides he wanted finding out about this, if not for their often-tumultuous relationships, but because they'd never fully understand. Neither of them were as dependent on validation as much as he was. Despite what others thought about them, they would just keep on going, meanwhile Roman couldn't truly thrive without some kind of feedback; he was too shackled to expectations and the need to please for that sort of self-indulgence, it was practically written in his existence. It simply wasn't enough for him to be great, he needed to be great and be appreciated. Without that, he felt as if he would burn out, like a candle who's supply of oxygen had been cut off, leaving only smoke and the charred wick behind as a reminder of the fire that was once there. And sometimes that made him feel pathetic, that so much of his esteem depended on what people thought of him. Other times it just made him envy the others who had no one to please but Thomas himself and what he deemed important.

...He was tired, but he needed to keep going. The least he could do was keep up the image of egotism so that those horrid thoughts of being lesser weren't picked up by the others. If they started thinking of him the way he thought about himself (if they didn't already), he wouldn't know what he'd do. He wouldn't stand to be pitied or mocked or anything that validated what he already knew about himself. He just wouldn't.

Rolling out of bed, he practiced his smile in the mirror, fixed his clothes, and sunk out to make his grand appearance.

He couldn’t let this happen again at all costs.

------------------

VII - an agreeable sort of self-destruction.

More and more often, Roman was glad that he and Remus didn't share a room anymore. From the nights he hunched over scraps of ideas and worked without distraction until the sun was on the horizon, to the days he woke up with tears clinging to his lashes and breath coming out in labored pants, until he realizes the dream about him messing up so badly that he's split apart a second time was merely a cruel trick of his mind.

Currently, there was no greater time to be grateful for their separation than the moment he hastily returned back to safety after Remus' debut to Thomas. If only his brother could see the way he paced back and forth and tugged at his hair, he was sure his other half would merely gloat and poke away at his wounds instead of doing anything to help. Or worse, use it as ammunition in front of the other sides as some sort of proof of his imperfection.

Speaking of, the video was disastrous. He had been out-cold the entire time so he had no idea what was said and had no way of directing the conversation at all, which was possibly the most aggravating part of the whole situation. Beyond that, there was so much that Remus could have told the others without his knowledge. Once upon a time, the two of them were two peas in a pod, and that meant they knew an unnameable amount of secrets about each other. (Like how Remus always used to sleep with this crudely-knitted octopus Roman had made for him when he discovered crochet. Remus claimed to have set fire to it when they were teenagers, but Roman had seen it tucked away on a shelf the last time he had been in his room, before the Great Divide). The room swam a little when Roman thought about it too much. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but it wasn't as if he'd done much to earn Remus' loyalty. Why would he take the higher road and keep all of that to himself now, when he had the prime opportunity right in front of him to make himself seem like the better twin?

Hold on... He was thinking about this all wrong. Remus didn't care about good and bad the same way he did. Sure he was adamant that his version of being creative was more interesting, but he never tried to convince any of the other sides that he was inherently better or more worthy of attention than Roman, at least not to the same extent he did. The realization hit Roman like a train on it's way to a damsel tied to railway tracks (for lack of a less Remus-y simile): had he been wrong to push his brother away when he was just trying to help? All this time he had expected nothing but the worst from him, all because he was loud and unapologetic and had gone about his concern in a way that frightened him. Though just because Roman had been scared, surely that didn't warrant the dark sides being pushed aside in such a manner, and clearly the repression wasn't any benefit to Thomas...And was that partially his fault? He had been the one who encouraged Patton to divide the sides up. He had come up with the name for them: light and dark.

When he really thought about it, there wasn't much 'light' about him, not when he had been the source of so many problems.

Making Virgil feel unwelcome and continuing to trample on his boundaries.

His insults toward Logan and attempts to diminish his importance.

Leading Thomas and Patton astray in his pursuits for romance.

Being too quick to side with Janus when he should’ve known that the deceitful side only stood for selfishness and not the fair-played ambition Thomas valued.

And now: his treatment of Remus for most of their lives. Pushing him away, pretending he didn't exist, trying to erase their memories together.

How could he have the gall to claim that he saw Remus as an awful reflection of everything he didn’t want to be, when the whole point of looking into a mirror means facing you and you alone?

Even his metaphors were hypocritical.

It was a shock that nobody saw through that statement or called him out on how he had wronged just about everybody. How truly unfortunate it was that he had been declared the hero when he had done very little to live up to that title. Heroes weren't mean. They didn't make people feel bad about themselves for merely existing. They're supposed to defeat the bad guys, yes, but every time he had thought he was accomplishing that, it turned out that he was always off the mark. At least this time he had it right with Deceit, but still, that didn't erase the history he had with misjudging what was acceptable. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of reflection that must have on Thomas' content. If his creativity, which was supposed to be a force of pure good, had made a countless number of errors, what did that say about the things they were proud of? How many things had they put into the world that were imperfect? That had a misleading message? That was problematic and hurt people?

The realization had his throat tightening in panic. How could he ever have confidence in his work when he had such a flawed system of right and wrong? How-

...Wait.

Roman's spiraling thoughts were fortunately put on pause as he passed by his vanity, being pulled back to reality in an instant and finally noticing the splash of colours that had made themselves welcome on his skin once more. He gaped at his own reflection. It wasn’t as if he was unused to the sight per say, but he hadn’t realized anything had happened today that would affect Thomas’ ego. Remus’ appearance perhaps? He had the feeling that if there was any discussion to be had in light of that it would be on the goodness of his character, which could be a worthy-enough explanation. But if anything wouldn’t that what the large gash on the back of his head (fittingly) represented? So where had the others come from? Unless…

Was it him?  

His own self-criticism had never left a dent on his pride before. Usually his injuries tended to be the result of outside sources; the kind of things that come out of nowhere and hit at you harder than you could ever expect. Did this mean that his own words were on par with Thomas’ harshest critics?

Roman shakily sat down. This... was a good thing, right? Perhaps he was finally gaining some self-awareness. He had been trying to make amends for where he had fallen short in the past, so this could be the sign he was making progress.

Yes. This was good. And if it wasn't, then perhaps this was just apart of his repentance. At this point he was sure everyone would agree.

------------------

VIII - the art of learning to let go.

The thing about tightropes is quite interesting. Like most other skills, it is something that needs to be honed. At first you try on a smaller scale and fall off more times you can count, but it's alright because that's why you practice in a safe environment. And then you progress to something more risky, and this time you have other tools to help keep you steady. Before you know it, you're up doing the actual thing; a rope suspended tens of feet in the air and thousands of eyes watching your every move, each one wondering if you really will make it across, or if they're about to watch a great tragedy take place before them. When you misjudge your own abilities and are thrust upon that rope when you're unprepared, however, all of the practice you gained can feel as if it has slipped away. As soon as you take your first step, the rope wobbles and you know somewhere deep down that your fall will be inevitable. But with so many expectant eyes baring into you, what else are you to do but continue forward? Continue until you're halfway across and your balance is so shaky that all you can do is watch as the rope swings backwards and forwards beneath your feet until you give up on trying to steady yourself entirely and-

Roman let go of the rope he had been clinging onto.

There was no grace in the way that he fell. It wasn't even a matter of choosing a side; ego or change. At first he fell so gradually that he didn't feel it at all, placing all of his thoughts and opinions into a neat little box and shoving them aside. Trying so hard to adapt, trying to be feel comfortable clinging to reasoning that contradicted his role, his meaning, his existence- and before he knew it, he was plummeting towards the ground because even then, that little piece of purpose he was forcing himself to mold his worth around did nothing but feed into the self-righteousness that must've always been there, hiding away under the surface.

Roman could only describe the feeling as air-sickness when he sunk out, his very being thrown into weightless uncertainty. Once he appeared back at his safe place, the place he wanted to be most, he felt his body connect with the ground once more as he collapsed onto the floor, body shaking with sobs and wounds he already knew were appearing.

He had been so stupid. Every step he took was littered with mistakes. Just when he thought he had learned, to try to be more accepting, to know when to give up, to listen to others instead of forging his own path, another thing came along and knocked him back to where he started and he was thrown back into the cycle of trying to atone for his actions. A cycle that never seemed to end.

