#maybe that play pause rewind one on his wrist??

[lego-house]

"Ed needs a see-through shirt."The footnote from nearly all his fans. You can do the fact check later. And you will astonishly find out that is a very ture statement.

I can't tell if this is something I put in my tags or you're just sharing your thoughts either way yes 100% agree

Not even in a pervy way (mostly) I'm just really curious about all the songs he has tattoos of that we'll never know about

[tsuchinokoroyale]

I mean. If a guy only tells you he's married afterward, there's nothing you can do about that, I get it. But knowingly having sex with married men is 100 percent on you. You go into a whole philosophical breakdown of how he justified it to himself; how are YOU justifying helping these men break their wives hearts?

There’s a lot of interesting differences in our perspectives that I get from this response, but let’s start with the answer. How do I justify helping these men break their wives heart? I don’t, because I don’t have anything to justify. I think of it the same way I don’t have a mental breakdown every time I buy candy from the grocery store, even though I’m excessively contributing to capitalism. Did I need candy? No, but I wanted it. If I didn’t buy the candy, would I have crashed the economy hard enough to cause the government to shift gears? Absolutely not. I’d just have gone without candy. Translated: Did I need sex? No, but I wanted it. If I didn’t, would they have given up their philandering ways and changed their lives? Probably not. They’d just find someone else (( emphasis on the fact that these men were stunning ))

I am FAR from having to bear the cross of these men cheating on their wives, especially the 100% you claim. I’ll admit I’m a dime and a half and boys do be lining down the block just to watch what I got, but that’s not really my business if I did somehow tempt them into cheating. It’s like the difference between someone actually apologizing and someone saying “I’m sorry you felt that way.” Actually apologizing in this case is synonymous to, uh, not cheating on your wife. That’s not a foregone conclusion, you can just Not Cheat. Your response is closer to the second one, akin to saying I’m enabling their cheating by having sex with them. And this is where our perspective divide is: I see no reason to take ownership of their business even the slightest. I don’t know their names. I couldn’t give less of a shit what these guys are up to now.

Let’s rewind. You are engaged/married to a wonderful woman. You don’t want to have a gay sex liaison that might jeopardize the sanctity of your relationship. Do you:

A) Download grindr and set up a profile

Or

B) Don’t

If you’ve chose A, it is no longer my business what your deal is. It’s called grindr. The old logo used to have gears because it was meant to be a meat grinder. You use it to grind meat. If we met on GoodBoysUnlimited I’d give pause but if I’m on a sex app it is for the purpose of having sex. I’m not breaking these women’s hearts, I’m engaging in my half of the agreed upon transaction. Instead of moralizing the sex, maybe moralize the 50 steps it took these men to get there?

I will say I still agree with you that it wasn’t the most morally correct choice. That would’ve been to slap these men on their wrists and say “beat it, bozo!” But I’m no angel, saint, priest, or even a wholly good person 🤭 it was hot! Here were these men who were so firmly heterosexual that they built a life around it, but saw me and wanted me badly enough to risk it all to get a piece of this? That’s an amazing ego boost! I prefer ethical non-monogamy by a wide, deep margin, where a lot of discussion happens before hand. But in this case, I was informed while they were already there. Like I’m not going to play marriage counselor to a man sitting on his knees slonking on my knob sloppy style.

I think it’s incredibly important to understand things you should and shouldn’t take ownership of. You are a person, you will make mistakes, people will feel raw about it, and you’ll end up feeling bad too. But there are also situations where people will try to make you feel a certain way about things even if it isn’t your fault. It’s a classic emotional manipulation tactic: it’s your fault I feel this way. How are you gonna take ownership for how I feel? And my answer is always: I don’t. You are going to have to definitively demonstrate my ownership over a situation in order to get a response out of me. Say guy #1’s girl came home and found her man playing mechanical bull with my dick. She says to me “This is all your fault!” I’d just say “baby girl, what’s my name?” I’d ask her man, “what’s my name?” There’d be no answer because I wasn’t in this situation as a person, I was just here to pound ass and go. I’m not even a named actor and you think I’m the main antagonist? It’s not healthy to get personally involved in everything you experience, and sex is no different. As long is everything is consensual between the parties present, go off. That’s why I think it’s funny you wrote off the second one so quickly as the morally better one. Because, ironically, the story you discounted is the one in which the answer lies. I consider it the worse of the two because I didn’t consent to being a part of that narrative. Don’t get me wrong, as I’ve highlighted above I probably would’ve shrugged and gone through with it anyways. But it highlights that the cheater is always the one that holds all the cards, even if he’s also the one that has all the chips to lose too. They can share with me whatever they want, but at the end of the day they’re the ones in charge of their own situation. I’m just a pole/hole sir 😮‍💨

[gayaristocrat]

I Got Everything I wanted...

Episode 1: Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience...

Pairing: Vision x Male Reader

Taglist: N/A

‼️Authors Note‼️: I'm finally at a point where I can write this story. I know that It is long overdue, so I hope this can make up for it. This story is going to be breaking the 4th wall a lot since they tend to do that in the actual show. Also, please let me know in my Inbox/Askbox if you would like to be tagged every time I upload a story to this series. While reading this, you may realize that it seems rushed, and that's because it was. I wanted to put this out as soon as I possibly could. Also since you guys voted that I just divide it up into parts for you to read. I will be uploading part 2 whenever I am able to.

Summary: (Male Name) and Vision struggle to conceal their powers during dinner with Vision's boss and his wife

Time Period: 1956 (So everything in this chapter is going to be colorless and in black and white)

Word count: 4k+

Word Key:

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Have you ever dreamed of living the life you always wanted? Have you ever dreamed of something so bad to the point where you would do anything to get it. Have you ever dreamed of something so bad to the point where all of your care for others went out the window? Have you ever dreamed of wanting something so bad to the point where you would stop anyone who gets in your way.

"(Male Name), I love you so much. Please don't do this, cant you see that everyone is hurting, that everyone is in so much pain?"

"I'm sorry Vision, but I can't. I can't loose you...not again. I never meant for things to be this way, but now I can't go back. Not without you"

---REWIND MANY EPISODES BACK---

For a second, everything is black. The TV clicks on and a burst of grey static illuminates the screen. Everything is black and white, not a single drop of color is in the area. A happily little tune starts playing as a colorless 1956 Buick Special drives up a tiny hill and back down past a sign which says 'Speed Limit 35'. The camera angle changes to the back of the car, showing a banner above the license plate, 'Just Married'. Next, the camera cuts to us, (Male Name) and Vision, newlywed husbands.

It finally happened, we finally got married! Both of us turn take a quick look and smile at each other with nothing but love and glee, it seemed like nothing could go wrong in this moment.

🎵Oh~

A newlywed couple just moved into town,

A regular husband and husband,🎵

Vision turns his head back to the road and continues driving until we turn down a happy little neighborhood. Each house on the street has a pattern of different color greys with black roofs, their yards decorated with equally bland colorless flowers and grass. Children playing outside, and adults chatting with one another while they tend to their gardens, or while walking their dogs. Everyone is just so cheery and happy, even the mailman waves at us as we pass him. Everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be, perfect.

🎵Who left the big city,

To find a quiet life,

(Male Name)Vision!🎵

Vision drives into the driveway of our new home. We quickly hop out of the car and approach the house, but before we walk in I take notice of the 'For Sale' sign still in the yard. I quickly flick my hand and use my magic to change the sign to 'Sold'. After that I dust my hands off with a proud smile on my face as Vision scoops me in his arms bridal style, opens the front door, and carries me inside. I flick my wrist again and the front door closes and locks as we both move to the Livingroom of our already decorated 2 story home.

🎵He's a magical boy,

In a small town locale

And a hubby who's part machine,

How will this duo fit in and pull through?🎵

Once Vision puts me back on my feet, we start swaying with the jingle playing in the background while title cards pop up of written words that I don't care to read right now since I'm too busy enjoying this happy moment with my new husband. Vision then gives me a little twirl before wrapping his arms around my waist as we both dip into a loving heartfelt kiss.

🎵Oh, by sharing a love,

Like you've never seen

(Male Name)Vision!🎵

---SCENE CHANGE---

The scene suddenly changes as the lights flick on and cameras start rolling. You start the scene off by walking into the kitchen and start making your way to one of the grey drawers next to the oven and you grab one of your favorite aprons. Humming a little tune, you wrap the white cloth around your waist and start observing the kitchen to see what needs to be picked up or cleaned. Deciding to work on putting up the dishes, you raise your hand and the newly cleaned plates start levitating off of the counters and float off to the display racks, you then raise your other hand and a dark colored dish cloth floats out of the cabinet and it begins drying a glass cup. You then turn your back to the cup to observe if it had been cleaned good enough, suddenly you jump as a loud crash echoes through out the kitchen. Turn to see what the problem is, you only to find Vision looking up from today's news paper and glances at the shattered plate at the ground while a laughing crown erupts out of nowhere.