His arm fractured and started to swell.

For once he thought he finally had it figured out. If he just followed the person who should've known what was best for Thomas, even if it meant going back on his own desires, surely then he would be on the right side for once. But all of a sudden that was wrong and now it was all his fault that so many bad outcomes had come about as a consequence of his lack of assertion. He may not have loaded the gun, but he had pulled the trigger, and that made him more culpable than anyone else.

His nose ached as if hit by an unseen force and began dripping blood.

Even his attempts at keeping his ego in check were all for nothing because the moment he felt threatened he lashed out towards Janus, the side who now all of a sudden deserved a seat at the table because he had gained Patton's favor (nevermind that he had agreed with him first. Oh no, that was just Roman being naive and easy to sway if only you stroke his ego a little. What importance could his opinions possibly have?). But that was the thing, wasn’t it? In the end he just couldn’t win, no matter what he did. When he tried to silence his voice it was too obvious and attention-seeking, and when he chose to project his thoughts it was too loud and abrasive. When he spoke out he was punching down, but when others did the same they were punching up up up. It left him wondering how much more he had to fall before it was no longer deemed okay to kick him while he was down. Was it his fault for choosing to sit atop his golden pedestal, making himself seem forever untouchable and unable to be hurt? And would things be different if he was sensitive like Patton? Complicated like Virgil? Respectable like Logan? Had he been making a mistake all along by pretending to be stronger than he was? But how was he ever supposed to let go of the walls he had built, knowing that the second they crumbled, all the things he had been trying to protect himself from would pass through and destroy everything he had worked so hard for? Maybe it was time to accept that this was all he could be; that there was no way for him to change, no way to soften his edges or stick firm to his beliefs that wouldn’t end with him in a losing position.

His ribs ached, bending unnaturally until he felt a snap in his chest.

Perhaps Janus was right by calling him evil. He had proven it time and time again that he was no good for Thomas. In fact, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to say that he was worse than Remus. At least he couldn't help the way he was, didn't have control over the problems he caused unlike Roman. He was supposed to be the half with all the bad parts removed. The 2.0 version, new and improved. He had no excuse for being as flawed as he was, not really. All this time spent thinking he was the good twin, and it was nothing more than an act of self-delusion. The grandeur of a side with nothing to show for it beyond his words.

His eyelid puffed up and mottled with colour.

...He was bad. Unneeded. Evil.

The capillaries across his knuckles burst and stained them a violent red.

Everything would be so much better if he just-

"Broman?" Oh shit.

Romans eyes flew open. And he realized belatedly that he wasn't looking at his floor; his floor had intricate Persian rugs and a soft fluffy carpet. This one had various stains and burns and felt scratchy against his fingers.

"What the fuck. Princey? You good?"

1) He wasn't in his room. 2) Wherever he was, Remus and Virgil were here too.

"M-my mistake! I must have accidentally sunk out to the wrong place. If you'll excuse me-" He tried, but his voice was hoarse and clearly not okay. Of all times for his acting skills to have failed him.

"Oh no you don't."

Before he could sink out through the floor, two arms latched under his armpits and hoisted him upright. He choked back a gasp at the sudden movement, senses flashing white as his injuries were jostled. He barely heard the shocked exclamation in front of him before the two voices discussed something hastily and he was deposited onto a soft surface. The ringing in his ears faded, just in time to hear Virgil speak.

"What happened? " He asked, voice layered with anxiety and sounding on the verge of a panic attack. Roman would have tried to reassure him if he didn't feel like his entire body was on fire.

"It just happens sometimes, when Thomas’ ego gets bruised." Remus answered bitterly when it became clear his brother wasn't in a position to explain. He then muttered under his breath: "Though this time is different, huh?"

"What? I thought- I didn’t know it got this bad.” Virgil whispers, horrified.

"Sorry you have to see this, Finding Emo." Roman croaked once he began slowly coming back to his senses. He would regret not being more composed later, but right now he couldn't really bring himself to care about anything. “I’ll be as good as Gucci soon.”

"No. Shut the fuck up, you don't get to say that." Remus said angrily. Why did he sound so mad? Roman tried to crack open his eyes to check, but the world was still spinning too much for him to really recognize what was he was seeing. On top of that it seemed one of his eyes was swollen shut. Joy. That'll make it more difficult to patch himself up later.

"'Told you before, I can handle myself." He finally managed.

"Yeah? Was that you 'handling yourself' when you dropped in and started bleeding all over my floor? Or when you stopped talking to me and kicked us 'dark sides' to the curb because your sense of superiority was more important? Or when you started acting like a royal prick to everyone just so they wouldn't know you spend your nights licking your wounds?"

"Stop." Roman pleaded, shamefully curling into himself as much as his body allowed in its current state. Remus paused in his tirade before continuing, more quietly.

"If you're uncomfortable just from that, you should try watching your brother slowly self-destruct for years and not being able to do anything about it. That's fucking uncomfortable." Roman heard a sniffle, and his body went cold. He hadn't heard Remus get upset since they were kids. Sometimes he forgot that there was more to his brother than his disgusting unpredictable persona, and the thought that he could've been hurting Remus all this time was something that had never even crossed his mind.

"I'm..." Sorry? Was he sorry? Apologizing was practically second nature at this point, but he couldn't even tell if the words would be genuine if he said them. Was he sorry for his actions or for hurting Remus, or was it the fact that he had been caught at all? If he had it his way, none of this would be happening, so perhaps he wasn't as apologetic as he thought. He really was the worst, wasn't he?

Remus seemed to pick up on what he was thinking about saying, because he laughed; not in his usual cartoon-ish way, but resigned and hurt. The sound pulled at Roman's heart. "Save it. Here's what's going to happen you Walmart Prince Eric knockoff. You’re going to accept our help whether you like it or not, and if you try to pull any self-sacrificing BS at any point, I’m going to eat your entire makeup collection.”

“...You wouldn’t. You don’t like the way glitter sticks to your teeth.” Roman argued weakly, just for the sake of being contrary.

“Try me.”

Roman sighed. He really didn’t doubt that Remus would be petty enough to go through with his threats, especially since he knew it how much it would bother Roman to summon a new set. In any case, he wasn’t in a position to do much of anything at the moment, and now that it was too late to pretend like this never happened, he figured he might as well roll with it. Future him could deal with the consequences later.

“Okay.” He said after a moments pause, looking to the Virgil-shaped figure, as much as the crick in his neck would allow. “...Just don’t tell Patton about this. Not yet.”

The figure shuffled, out of what was probably awkwardness after having watching the twins argue. “No worries dude. We’re not exactly on- uh. Y’know what, nevermind, I’ll just go get the medical kit.”

During the moments that Virgil had shuffled off, there was an empty silence. Roman spent it trying to blink his uninjured eye back into focus, until he was finally able to spot Remus standing across from him, an uncharacteristically glum look on his face. "You look like you're going to a funeral."

"Don't even joke about that. I don't need more thoughts about-"

"Death? I thought that was pretty par for the course."

Remus smiled wryly at him, sarcastic and mocking. "You dying, dummy. D'you think I never imagined it? Something happening and you disappearing because you never let anyone help you- and me not even knowing it happened? Finding out much too late? Being alone?"

Roman didn't know what to say to that. "Sorry." He blurted out, and this time he felt like he meant it. "If it means anything in retrospect, I wouldn't have ever let it go that far. I think."

"'You think.'" Remus repeated. "God, you need some self-care. It's a shame you and Jan-jan weren't friends before. It's supposed to be his job to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen, you know."

Roman felt himself flinch at the mention of Janus' name before he could control it. If Remus noticed, he didn't get the chance to comment on it, because at that moment Virgil came bustling back with a first aid kit.

"I didn't know what else you needed, so I got some water, balms, bandages, frozen peas, and creams. Just in case." He spoke, noticeably out of breath.

"Water?" Roman asked as a glass was held towards him. He pushed himself upright with some effort and accepted it.

"For painkillers." Virgil replied, handing him some pills once he had set the other items down. "Also your throat sounded kinda rough, and when you cry a lot you can get dehydrated, so..."

Surreptitiously, Roman wiped at his face and tried to not feel too embarrassed that the two of them had heard him wail like a toddler who'd had their favourite toy taken away. Before he knew it, he had taken the pills and downed half of the glass while the other two sides unpacked the medical supplies. Virgil really had thought of everything he might have needed.

Roman blinked as he watched them, stunned that he would go to so much effort. "This is very thoughtful of you, Medic Parade."

Virgil paused as he pieced together the nickname, and then scowled. "Mayday doesn't even sound anything like medic- and it's not. I just didn't want to- y'know- get the wrong things and make it worse."

Remus elbowed Virgil in the side, perhaps in an attempt to cheer him up. "Hey, you can't do any worse than what we did the first time Ro got a booboo."

"...And what was that?" Virgil's hesitant tone indicated he wasn't sure if he want to know.

"Nothing!" Remus grinned.

"I'm pretty sure that was just a concussion." Roman stated before Virgil got the wrong idea and thought they were totally stupid, looking upward as he tried to recall the incident Remus was talking about. It felt like forever ago now. "Not like anything could be done, to be fair."

"'Just'-" Virgil made a strange choked sound. "Is this what my life's gonna be now? Having a worry-induced heart attack every 5 minutes?"

"Welcome to the club!" Remus cheered, offering a fist bump which Virgil ignored in favour of burying his head in his hands.

"Goddammit. Alright- let's get this show on the road I guess. Roman, take your shirt off." When Remus' eyebrows started waggling, clearly about to make an inappropriate comment, Virgil waved his hands wildly to stop him. "So we can look at the damage! Shut your mouth Remus!"

"I didn't say anything." He intoned, looking overly smug before turning to Roman expectantly.

Said man frowned, placing the glass of water on the bedside table next to him. Before he made any move, he glanced at Virgil who was looking red either out of Remus-induced embarrassment or frustration. Mood. "You don't have to stick around for this part if you don't want to. It can be a bit much, so I wouldn't blame you."

"I'm not a baby, Roman." Virgil retorted, crossing his arms. "Making sure you don't die or something is way more important than my comfort. I can't promise you'll be safe from me calling you an idiot until you're better, though."

Roman looked away again. Was that condescending of him to ask? He opened his mouth to apologize, before closing it in resignation. No need to make this into an issue; he'll ask Virgil whether he felt belittled later. "...Okay. That's fair."

Instead of going through the pain of trying to remove a shirt with a possibly broken rib, he snapped and it disappeared. He heard a sharp inhale, but in response to what, he didn't know. Roman looked downwards to check. Among the remnants of previous attempts at self-healing (some messier than others), the area around his right rib was inflamed and a large portion of his stomach was splotched with purple. Noticeably, his left arm was also burning red, but luckily it seemed like the fracture there was non-displaced, which hopefully meant it would heal quicker. Other than that, there weren't any major injuries besides his black eye and bloody nose that needed attention. Could be worse, considering how god-awful he felt! 

Remus whistled. "You look like someone took a dalmatian and made it the colours of the bi-flag."

"Yeah. That's- weirdly accurate." Virgil winced. "What hurts most?"

"Uh- My arm and my ribs I suppose. They're a little... on the broken side."

"That's what I thought." Virgil muttered under his breath, grabbing the items to make a split. "I'll deal with those first, Remus you help with his nose and the bruising. And if you want to make yourself useful, hold these peas to your eye, dumbass."

"Your bedside manners are impeccable." Roman said sarcastically, taking the bag of peas and exhaling as he adjusted to the cold feeling pressed against his face. "...Here I thought there would be a grace period before you started calling me names."

"Just calling it like I see it." Virgil hummed. With deft fingers, he held the splint under Roman's forearm and began winding the bandages around it. "You should probably make an actual brace later when you're up to it, but hopefully this should keep it in place and remind you to not use it for now."

"But that sides my dominant arm-" Roman whined, about to complain about how he was supposed to get work done until Remus pinched the bridge of his nose none too gently, and he yelped. "Ow! Remus."

"Think of that as payback for the last 15 years." Remus replied lightly. "Tilt your head back."

Begrudgingly, Roman complied, resting his head against the headboard.  He stared at the ceiling as his brother and best friend silently worked their way around his injuries, applying topical ointment to his bruises and applying band-aids to small cuts. He didn't even realize they had finished until Remus bonked him on the head.

"All done! Shame it's not Halloween. You could go as a mummy again."

"Ha ha. What a comedian you are." Roman replied in a deadpan, but fought to keep a smile away anyway. The irony of how much he resembled that costume right now definitely wasn't lost on him.

"...I'm sorry for ruining that, by the way." Virgil spoke up suddenly from where he had been packing everything away, breaking the thoughtful silence he'd been in for the past few minutes. "Your costume during the Christmas video, I mean. And saying all of that harsh stuff to make a point."

Roman only stared, taken aback. "All of that happened half a year ago. I'm not upset about that."

"I know, I know. It's just... I've been thinking about it recently, all the times I haven't acted very...good." He bit his lip, averting his eyes. "Especially now, knowing that kind of thing literally hurts you."

"Virgil." Roman sighed softly, taking his hand. Virgil startled but didn't pull away. "You don't need to be 'good' all the time. Wasn't that the point you were trying to get across back then? All of us have made mistakes in our pasts, some more than others, but if you can forgive us for that, then you deserve the same acceptance for your less-than-stellar moments."

"Oh." He said, eyes glassy. His hand tightened around Roman's. "I'm still sorry, if I've ever made things worse for you or if I haven't been supportive enough."

"I- You have-"  Roman spluttered worriedly, sitting up.

"It's alright, I already know that we kinda work against each other at times. Part of the job." Roman's mouth closed with a grimace. "Still, it's unfair on you. You shouldn't be expected to perfect, especially not with an asshole like me there to tear into your work. So just...know that it's okay to tell us when you're struggling, okay?"

"Right..." Roman bit his cheek. Virgil seemed well-meaning, but showing that sort of weakness was a concept he still found difficult to accept, even if he had given in this time and allowed himself to be completely seen. Virgil noticed his lackluster agreement and patted him with his free hand.

"Hey. In almost any case we'd embrace you."

"...No one hates you."  Roman finished a beat later with a small smile. Virgil's face lit up and moved closer to his side. Upon seeing this, Remus unceremoniously squished himself between the two of them, careful not to bump against Roman too much (although Virgil definitely got the brunt of Remus crawling over him, to his dismay).

"Look at you two, my favourite dorks, bonding over feeling insecure!" He declared, throwing an arm around both of them. "Couldn't be me, but I still love you."

Roman poked Remus' side. "So that wasn't you admitting to being worried earlier?"

"Nope! New phone who dis?"

"You're insufferable." Virgil rolled his eyes fondly. "...I love you guys."

And Roman sighed contently, feeling safe and cared for. Things weren't perfect right now; he still needed time to heal and Remus and Virgil would undoubtedly want him to open up about what happened sooner or later, but for now he was was able to hear that he was loved and believe it to be true, and that was enough.

"I love you both too. Thank you."

[anotheronechicagobog]

Rangers, Lead the Way

Written by: @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: Swearing, canon compliant violence, I had to use a lot of material from the actual episode, mention of domestic abuse

tagging: @detectiveinchicago​

A/N: So, this is a new series. Basically, OA Zidan (FBI), Jay Halstead (Chicago PD), and Kenny Crosby (FBI: Most Wanted) all went to Ranger training together and kept in touch, something that was useful when they couldn’t be the one to keep their ‘partner’ safe and need to call one of the others for assistance when their ‘paartners’ are temporarily working with another member of the trio.