"My husband and his flying saucers" He says in his thick English accent (or is it British🤔), with a joking tone.

"My husband and his indestructible head" I reply back in the same tone as another laugh erupts from the crowd.

He then folds his newspaper and walked over to your direction, giving you a kiss on the cheek when he arrived, causing you to chuckle while twirling your finger, making the plate form back to it's original round shape before it floats off to it's designated spot.

"Vision, honey, what do you say to silver dollar pancakes, crispy hash browns, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orang juice and black coffee?" You say while walking over to the refrigerator, opening it and bending down, getting ready to grab out everything needed to make the meal for him.

"I'd say 'Oh, I don't eat food' " He says smiling at me, while the crown laughs again.

You look inside the fridge and hum to yourself in surprise while putting all the pieces together in your head before saying "Well, that explains the empty refrigerator then"

"(Male Name), my darling. Is there something special about today?"

"Well, I know the apron is a bit much dear, but I'm doing my best to blend in and have the 'Perfect House Husband' look." You say walking to meet him, assuming he's talking about the apron.

"No no, you don't have to try, you already are the perfect house husband." He says as he lightly grabs your chin with his pointer finger and thumb and lightly giving you a 'boop' on the nose. "But I was referring to the calendar. Someone's drawn a heart right above today's date." You then looked at him as you cluelessly try to figure out what he's talking about, so he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you around to face the calendar behind you and he rests his chin on your head as you both look at the heart.

Trying to act like you know what day it is, you say "Well...d..dont tell me you've forgotten Vis?"

"Oh silly (y/n), I'm incapable of forgetfulness. I remember everything. That's not an exaggeration. In fact, I'm even incapable of exaggeration" He rambles boastfully.

"Hmm, well then if that's true, then maybe you can tell me what's so important about today's date"

He pauses for a second and thinks before he blows a slow puff of air out of his mouth, then deciding on saying "Uhhh...what was the question again? Oh well, no matter, perhaps you've forgotten yourself"

"Me? Heavens, no, haha. I've been so looking forward to it."

You both have actually been looking forward to day. Today you are celebrating...The first time you...uhhh...have ever celebrated this occasion before. It's a special day indeed, perhaps an evening?...of great significance?...to you both, naturally.. obviously...exactly! Well done for the both of you.

You two ramble on for a few more minutes trying to drill the other into spilling on what was so special about today, but you two couldn't since you were both obviously unknowing about it, then Vision remembered something.

"Well, sorry darling, that's me off to work, then." Vison says fixing his grey suit jacket and grabbing his suitcase walking to the front door. You quickly grab his hat hanging on the coat rack and place it on his head, fixing it to make it look straight.

"Also don't forget-"

"(Male Name), my dear how many times do I have to tell you I don't forg- oh you mean my face right?"

You nod letting him know that was what you were getting at. The audience laughs again as he quickly shakes his head and his face and hands transform from cold metal to warm flesh. Vision then puts his palm to his face and pretends to blow you a kiss, while you play along and pretend to catch it and put it over your heart.

Once he leaves out the door, you lock it a return to the kitchen, and make your way to the calendar, chewing on your polished nails (if you don't want nail polish then skip that part) as you try to remember the symbolism of the heart. Not even a second later your thoughts get interrupted as a loud knock at the door startles you back to 'reality'.

Going to go see who it is, you push the door that separates the living room and the kitchen, closer to the knocking. You quickly open the door and see a woman with a dark plaid dress and a styled black hairdo holding a grey plant in a white pot.

"Oh hello, dear. I'm Agnes, your neighbor to the right. My right, not yours" She says in a sing-song tone as she uninvitedly makes her way into the house. The eruption of cackles echo as you look at her in confusion as to why she decided to step inside, but decided to keep a calm attitude and not say anything about it.

"Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My mother-in-law was in town...so I wasn't!" she says laughing with the audience once more as her dress sways with her movements. She rushes the potted plant into your arms and you smile and take it as she makes her way into the living room to continue her snooping. "So what's your name? Where are you from? And most importantly how's your bridge game, hon?" She says not loosing a single breath, and of course not giving you time to answer in between questions.