OA wasn't a name that he'd heard in a long time. They weren't in the same unit but they were in Rangers training together. Jay was one of the only two people there who didn't have it out for him solely because of his religion, while he was shocked to find a Muslim among the ranks at first, he quickly got over it. Not only did he trust that his superiors wouldn't let a terrorist into the army at all, let alone Ranger training, but OA was a U.S. citizen, and had a very personal hatred for everyone who sullied the name of Islam and used it for violence and their own personal gain. So he and Kenny Crosby befriended OA despite the shock and ignorance from their brothers and sisters in arms. They studied together, trained together, ate together, and bunked together. When they'd all been given different assignments they made sure to stay in touch. And they continued to call, email, and text each other after they'd all been discharged.

When Hailey got temporarily assigned to New York Jay was... Well, it's hard to describe how he felt. It was such a nightmarish combination of devastated, terrified, and heartbroken. It was like an icy hand had enclosed around his throat and was slowly squeezing, painfully closing his throat, all while his heart was being dissected out of his chest by another. Not only was he reliving one of the most traumatic moments of his life all over again, but Hailey was going to be in the field without him. She was going to be in danger without him there to watch her back.

And since Hailey was amazing, she could tell just by looking at him that his mind was dropping down into a dark place faster than Alice tumbled into Wonderland. "It's just temporary. And I'll be okay, Jay."

"Hailey..."

"I'm going to put in my time and come back as quickly as possible. It's okay. It's all going to be okay." Hailey's words didn't reassure him in the slightest. How could they, when they didn't even reassure Hailey?

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"Special Agent Zidan."

"Hey OA, it's Jay."

"Hey man, how are you?"

"Honestly, not great."

"What's wrong?"

"My- uh my partner..."

"Hailey Upton."

"Yeah. She's getting detailed out to the FBI for a bit. I found out that she's getting assigned to your unit."

"That makes sense, my partner's doing a UC detail right now, we'll probably be partnered together."

"OA... Watch out for her. Please. She is strong and more than capable of defending herself, and you quite frankly, but- she's my- I..."

"Don't worry, Jay. I'll have her back. She'll make it back to you."

"Thank you. Seriously, you have no idea how much this means to me."

OA looked at the now-empty desk that had been causing his heart to ache at the sight of it. His shoulder sagged at the pain that was pulling in his chest, the dark fog that filled his mind whenever he started to think, started to wonder, caused his head to throb. "Actually, I know exactly how you feel."

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"You will be partnered with Agent Zidan."

"Hi, I'm OA."

"Hi. Hailey."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Listen up, everyone. This is Detective Hailey Upton from Chicago PD. She will be with us for the next few weeks as part of our interagency training program."

"All right, so let's, uh, direct our attention to the screens here. Found the body of a young John Doe in St. Nicholas Park. A hundred yards from Alexander Hamilton's house. Federal land, federal case- and no, it is not where Aaron Burr shot him. The famed duel took place in-- anyone, anyone? Weehawken, New Jersey. Kristen knew. Unfortunately, there's far less clarity in the present homicide case. Evidence of torture and abuse, the victim was brown-skinned, but there was no other evidence of a hate crime. So let's dig in, get to work, start filling in the blanks. Yeah? Go."

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

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"So, Chicago PD? Should I be nervous?"

"Nervous?"

"You guys have been in the news a lot and not for good reasons."

"Uh, yeah, we've had some issues, but they're being addressed. It's a great place. I'm proud to be a part of it. The next time you want to insult me, just come out and say it, you don't need to disguise it as a compliment. This car right here?"

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just my way of saying we do things differently here."

"Mhmm."

"Just trying to keep it real." And keep you from getting hurt so that Halstead doesn't develop a full head of grey hair. "So, you spend much time in New York?"

"Nah, first time here."

"Any early observations?"

"Pizza's too thin. It's like a cracker with sauce on it. Just trying to keep it real."... Okay, so maybe it would've been nice if Jay had warned him that she had an axe to grind, but he could make do.

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"If I hear you're harassing any more immigrants, I'm gonna come back here, and I'm gonna break your arm. Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"I forwarded Kristen the pictures of Aman. She'll get us a street block number based on the license plates in the background."

"Just like that, huh?"

"The FBI, Upton. Our tech resources are pretty sick. Look, it's not a big deal, but now that you're working with us, just try and be a little bit more careful. If that guy Prichard calls the Bureau complaining that you threatened to use force..."

"Look, man, I don't need a lesson on how to talk to people, all right?"

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't get me wrong. I have no problem with someone breaking that idiot's arm, it's just... It's just that the Bureau is hardcore, and they take that stuff really seriously."

"You're right. I'm sorry. If he files a beef, I'll eat it and make sure you're clear. All right?"

"Appreciate that. But what the hell's a beef?"

"It's an expression."

"I'm kidding. Kristen said Aman's house is around this area."

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So, Hailey is a badass. That was pretty damn cool to witness. Sidenote; Jay is going to murder him.

Hailey was fine, more than fine, she actually saved his ass. But that didn't matter, Jay had trusted him to protect Hailey and hadn't failed, but he hadn't done the best job either.

They'd been searching a house, and after coming down the stairs he completely missed an assailant in the kitchen. But Hailey hadn't. No, she saw him and got him out of the line of fire. He provided cover fire while she jumped back over to the wall at the end of the stairs. OA tensed, more than usual when he was in a firefight unless Maggie was- nope, not going there, the point is, he didn't miss the way a bullet penetrated the wall a few centimetres from Hailey's head.

"Halstead."

"Don't be mad-"

"Oh god-"

"Hailey's fine. One-hundred percent fine, not even a scratch. We just, uh, we got into a shootout with an assailant. He got a shot off close to her head. She's fine- more than fine! I swear! She actually saved my ass in that altercation! And I was covering her the whole time!"

"... That's it? That's a pretty normal day for us, OA. She's okay, you're okay... So, everything, is... Okay. And seriously, thanks again, man. I can't even begin to tell you how much this means to me. I know that she can take care of herself and the others around her, but it's hard when I'm not the one there to have her six. So I really appreciate that I know and trust the person who is."

"Well, I'm glad that you're not gonna come at me like you did when I stole one of the cookies your mom made from your care package."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want a repeat of that."

"Plus, I know how it feels to... Not know. My partner is under right now and..."

"You're going out of your mind?"

"More than you can believe. I can't eat or sleep, and every time my phone buzzes I think it's a death notification instead of an emergency call from work."

"Sounds like you've got your own Hailey. You'll have to introduce me to Maggie one day."

"Yeah, I will. And Ken's definitely gonna have to introduce Hana. We have heard far too much about her to not even be able to put a face to the name."

"Tell me about it. Sometimes I regret our 'no search' rule, but then I remember how much we embarrass each other."

"By the way, thank you."

"Huh? For what?"

"For saving my ass back there. In the house."

"Oh. Okay. Cool. You're welcome."

"Halstead, how much do get shot at, exactly?"

"Why are you asking?"

"She pushed me out of the path of a bullet and when I thanked her afterwards she treated it like it was nothing."

"... I mean, there's not exactly a whole lot I can do about people trying to kill us..."

"Jay. Dude."

"I can try to stop being 'idiotically reckless' as Hailey calls it, but I'm not trying to be a hero or a dumbass or anything, it's just that... If it's not me getting hurt..."

"...It's her."

"Yeah."

"We're both whipped, aren't we?"

"Oh, ridiculously whipped. The desk Sergeant at my precinct is constantly making fun of me for it."

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"Just got ballistics back on the slugs fired at OA and Upton. They match the bullets that killed Aman, but get this; they also match the bullets pulled from a drive-by murder victim two months ago."

"Could they ID a suspect yet?"

"Yeah, arrested him too. Name is Santiago Gonzalez, known associate of the Latin Players. He's being held at MDC pending trial."

"Latin Players. That's a Chicago gang."

"Hmm, looks like they're expanding."

"So the Latin Players killed someone, they get arrested, go to jail, and the gun

stays on the street."

"And the new owner uses said gun to kill Aman, a studious Indian engineering student?"

"Right. What are we missing? How are these two murders connected?"

"Have OA and Upton pay a visit to Inmate Gonzalez. Maybe he can help us answer that question."

"Right."