"Umm...Well I'm (Male Name)" You say reaching your hand out to shake hers

"(Male Name)? Charmed!" She joyfully says and returns the gesture.

"Golly, you sure do settle fast! Yes sir you did indeed! Did you use a moving company?"

"Why I sure did. Those boxes don't move themselves." The audience laughs as your inside joke, because let's be honest, the boxes did move themselves since you used your magic to decorate everything. (Damn (Male Name), you really are a powerful sum' bitch)

'"So (Male Name), what's a single boy like you doing rattling around this big house?" She says siting on the couch.

You laugh to yourself and dreamily look at the finger your ring should be on that Vision gave you to claim you as his, (He liked it so he put a ring on it.....sorry...anyways) but paused as it wasn't there. That's not right, because you could have sworn that it was there when you created this rea-

"Oh no, I'm not single I-"

"Well I don't see a ring

"Well I can promise you, I am indeed married...To a man. A human one and tall too! A a matter of fact, he'll be home later tonight for a special occasion just the two of us." You say putting emphasis on 'occasion' with a wink.

"Oh is it somebody's birthday? A holiday?" Agnes questions bouncing up and down in the couch with her legs crossed like a 'proper lady'.

"Well, no and no"

"An anniversary then?"

"Ye-uhh...yes, Its our anniversary!" You shout, finally able to remember what that heart meant.

Agnes waves you over to come sit on the couch with her and you obey, sitting down she grabs and rests both sets of you two's clasped hands on your apron.

"Sooo...tell me, how many years" She asks letting out a little squeal.

"Well..uhhh..it...it uh feels like we've always been together"

"You lucky man-" She shakes her head remembering about her own husband "-the only way Ralph would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer names June 2nd." She chuckles as the audience laughs from nowhere again. "So what do you have planned?"

"How do you mean?" You questioned her. I mean you never really did have time to come up with anything since you just realized, or assumed, what today was.

"For your special night, (Male Name)! A young boy like yourself doesn't have to do much, but it's still fun to set the scene. Say-" she says standing up to slowly make her way to the door "-I was just reading a crackerjack magazine article called 'How To Treat Your Husband To Keep Your Husband', and let me tell you somethin'...what Ralph could really use is, 'How to Goose Your Wife So You Don't Loose Your Your Wife'. She kidd's as her and the audience laugh. You look at her and shake your head trying to hold back your own laughter. "Hang on, I'll go grab it and we can start planning. Oh, this is gonna be a gas!" She shouts running to the door so she can leave and run to her house.

-----Time Skip---

Both Agnes and you are back on the couch, looking through her magazines trying to find ideas for the anniversary dinner you planned for you and Vision to share, when out of nowhere, the phone started ringing interrupting you two. You got up and rushed over to it hoping you don't miss the unknown caller, you pick it up and put it to your ear and then start talking.

"Vision residence how may I help you"

"(Male Name), darling I-"

"Vision, my dearest husband. How are you sweetheart?" You say cutting him off from his obviously panicked and frantic voice. I mean come on, you are just excited to hear your husband's voice after a hours of him being gone.

"Listen about tonight-"

You cut him off again, already knowing that he was going to talk about the anniversary. "Don't worry, dear, I have everything under complete control"

"Oh, well, that is a relief. I must confess, I'm really rather nervous" He says over the phone.

"Nervous? Whatever for?" You question.

"Well, you know, darling, I still get a little tongue-tied."

The audience coo's and aww's at how a dust of grey creeps up on your (dark grey/grey) cheeks. "Vis, after all this time..." you giggle out.

"There's a lot riding on this (Male Name)! If tonight doesn't go just so, I think this could be the end.

'Wait what' you think to yourself

"Well, it's just one night. There's no need to get dramatic." You say in a worried tone as you grasp your now queasy stomach.

Vision's tone begins to get more serious as the conversation continues in his attempt to express how important this is to you. "Look, I think the best course of action is to impress the wife."

"Well, first, I think you mean husband. And secondly I also think the best course of action is to impress the other husband too." You look over and give Agnes a thumbs up and a wink in her direction, and she does the same while sipping her martini.

"Glad to know we're both on the same page, love. Until tonight, then, my sweet little husband" Vision says making two smooching noises through the phone to you.

"Until tonight...my robotic husband" You return, whispering the last part so Agnes doesn't hear you. She couldn't hear you anyways, being too busy sipping her drink and flipping through the pages. You finally gently put the phone on the hook and return to the couch.