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"So this guy, Gonzalez, is originally from Chicago. Runs with the Latin Players, so maybe you should take the lead on this one. But go hard on him." Hailey and Gonzales were from the same city, same blood, this was her turf, and OA wanted to make sure that he abided by that.

"You want a reaction?" Hailey seemed to get exactly what he meant, what he wanted, but she also seemed hesitant, like she needed more than clarification. It was like she needed permission.

"A big one. Big enough to force him to call his people."

"I think I can do that." And just like that, she had a smirk in her voice and was walking ahead of him. OA could see the wheels turning in her head and a coolness to her features let him know that she'd come up with a game plan. He didn't know if he should be afraid or not.

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"Where's the gun you used in the drive-by?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." They were less than a minute into the interrogation and he was already annoyed. Why did these guys always have to be so smug? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and just let Hailey do her thing, only popping in to keep the flow going. "One of your friends used it to kill a civilian last night."

"Used it again this afternoon on us. Fired off ten rounds."

"Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about." OA had to hold in a sigh.

"You're staring 20 to life on the case you're riding. Give us the name of the person you gave the gun to, and maybe I'll be able to get you a reduced sentence."

"Get my ass, blondie." OA quickly debated the pros and cons of stepping in. Honestly, this guy would probably just make him angrier with his smug attitude and sexist remarks, plus Hailey wasn't even phased. She was still in control, and she actually seemed a little... Bored.

"I'm not a fed like him. I'm Chicago police."

"So what?"

"Means I play by different rules. Also means I know the names of all the shot callers in the Latin Players. Tomorrow morning, we're gonna do a warrant sweep. Means a lot of people you know are gonna get arrested."

"That's not my problem."

"But it is. Because I'm gonna make sure that they know you are the snitch who gave them up."

"Now, you know nobody's gonna believe that."

"Really? Because in my experience, pissed-off bangers don't do their homework, and if they think you're a snitch, you're a snitch. In the street, rumours become facts like that."

"I'm done talking."

"Alright."

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"So you think he believed us?"

"I don't know. What?"

"Nothing, you just reminded me of my partner, Maggie, in there."

"Oh."

"In a good way."

"Then thank you."

"Can you cue up the audio feed?" The prison guard nodded back at OA and did as he asked.

"So where is your partner?"

"Uh, she is on an undercover assignment. That I know absolutely nothing about besides the fact that she is gone and unreachable."

"That's gotta be pretty tough."

"Yeah, but she's really good, so she'll be fine."

"We're up." The guard unmuted the computer and moved out of the way so that he and Hailey could see it clearly.

"Yo, just say the word, man. Chicago about to throw that heat."

"What are you talking about?"

Gonzalez sighed. "Police and FBI here sweating me, man."

"About what?"

"That piece that I left behind. I'm guess it's all connected to what happened on the night at Highbridge Park."

"All right, thanks for looking out."

"No doubt."

"Can you trace the number that he called?" OA was ansty, ready to get moving fast before their lead disappeared and from the honed in look in Hailey's eyes he could see she felt the same.

"Payphone up in Washington Heights." The prison guard was curt and efficient, exactly what they needed and OA was silently grateful.

"Okay. Thank you."

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"I'm guessing that's his girlfriend."

"Hold on. I talked to her at the park, right before we found Ernesto's body." From the way her body tensed OA could tell Hailey wasn't happy she'd let this girl slip through her fingers. He could tell her that it wasn't her fault, no one was even remotely aware of this connection, but he knew that was pointless. Any passionate law enforcement officer would beat themselves over something like this, himself included.

"Ah, and we have a hit off of social rec. Her name is Harper Quinlan, 23 years old, last known address is 84 Groton Street, Queens, New York."

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"Why were you at the park?" OA sat across from the young woman, dead set on getting all the information she knew. Arman's murder was quickly dissolving into a larger more horrifying crime and he was worried that the poor man who this had all started with would be forgotten and he didn't want to think about why that enraged him so much.

"I told you before. I was walking."

"Or was it to recover the glove that Lucas dropped after he killed his drug supplier?"

"I don't know anything about that."

"We have video of you in the driver's seat of Lucas' Range Rover at Highbridge Park the night that Lucas killed Ernesto Garcia, so you are now an official suspect in a murder investigation. That means no more lying, no more protecting your boyfriend. You either cooperate with us here and now, or you go to prison."

"I'm not gonna help you ruin Lucas' life. I just won't. He's a good person."

"Harper, good people don't sell drugs or kill people."

"Yeah, you don't know him like I do. He's so nice, and... he's sweet... He really loves me."

"Lucas isn't who you think he is, Harper. Protecting him will only get you and more innocent people hurt. Tell me why you think he was in the park that night."

"I'm not gonna help you."

"Are you listening to what I'm saying to you? You're a suspect in a murder investigation here. Lying to protect him makes this worse. You're putting more lives at risk. Be smart. Tell me why you were there that night. Harper, you don't need to go to prison for him." OA knew he wasn't getting anywhere and was trying to think of some other- any other method- to try and get Harper to talk, when Hailey burst into the room. She looked calculated, like she had a plan or idea that needed to be executed exactly or else the worst might befall those she was trying to protect. Which, if he read her character right, was everyone.

"Unlock it."

"What's going on?" Harper was just as confused as he was, but he knew better than to show it.

"Do it. Pull up your texts."

"Oh, my God."

"What does it say?" Hailey already knew, that much was obvious, but whatever was going on needed to be as brutally real as possible to Harper, and voicing it out loud would drive whatever was going on home for Harper.

"'Return the product, or he's dead. You have four hours. Tell your man to meet us at the place we did our first deal.' Oh, my- oh, my God." Harper's sobs quickly took up the space of the interrogation room, it didn't matter that she hadn't seen her father in so long, losing him would devastate her, and the Latin Players knew that well.

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"Let me take a run at her. I might have an angle to play." OA watched Hailey carefully, trying to make out was she was thinking, what angle she could possibly have, but he hadn't known her nearly long enough for any of that. There was this... Knowing glint in her eyes, and a sort of dark confidence had taken over her aura. She was confident in whatever plan she had, obviously, he just had no way of predicting what it was. In that moment, OA could really see what made Jay all twisted over her. She didn't look excited to break the accomplice of a drug dealer, or eager to impress the FBI. She looked like she was ready to get elbow deep in someone else's mess just for the sake of protecting as many people as possible with her quick wit and razor-sharp intelligence. So he just inclined his head and got ready to watch her work from the other side of the glass.

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"You're in a tough place right now, Harper. We have video of you at the scene of a murder, which makes you an accessory. You're looking at 15 to 20 years in prison. But if you cooperate, we can help you. We'll talk to the prosecutor, explain why you were there, help him understand the nature of your relationship with Lucas."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know what's going on. He hurts you, doesn't he?"

"No. That's not true. He's a good guy-"

"No, he's not. What are those bruises on your neck? You tried to cover them up, but I can see them. When you first met, I bet he was great. You guys hit it off, you had fun. He was everything you wanted. But then he started chipping away at your friends and your family. So you pop a pill to numb the pain and tell yourself everything's okay, just hoping that the abuse is gonna stop. Harper. It won't. I talked to your dad. He loves you very much. And he needs you right now. He's in a lot of danger. If these guys don't get their drugs back, they will kill him. The only thing that matters now is you helping us to find Lucas, so we can recover the drugs and find your dad." Watching Hailey in the interrogation room really was something else. From the slight waver of her tone, the palpable understanding in her voice that seemed to wrap a crying Harper in the first hug she's had in a long time, he could tell that she was exposing a pain-filled part of herself to this- this girl, this accomplice in drug dealing and murder. And still, she was able to remain professional and in control, and OA could honestly say that her incredible ability to do her job both made his heart ache for her and impressed him far more than he thought she would.

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They were in the surveillance van, waiting for Harper and the SWAT team to get in to place. What OA was itching to ask her was highly personal. He did not expect her to feel comfortable talking to him about it, but she'd given Harper some of her strength and after revealing something so heart-wrenching, the protective Egyptian older brother in him needed to make sure that she'd left enough for herself. "So, how do you know so much about abuse? I am sorry, I did not mean anything by that."