---Time Skip, Later Tonight---

Before Vision made it home, you set the big dining table that was next to the living room and tossed colorless silk scarfs on all of the laps in the room to set the mood and made your way to the bedroom to get dressed to surprise him for when he gets home. When you heard the door open and heard his voice, you tip toed your way out of the bedroom and into the living room, dressed a long fluffy white lingerie robe with white fur that wrapped around the arms of it which was trailing behind you, exposing both of your (dark grey/grey) legs. You then went all the way to Vision's black silhouette and gently wrapped your hands around his eyes, causing him to jump form the sudden contact.

The audience laughed again as they know your mistake. 'Where the hell is that laughing coming from, and whey is it happening right now of all times?' you thought to yourself in confusion.

"Guess who~" you seductively whispered to your husbands.

Suddenly the lights turn on and you hear Vision's voice that was filled with a mix of shock, embarrassment, and irritation at your recklessness. "(MALE NAME) WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

You gasp and look in his direction. "Vision? What are you-" then it hit's you, if Vision is right there, then who's-

"Oh! Oh my stars, I'm so sorry!" You say to the man you mistook for your husband. You quickly uncover his eyes and stumble away from him as he stares at you in shock. Then you look down at your attire and try to cover your exposed leg as much as possible.

"What is the meaning of this!" The bald headed mad says appalled, as his wife stands behind him looking around cluelessly.

Vision interrupts with his stammering voice just as confused as everyone else. "Well..uh yeah (Male Name) what is the meaning of-" Suddenly it hits him and he tries to comes up with an excuse off the top of his head. "-Oh, the meaning of it! You want to know the meaning of it...and...the meaning of it is...that this is the tradition of (Random Foreign Country/Continent) greeting of hospitality. Uhh...guess who???" Vision says as he runs behind you and overs your eyes.

"Oh is that my host being me?" You say playing along.

"It certainly is, darling. Lovely to make your acquaintance" Vision says vigorously shaking your hand. "See i forgot to tell you my husband is from (Random Foreign Country/Continent)" he giggles along with the audience.

"Oh, how exotic!" The man's wife cheerfully laughs.

"I never knew such a place as that existed" He says in a dark yet serious tone.

"Oh hush Author, have you no culture. Oh and the robe, I absolutely love it!" His wife replies trying to lighten up the awkward mood.

"Thank you so much ma'am-" you march through the living room and snatch off the silk scarves from all the lamps and tightly grab Vision's hand. "-Can I just see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?"

You both then slam your way through the kitchen door and it swings closed behind you, leaving Vision's boss and his wife behind as they sit down on the couch and patiently (more like impatiently on Arthur's end) wait for your return. You then turn around and look at each other before throwing questions.

"Who are those people?!"

"What are you wearing!?"

"Why are they here?"

"What are you wearing!?" Vision questions again boldly

"Well, it's out anniversary, that's why I'm wearing this!"

"Our anniversary of what?" Vison says, desperate to know what the hell you were talking about. Eventually you had enough of these shenanigan's and throw the scarves down at his feet stomping your way to the kitchen chairs. "Well if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" you exaggerate, crossing your arms and pouting like a child

"(Male Name), darling! That...that man through there is my boss Mr. Hart! And his dear lady wife Mrs. Hart! The heart on the calendar was an abbreviation!" Vision whispers, roughly tapping his hand on the black heart drawn on the dull colored calendar.

You grab your head and shake it trying to put everything together. "Vision sweetie, you move at the speed of sound and I can make a pen float through the air. Who. Needs. To. Abbreviate!?"

Vision grabs both of your shoulders in an attempt to collect his thoughts and calm you down. "Darling, listen, it's all romantic to do the candles, the music, that stunning outfit. I don't wanna be unappreciative, but right now-"

"Your boss and his wife are expecting a home-cooked meal. Correct?" Vision nods his head while muttering 'exactly' while look around the kitchen in order to find somethin to serve to the unwarned visitation of guests. After looking around for a but, your eyes land on the mini round table that held a plate and food on it. "Well, does your boss and his wife have a hunger for a single chocolate-covered strawberry, split three ways?" Vision hisses while clenching his fists and shaking his head no.