"No, it's fine. It's all good. Everyone becomes a cop for a reason. I guess that's mine."

"Uh, yeah."

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"Don't forget, Harper. He wants the cash to get out of town, but we need the location where he first met his dealer. That's where your dad is." OA nodded along to Hailey's instruction, keeping a critical eye on the emotionally distraught Harper.

"Babe. They took my father."

"What are you talking about?"

"That guy that you deal with, they grabbed my father and texted me that they're gonna kill him unless we return the drugs that you took."

"Oh, no, no. I can't- I can't do that."

"They took my father!"

"Look, I feel bad, but they will kill me. Oh, Jesus, don't-"

"Lucas."

"Don't give me the sad eyes look."

"Lucas."

"I'm screwed. Look, I gotta look out for me- for us, you understand?"

"Look, I need to know where you and Ernesto did your first deal 'cause that's where they wanna meet."

"I just told you, I'm not going-"

"I will go! I'll call my uncle. He has a lot of money. Maybe I can negotiate a deal or something."

"I gotta get moving, all right, so give me the money."

"Where did you meet him?"

"Stay strong." Hailey could see her waver, could see her lose her ground and need someone to keep her steady. "Location first, then give him the money."

"Lucas. Lucas. Lucas!"

"I'll call you later on, all right?" Lucas, being the selfish douchebag that he is, grabs the bag of money and moves to book it, leaving his girlfriend who needs him behind.

"Damn it. Move in now!" OA sounded the call and immediately all agents left their posts and honed in on Lucas.

"Lucas!"

"You lying sack of..." Lucas, in an effort to prove that he really is a stellar guy, pulls out a gun and starts shooting at the agents, causing panic and fear in the civilians around them. Really, Harper? This guy?

"Get down! Get down!" Hailey pulled Harper out of the line of fire and pushed her to the ground before covering her with her own body, amazing OA with her selflessness yet again. You really picked a good one, Jay.

"Move, move!"

"Drop it!" Scola had joined them when Lucas went for the kill, forcing OA to do the same. Only OA was a good shot, though.

"Lucas! Lucas! Lucas! Lucas..." Harper couldn't stop calling for him, and OA was certain that the only reason she hadn't crawled over to his body was that Hailey was holding her in place. "It's okay." Hailey seemed to be stuck on repeat, comforting Harper. OA personally couldn't see how someone who had been abused would mourn their abuser... But then again, he thankfully had never had to suffer through that. Unlike Hailey.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------"Sounded like he was ready to hit the road, so I'm guessing his dope is close by. Nothing back here." OA went to the Range Rover with Scola to look for anything- finding the drugs would've been preferable, but as long as it was a tangible clue, they could call it a win.

"Yeah. There's nothing here either."

"Any luck?" Hailey approached them, her I-know-something-that-you-don't-but-don't-worry-I'll-tell-you plastered on her face.

"Nope. Nothing."

"You have the keys on you?"

"Yeah."

"Here, let me try something. Hop in. Shut the trunk." Hailey closed the driver's door, started the engine, pushed a button on the stereo and on the car door. A drawer illuminated by blue light opens, containing the missing drugs.

"I already pushed it. Nothing happened." Scola sounded mildly insulted, but OA just chuckled internally.

"Okay, Chicago." He was impressed, and he wasn't going to hide that. He was also going to give Jay a call later to tell him to ask her out already. There's no way a woman this amazing stays single for long.

"I have a CI who installs these things. Engine has to be on and doors closed in order for it to open."

"Okay, we got the dope. Now we just gotta figure out where to deliver it to."- OA

"Yep."

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"We have Lucas' texts from the phone he was carrying since Harper said he started doing business with the Latin Players about a month ago-" Kristen was leading their group of field agents and Jubal towards the front desks, explaining what she found, and while normally they would have totally enjoyed her explaining just how smart she is, things were a little time-sensitive.

"Yeah."

"We need to scrub that time period."

"There, on the 28th. There's a text that says, 'Meetings at 2. Let's do 9 instead of 8.'" One of the analysts pulled the info onto the computer screen in front of them, showing them the text records.

"'Let's do 9 instead of 8'? But the meeting's at 2:00. Is that some sort of code?" Jubal's mind was whirring away with Kristen's, figuring out exactly what it meant.

"Well, here's Lucas' GPS data from that day around that time." Kristen worked her magic so that Jubal could work his.

"All right, so from 1:37 to 3:12, he was in Brooklyn down by the river. Kris, can you zoom in? Get a more specific look at this. Yeah, over here. Can you drill down right there?"

"Okay."

"They met at 2:00 at a dock. Pier nine instead of pier eight. That's the meeting place." Scola voiced it out loud, like he was still in thought and hadn't had time to put all of the pieces in place internally first.

"There it is." Jubal's prideful voice made OA smirk.

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"We've got 67 minutes to get the drugs down to pier nine. Unfortunately, the guy we need to deliver the drugs is at the city morgue." Isobel voiced the dreadful obvious from her office, forcing them all to sigh and start their plan to catch Arman's killer from scratch.

"I'll go under as Lucas' friend. I'll give him the coke in exchange for Harper's dad." Hailey volunteered herself, but not with the same gusto she'd been working the entire case. Something was off and OA's 'spidey senses' were giving him no peace.

"No. These guys have done their homework. They're not gonna buy that." OA knew he made a good point, but he hoped that no one saw the way his shoulders went rigid.

"I get it, but I think I can pull it off."

"No, I agree with OA. It's too risky." Isobel agreed with him and OA felt like he could breathe again, he promised Jay that he'd watch her back, something he couldn't really do if he was watching her not with her. And if he were honest with himself, he'd become a little attached to her in the time they'd been partnered together, hoping that they would become friends.

"So we need a plan C."

"Let me do it. He's my father. I'm the one who got him into this awful situation. So let me do it. Let me do something meaningful. Something that will make me feel good about myself... Please. Gotta let me do it." Harper looked at Hailey, not even acknowledging the rest of the room.

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"You're gonna do great. Just follow the plan we laid out."

"He doesn't get the second bag until you see your father."

"Right. Got it."

"And if your dad's not at the meeting place, you tell the man to bring him there. He'll say no. You stand your ground." Hailey seemed to be offering more comforting advice.

"You have more leverage than you think. This dope is worth a lot of money, and that's all they really care about." While he seemed to be offering more calculated advice.

"It's okay to be nervous. They'd be suspicious if you weren't. You good?"

"I'm good."

"Okay."

"Okay. Here we go."

"Alpha team in position."

"Where's Lucas?" The gang leader, covered in tattoos was menacing as he approached.

"He sent me instead."

"And my product? There's only one kilo here."

"The other four are close by."

"Close by doesn't do me no good."

"Show me where my father is, and I'll get you the other four."

"Don't get cute with me, mama. I'll cut your throat. Go get my dope."

"Let's get ready to move in."

"No, no. Give her a chance."- Hailey was confident, but OA couldn't help but side-eye her. Wondering just what made her so sure.

"You trying to get your dad killed? 'Cause, that's what's happen if you keep playing."

"I need to see him."

"He's alive. I promise."

"I need proof."

"[whistles] Right over there, chica."

"Okay, we got eyes on the dad. We're good to go."

"Wait, wait, wait. Let's see if we can get him talking about Aman's murder. As soon as we see a weapon, we roll."

"Okay." OA knew that Hailey was smart, and she had been making great calls throughout this case, but he was still hesitant. An innocent man's life was in the balance, but he wanted justice for Arman too.

"Be a good girl, go get my dope. Do that, Big Papa walks. I'll go with you."

"So... So... How do I know you're not gonna kill me and my father once I give you the dope?"

"I don't kill civilians. Bad for business."

"You kill that Indian guy? He was a civilian."

"I try my best, but I'm not perfect, mama." Harper meekly retrieved the second bag from behind construction equipment.

"You did good, Harper." But 'good' wasn't enough for him. Suddenly a large silver gun was pointing at the middle of her forehead.

"FBI! Don't move!" OA lead the charge, coming out of hiding and announcing himself the second that they got confirmation that he murdered Arman they'd burst out of the van and beat SWAT to Harper, the Latin Players, and Harper's father.

"Drop your weapon now! Let me see your hands now! Put the gun on the ground! Step away! Put it down now!"

"Get on the ground! Get on the ground, now!"

"Dad!"

"Let me go! Dad! Dad! Dad!" Honestly, he didn't give the tearful father-daughter reunion much attention or thought, but he noticed that Hailey did, if only for a couple of seconds longer than necessary. He didn't know what to make of that, though.

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"Hey."

"Hey."

"I just filed my 302. Do you need help with yours?"

"Nah, I just finished."

"So, I have to admit, I wasn't so sure about you."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure about you either. But you're all right. For a fed."

"You wanna grab a beer?"

"I'm okay. You don't have to look after the new kid."

"I am pretty sure you don't need looking after. Come on, you saved my life. The least you can do is let me buy you a drink."

"For the tenth time, I didn't save your life. All right, let's grab a beer, but only if you tell me why you became a fed. I told you my reason. It's only fair you tell me yours."

"Deal."

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They didn't quite 'go out for a beer'. When OA heard Hailey's stomach throw a temper tantrum in the elevator he suggested going out for food that was accompanied by a beer. She'd agreed as long as they didn't go out for "crackers with sauce on them". OA had laughed, not even remotely or phased by Hailey's obsession with Chicago pizza. It's just another thing she shares with Jay. Besides, he wanted to take her somewhere else.

When they sat down Hailey looked around, taking it all in. Omar has been coming to this restaurant all his life. It had been open longer than he'd been alive, he'd even had his tenth birthday here. He hadn't brought Maggie here yet, not because he didn't think they were close enough, he just didn't know how she'd react to realizing that they are that close. "I hope you like Egyptian food."

"I've never had it, but I'm Greek and I know that there are a few shared foods and ingredients."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed Greek from 'Upton'."

"My parents changed it when they moved here, their name was too difficult for Americans to pronounce, and there was some... Other stuff."

"I'm familiar with 'other stuff'. Do you want any recommendations or need me to explain anything on the menu?"

"You know what? You can choose what I eat tonight. If I like what you pick, I won't tease you for it the rest of the time I'm here."

"Well, for the record-"

"What record?" Hailey laughed.

"For the record, I am completely confident in my knowledge of food so I know I'll find something you'll like. After all, it can't really be bad so long as it's not non-Chicago pizza. Right?"

OA ended up choosing a dish called 'kushari', it wasn't like the Chicago or Mediterranean food Hailey was used to but she'd loved it. OA was smiling at her, proud of his victory, Hailey rolled her eyes, smirking at his impishness. "Tell me about your partner." The question caught him off guard and for a moment he'd felt a significant crack in his walls, leaving him exposed. Suddenly all the feelings he'd been pushing back since Maggie went UC enveloped and starting drowning him. Fear gripped his heart, haunting curiousity stabbed his mind, and loneliness hooked onto his soul. "OA? We don't have to talk about her, I'm sorry I asked, I didn't mean to upset you."

"She's one of the most amazing people I know. She's smart, strong, generous, empathetic, courageous... She's honestly one of the most amazing people in my life and I love having her as my partner." Hailey looked at him the same way his sisters and mother did whenever he spoke about one of the most important people in his life. Like they were able to listen between his words and decipher another meaning to what he'd said. But like his mother, his sisters always gave him hell for it, she said nothing. I couldn't even dispute it if she did say anything.

"She sounds badass."

"She is. What about your partner? Tell me about them?" He'd narrowly averted saying 'him', unsure how she'd react if she knew just how close she and Jay really were, and just how much Jay had told him about her. She got this smitten grin on her face, and OA knew that the roles were reversed from a few moments ago when he had that same smirk and far off look in his eyes. "His name is Jay Halstead, and he's an amazing person, except for when he's getting himself shot, the reckless idiot. He would rather get shot at than get a needle which rattles me to no end, especially because he's so much more kind and intelligent than he gives himself credit for and we need him you know, alive, but still, I admire him so much. He makes me laugh and he just knows how to get to me, you know? I would... I would follow him anywhere. Wow... What is in this food? Truth serum? I'm not usually that open..." It was like he could literally see a forcefield shaping around her. Shrinking in on herself, her face hardening, hastily putting a forkful of food in her mouth. She looked at the wall behind him, pretending to be interested in the decorations, trying to pass off the slight panic in her eyes.

"Maybe it's just my charming demeanour, or that I got personal first, really personal. Or maybe it's because you needed to tell that to someone you don't see every day."

"Yeah. Maybe." She still wouldn't look at him and a tense silence enveloped them until she took a deep breath and shook herself. Light seemingly went off in her head before she gave him an absolutely devilish smirk. "I believe I was promised your origin story."

"Is that what we're calling it? An 'origin story'?"

"It is now."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Halstead."

"Get your head out of your dumb ass and ask Hailey out."

"I- OA-"

"You won't regret it, Jay. I actually think that you will regret it if you don't."

"I just don't know if I'm ready to admit anything to myself, forget Hailey."

"When does life ever wait until you're ready, man? Neither of you work in a stable occupation, and even then the universe isn't exactly known for working on anyone else's timeline. I can literally feel you aching for her from here."

"But what if I'm not good enough."

"Oh, I've only known her for a few days and I already know that no one's good enough for her-"

"Damn have you adopted her as another honourary sibling? How many do you have now? And Hailey actually knows you've adopted her, right?"

"Not important, and don't try and change the subject."

"But if no one's good enough for her, then..."

"You're too hard on yourself Jay. No one's good enough for you either. Why shouldn't two people who are far too good for the world be together? You deserve happiness, Jay. You both do, and I think telling her that you're far gone with her would be a great start."

"Thanks, man. Really."

"No problem."

"... So you think that I'm 'far too good for the world'?"

"And now I'm regretting every word we've spoken." No I don't, but your head really doesn't to get bigger.

"Nope, no take-backs. You think that I'm badass and amazing."

"I never said 'badass' or 'amazing'."

"Jay Halstead- described as 'far too good for the world' by the humble and decorated OA Zidan-"

"I also called you a 'dumbass' but whatever, goodnight Jay. And seriously, ask Hailey out."

[jaskiersvalley]

Look I knew from things my friend reblogged that you have A Gift but now I'm following you and crying every time you post because it is ALWAYS top quality and I am but a poor little goblin with Feelings. You are my favorite and I love you. (also "oh what a hairy valley it is" is fucking hilarious I laugh every time I read it)

You are my new favourite and I love you too! Especially because you find “oh what a hairy valley it is” funny. As thanks, I hope you like a bit of a twist on the Witcher Wolf Pack and their Bard in a modern setting.

Street life was harsh but the wolves had learned how to play the game over the decades. Witchers had become nothing more than myths and they had died out. Or rather, they faded from visible existence and found ways to get with the times. But nobody really wanted grizzly, musclebound men with facial scars so the wolves of Kaer Morhen were left behind by society. It wasn’t like they could get paperwork and ID needed for work and rent, so they lived on the fringes, accepted the ‘help’ of a sorcerer. It wasn’t much better, living on the streets as wolves most idiots mistook for large dogs. But at least they could slink around relatively undisturbed. They could shift forms as they needed but most of the time, they remained four legged.

They had a whole system worked out, honourable as much as thieves could be. Because they needed to steal, needed food and money to survive. The back alley that they’d pulled blankets and cardboard boxes to had become home. But they couldn’t live off things they fished out of the dumpster all the time. It was how they ended up with a range of schemes and ploys.

Easiest was the sad, scared puppy game. It was one that Lambert excelled at, looking vulnerable. If he rolled in a puddle first, he could look exceptionally pitiful. His scars showed up the least too and, as the youngest, he often got the most response. Some days he would hang around outside a food shop and whimper at those going in. The more generous humans would emerge with their shopping plus a little something for him. When something was thrown his way, Lambert would snatch it out of the air and run, hide the stash until he could haul his trophies home to share.