"Oh wait, I might have better ideas" Without hesitation you raise both of your sands and snap your fingers, magically changing your outfit to the one you were wearing earlier that day, a pair of dark high waisted cuffed slacks and a white blouse to match (you can change if you don't like), and the audience claps in astonishment at your transformation whilst you tie your apron in a bow behind your back. Vision gives you a quick peck on the cheek and runs back to the living room to keep others company while you figure out what to serve everyone.

---Time Skip---

After minutes of looking, you couldn't find anything in the kitchen, and the refrigerator was empty, so you decided to call your good neighbor Agnes to see if she could pick up some things from the store and bring it over. A couple of minutes pass and you finally hear a familiar knock on the back door in the kitchen. As soon as you open it Agnes rushes through with her hands full of groceries stacked to her chin as she stumbles through the kitchen. Before you could even mutter out a 'thank you' she stops you dead in your tracks and puts all the food down on the table. "Before you can say anything don't think about it. I mean, what kind of housewife would I be if I didn't have a gourmet meal for four just lying about the place. Not that Ralph wants to eat anything other than baked beans, which explains a lot about his personal appeal, mind you." The audience laughs one more at her silly humor as you quickly render to her aid to grab some of the groceries before they could fall. Unfortunately, it seems like the Universe was not on your side since the large cooking pot crashed and hit the ground, echoing throughout the kitchen, while Agnes yelled out an overexaggerated 'oh my'.

You had to get rid of Agnes and as quickly as you can, so you decided to just push her out the back door despite her protests to help you cook. "Thank you so much Agnes but I can take it from here-"

"Are you sure dear, many hands make light work. And many mouths make good gossip too!"

"Oh ahahaha, you are so naughty! But-"

"Oh, shall I preheat the oven then? hmm?"

"That won't be necessary, thank you for your time!"

Somehow she managed to escape your grasp on her waist and make her way back to the counter to crab some kitchen tools to start cooking for you. "Well, I know you're in a pinch so this menu can be done in a snap." She says snapping her fingers before continuing her rambling. you run back over to her and snatch the utensils from her, setting them on the counter, and grabbing her arms to march her back to the door. "Lobster Thermidor with mini-minced turnovers to start. Chicken à la King with twice-cooked new potatoes for your second course, and Steak Diane with mint jellies for your main. Oh wait! Do you set your own jellies, dear?"

"Yes Agnes I do, now can you please-"

"Ah there you go, good boy! Recipe cards are all on the counter there. Bon Appétit!"

"Haha, yes will do, thank you so much again Agnes! Bye now!" You say slamming the door, making the audience laugh at your exhausted expression. Now that she's gone, you run to the middle of the kitchen and throw your arms around, making all of the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen fly open, the dishes start floating out, and the food starts cooking. Out of no where the doors to the island bar swoop open to show Mrs. Hart, but before she could see Vision distracts her by breaking out and singing Yackety Yack by The Coasters, causing her to break out into a little dance, making her way back to the couch. Dear gods and goddess', how lucky are you to have a savior like him.

But little did you know, that the night was only just beginning.

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Finish the fic? Leave a like and comment if you enjoyed it. Also, give it a reblog too! Once again, I'm so sorry it was rushed! Please don't be afraid to let me know if there are any typos or errors. I will go back and edit this

[misterghostfrog]

39 FOR THE PROMPTS PLEASE AAAAA

LOOK OK, i’m going to start by saying this one... got away from me a little bit. And I didn’t originally mean to combine the prompts, and neither are technically correct. BUT consider you can’t stop me

39. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

30. Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

Cw; This takes place after the unknowing but before Jon wakes up in canon, and Martin starts in a rough headspace. Also accidental compulsion.

(This is actually a sorta part-2 to the pre-unknowing ficlet I did! Tho u don’t gotta read it to understand it works as a standalone too. Anyway welcome to the AU ZONE)

EDIT: fixed a typo

Martin usually visits Jon on Thursday.

He used to visit every day. But the nurses began to give him looks after the first month, and it was hard to balance checking on Jon with regular life things like groceries, laundry, and work. So he’s cut back. If only to preserve his sanity.

He considered Sunday. But Sunday is the day he visits his mum, another thing that has been hard to balance with- well. Everything. Besides, it’s hard to stack that much heartbreak into one day.

The receptionist gives him a funny look. He would give himself a funny look too, he looks a wreck, he knows it. She knows him, so seeing him on a wednesday looking like he crawled out of the back end of hell. Or maybe just hasn’t done any laundry for a few days. Or showered. And got in a fight and lost.