More elaborate was the teamwork of Vesemir and Eskel. They didn’t pull it off often because it was much more dangerous for them both. At some traffic lights where cars were slowing down, Eskel would step in front of a car and get clipped. He’d perfected the art of just getting a glancing bruise on his shoulder but it sounded impressive enough. Once the car stopped, Vesemir, in his grizzled old glory, would fling himself in front of the car with a whimpering howl. That usually got everyone’s attention, the poor old dog, shaking and quivering on the floor. It was enough of a distraction for Eskel to shift to human form and dive into the car, pulling anything of value out. They had to be so careful, not taking anything from those who obviously were in need. That was on top of the constant worry that Eskel could actually get hurt or Vesemir would get carted off to the pound. But the few times they did it, they often got enough things to pawn or, once, a shopping bag full of party food.

Geralt was too bulky to look sad in front of a shop, he got chased with a broom more often than not. He also didn’t have Eskel’s light fingers to steal from cars or Vesemir’s gravitas to look convincingly injured. What he could do though was pickpocket and steal bags. It was so easy to walk pad through a square, a stray dog nobody paid attention to. A snout in a passing pocket resulted in a mouthful of wallet. And the times someone put a bag down to look at their phone or, rarely, to pet him, he could pick up the bag and trot off without much fuss. The other thing Geralt did was trail buskers. He learned about them, knew those who were busking for fun and those who needed the coins tossed at them. Those who did it for a hobby, Geralt had no qualms about ambling up to and snuffling their things. It usually earned him a pat on the head and a laugh. It meant he could curl up with whoever it was playing and, at the end of their stint, Geralt could snuffled a little more under the pretence of curiosity. Nobody ever thought to look in his mouth to find the coins they could have sworn were there.

It was a great ploy until a new busker turned up. Geralt couldn’t get a read on him. The man looked and acted like a peacock but he smelled tired and hurting. Before Geralt could even approach him to investigate, the man was setting his instrument to the side and reaching out in invitation for Geralt to join him.

“You might need a bit of rest.” The man said and pulled a water bottle from his pack. Shoving his handwritten sign of gratitude from the plastic container, it was filled up with water instead. “It’s a warm day, I doubt there are puddles around for you.”

It turned out, the man chattered a lot when he wasn’t playing. He was called Jaskier, had no real family to speak of and loved singing. There was an art to speaking a lot without saying much and Geralt knew Jaskier was a master. In the evening, when Jaskier packed up, Geralt couldn’t bring himself to take any of his coin.

“If you’re ever in the area, you’ll always have a blanket to rest on with me,” Jaskier promised and waved to Geralt. It was only then that Geralt realised that not once did Jaskier touch him.

Once a week, Geralt sought Jaskier out. It was oddly relaxing and on his third visit, Geralt found he had actually fallen into a deep sleep, trusting this stranger to keep him protected. Of course, the others teased him about it relentlessly. Late at night when they were all sprawled in their alley with a rare treat of beer Eskel had managed to snag, they laughed about Geralt’s crush.

“Fine. You go see if you can do better,” he grumbled.

From then on, the wolves took turns and each came back suitably cowed. Eskel had taken the first chance to go see Jaskier for himself. He’d come back subdued and quiet. “He told be about his White Wolf,” he’d said. “How I must be his brother because I’m just as handsome.”

There was nothing handsome about Eskel, or so he thought. His scarring in wolf and human form had his lip pulled up and, as a wolf, he looked like he was continually snarling, teeth bared.

“He wasn’t scared,” Eskel whispered in wonder.

Unable to believe it all, Lambert went to see Jaskier next. He only came back late at night and refused to say anything. It was only later the next night that he whispered to Eskel that he’d tried to goad Jaskier into hurting him, to prove a point. And he got belly rubs instead. Which were a lot nicer than anything Lambert had experienced in a long time, so he had to slink off and think for a few hours before returning home.

Vesemir still had his doubts. His three pups might have been taken in by the singing stranger but he was suspicious. Determined to get to the bottom of their infatuation, Vesemir set out to spy on Jaskier. It didn’t go as well as planned because he was spotted and beckoned over. Even worse, there were freshly bought treats in Jaskier’s pocket, coming out to appease him.

“You look like you could be their father,” Jaskier prattled, handing over another treat. “The same noble, ancient look they’ve got. Living on the streets is no easy feat and I imagine you’ve done it your whole lives. But your pack seem wonderful. You ought to be proud of your boys.”

Vesemir would have thought it all some great, cunning plan were it not for the fact that he could smell the street on Jaskier. Obviously he’d been sleeping in hostels or the like until recently. And yet there he was with the best treats he could afford for a bunch of stray dogs who he knew to be wolves.

From then on, Jaskier enjoyed the company of a wolf beside him for four of the seven days of the week. Geralt slept on the blanket, running and eating in his sleep. By contrast, Lambert was needy, demanding attention and petting, constantly by Jaskier’s feet. Eskel liked to lie calmly and watch, sometimes he’d howl along and get laughs. Occasionally trotting off and coming back with a snack or a drink for them, clutched carefully in his mouth. The first time he presented Jaskier with a sandwich, he man had looked both scandalised and then blissed out as he bit into it like he was starving. Vesemir was by far the calmest, he watched Jaskier rather than the crowds around them, keeping track of how things changed.

“He sleeps on the streets,” he told his pups one night. “I worry for him.”

They couldn’t find Jaskier though, it was a large city and there were a lot of places to hide. By pure luck, they were settling down into a tangle of limbs, tails and fur when they heard voices.

“Just hand it over and you’ll live.” A menacing voice growled.

“I can’t give you that. It’s how I make what little money I have. I’ve already offered you everything I can!” That was definitely Jaskier.

“Along these parts, our word is law. You’ve not paid your dues and now we’re raising fees.”

There was the soft thump of someone being struck and the smell of blood. The wolves were up on their feet as one, quietly padding closer to investigate. Jaskier was on his knees, guitar behind him along with his usual pack which looked like it had been rifled through already. Opposite him were three men, one of them with a nail studded baseball bat.

“I think you need to be taught a lesson,” the man snarled and raised the bat. It arced through the air and there was the sound of it striking flesh and a sharp whine of a wolf in pain rang through the alley.

“What the fuck?”

Geralt was laid flat on the floor and panting, white fur staining red. The other three wolves were snapping and growling at the attackers while Jaskier knelt and watched in awe. Lambert jumped first, jaw latching around the wrist holding the bat and shaking his head.

In two minutes, the attackers were running, bleeding and cursing and the alley was silent save for the panting of the wolves. Eskel and Vesemir shared a look as they approached Geralt. They shifted, ignoring the gasp of surprise from Jaskier.

“You need to shift, pup,” Vesemir stroked over Geralt’s head. “Let us get a better look.”

It took a moment longer but Geralt was human once again and wheezing.

“Fuck,” he gasped, hands clenched in fists.

“Let them sort it,” Lambert murmured from just behind Jaskier, making him jump. “It’ll be okay. Geralt’s just a drama queen.”

“A drama queen with broken ribs,” Eskel grumbled. “At least the nails didn’t puncture his lung.”

In all of that, Jaskier was quiet and surprisingly unafraid. Puzzled, most definitely but he didn’t panic or run.

“Will he be okay?” he asked, soft and worried.

“He’s a strong one, survived a lot worse.” The reassurance from Vesemir lifted a little of the tension. “Why aren’t you running and screaming?”

“Why should I? You saved my life and you’re the wolves I’ve known for weeks now. It’s nice that you can talk back now.”

That seemed to settle matters somehow. And the wolves got a fourth act in their repertoire. Now, Jaskier sang and busked with the protection of a wolf by his side at all times. And, when he returned back to the alley, he always shared his bounty with the others.

“And when I get famous, you’re all coming with me. We’ll tour the world together,” he promised each night from the centre of the wolf pile. It usually earned at least one tail thump or a chuffed out wolf-y laugh. The wolves might have indulged him in such fantasies but they were the ones who had to eat their words. A talent scout did indeed pick Jaskier up. Along with his four wolves who became his bodyguards.

Part 2 here.