He’s already waited too long though, he thinks. He... well. It’s his last chance, he supposes. If Jon isn’t coming back, then...

Yeah.

It’ll be for the best.

He turns the knob on the door, he knows what he’ll say. Even if he’s talking to a dead man he needs a speech apparently. And-

He bounces off of something- or someone. Who trips back a step in turn.

“Oh god- I’m so sorry-” He says almost automatically.

“No, don’t worry about it I wasn’t-”

“I wasn’t even looking where I was going a-and-”

“Really it’s fine-”

The man isn’t a nurse, Martin’s sees that much. He’s tall-ish. Handsome, certainly. Definitely no-one he’s ever met. And certainly no-one he thinks might have a reason to visit Jon. Not that Jon shouldn't get handsome visitors, but- well. He doesn’t- didn’t? Have many people outside of the institute he ever talked about. And so this guy turning up out of the blue is... well.

“Er- I’m sorry, but who... who are you?”  He’s not- he’s not upset. that this random stranger is visiting Jon. It’s just weird is all. Yeah. Really weird, actually.

“Oh! I- I’m- I’m a friend of Jons.” The man says with an awkward smile, his eyes darting down to his shoes for a moment as he says it. “Er- Antonio.” He tacks the name on like an afterthought. This time his gaze flicks somewhere around Martin's shoulder, he shuffles on his feet.

Martin’s never been an expert at picking up on lies, not to say he’s bad at it. He just doesn’t find it something to worry about generally. But it’s hard not to notice when ‘Antonio’ is basically holding an imaginary blinking neon sign that says ‘I AM LYING’ with accompanying metaphorical Morse code with the same message.

He swears he’s heard that name before though.

“Oh. Er- he’s never um, talked about you?” he says carefully.

“Oh, yeah. Very old friends. Haven’t um- talked in a while.” ‘Antonio’ waves a hand awkwardly. And casting consistent looks towards the elevator.

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway! I’m uh- I’ll be going now. Visits over stuff to do y’know.” He’s already walking away as he says it, backing up for a moment and casting a quick wave before trotting away down the hall.

“Oh, y-yeah. Sure, bye?” Martin waves- though ‘Antonio’ isn’t looking. Watching as he basically runs down the hall.

“Bye!” ‘Antonio’ throws over his shoulder as he turns the corner to the elevators.

Well then.

“Huh.”

That’s not how he thought this visit was going to start.

He pauses for a moment. He’d been working off of something of a momentum. Check in with the nurse, make his speech. And be ready to say his goodbyes. But that... whatever just happened. Well, it threw him off.

He sighs.

It doesn’t matter. Weirdo visiting Jon. Seems about right, actually. If he thinks about it. Probably left a statement somewhere too, just to complete the weird weird picture.

The word ‘weird’ is starting to sound less like the a word the more he thinks about it.

He pushes the door to the hospital room open, he knows he’s imagining it. But the air feels heavier. The dread of the situation. The finality. Jon is still there, unmoving in his hospital bed. There's several machines tucked into the corner, they’d unhooked him from everything after the first month when it became clear that this is simply his state of being. That’s also about the time the nurses started telling him Jon probably wasn’t waking up.

He’s not going to wake up. Martin knows he’s not going to wake up. He’s been fooling himself for so long but now with the flesh attack he needs to do something. Or at the very least stop feeling like he’s doing nothing. But being miserable isn’t a solution either. 

Maybe there is no solution. Maybe it’s just, problems. Stuff he can’t fix or deal with and just- has to let it follow him until he dies.

He shifts, and his ankle twinges.

He’d tripped. It’s so stupid, it wasn’t even the monsters. He’d just- fallen and ended up hiding in a side room while everyone else dealt with meaty things crawling out of the floorboards. Just sat and hid and did nothing.

He’s tired of doing nothing.

Jon snores, interrupting his train of thought.

Martin smiles, god he’d forgotten Jon did that. Those little snorting snores- he’d only heard them a few times, back at the institute. It had scared the hell out of him the first time he’d been living-

Wait.

What?

Martin blinks. And watches as Jon scrunches his nose, making a small irritated noise- and turns over.

What.

His head skips, rewinds. Plays what he just saw back. Jon is breathing, how long has he been breathing? Doesn’t matter, he’s breathing which means he’s alive but what-

That weird guy. “Antonio”

He’s gone, Martin knows he’s gone. But he checks anyway. Even running all the way to the elevators. But he’s gone.

And Jon...

Jon is alive.

The thought hits his brain, and then slips away like a wet fish. There’s no guarantees. This could be a fluke, this could be a trap. It might not even be Jon. Just... something that looks like him, and snores like him. And-

A nurse taps him on the shoulder. And he realizes he’s been staring at the elevators for, well, he doesn’t know how long. Long enough to catch several concerned glances from passers-by though.

“Are you alright sir?” She asks, politely. He recognizes her, he chatted with her once when visiting Jon. She’s nice. She does the check ups a lot of the time, one of the few who’ll actually do it.

“He’s alive.” He says flatly, instead of answering. Because he’s not sure what the answer to the question is anyway.

The doctors do tests, though not many. According to them he’s fine. Fit as a fiddle aside from some fatigue and a little confusion. Which clearly makes them uncomfortable. Which he understands. A man wakes up from a three-month coma like he’d just rolled out of bed on a Monday morning? It makes him uncomfortable too, he thinks.

Basira drops off a statement. ‘Just felt like I should’ she’d said when he asked why. And neither of them felt particularly good about that answer.

After the statement he’s fine, not even fatigued. He’s alive.

He keeps looking at Martin.

Martin isn’t sure why he doesn’t want to look back.

Maybe it’s because it still feels like a trap, all of a sudden he comes back with no- no fanfare no effort. Right as rain and just... there.

Nobody else wants to deal with him right now- not after he just pulled a Lazarus like that. Jon wants to go to the institute. But Martin isn’t having it. He just woke up from a three-month coma. He’s going home. And yes- his lease apparently expired before the unknowing, so he doesn’t have a place to stay. And yes the only person willing to give him a place to stay is Martin. And Martin... well, it’s Jon. and even if it wasn’t, in the wake of losing three months of his life- and a friend. Or someone who had been a friend at a point before this all went to hell. He wouldn’t leave him alone for anything.

Martin tries to force himself to come to terms with it as they both climb into his car- this is what he wanted. He should be overjoyed. But it feels... it feels like if he looks at Jon for too long he’ll just... disappear. Or stop breathing again. Or stop being Jon.

“Good to see not too much has changed while I was gone.” Jon says wryly as he wrestles with the seatbelt. Which squeaks as he struggles to pull it out far enough to actually fasten it.

Martin just hums in response. Not trusting his voice not to betray whatever it is he’s feeling right now.

The drive to his flat is mostly quiet, aside from a few awkward attempts at conversation from Jon that all fall miserably flat. Eventually he gives up, and the rest of the drive is spent in silence. 

It’s not too far from the hospital to his flat. So before he knows it he’s leading Jon up the steps to his home.

It’s not much, he knows. Can’t afford anything truly fancy when carrying medical bills around. But it’s nice, homey. He hopes.

“Home sweet home.” He says, dropping his keys on the table by the door and hoping he sounds cheery. Because he doesn’t know what else to be right now. He’s figured out what emotion he’s feeling, though he’s not sure it counts as an emotion honestly.

Numb. 

Stupid, isn’t it? 

“The bathrooms down the hall- I think your stuff’s all in storage at the moment,” his voice wobbles at that, he swallows “so we’ll have to go get that soon. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge-” He’s stopped by a hand on his wrist. Familiar, too-thin, and cool.

“Martin.” Jon says. “Did I... did I do something to upset you?” It’s a question, small and helpless. Martin just wants to brush it off, he’s fine. He just needs time-

“You died, Jon.” He says instead. The words coming out unbidden.

“I- I came back.” He tightens his grip on Martins wrist for a moment before loosening  “In one piece even. I believe that was a part of our agreement” There’s a note of teasing in that last part, Martin wishes it was funny.

“I said come back safe Jon, not ‘come back from the dead’” Jon's hand drops from his wrist.

“Do you not... Are you not glad I’m back?” He sounds- sad. Of course he sounds sad Martin basically just said he wished he'd died.

“Of course I’m glad your back, I just-”

“Then what’s wrong?” The words are just- they’re just words. But Martin feels something pull in his chest.

Martin looks at Jon for the first time since the hospital.

“I’m scared, Jon! I You were dead for three months, Y-you didn’t even have a heartbeat and I-” He brings a hand upland runs it through his hair, Jon doesn’t need to hear this. He should be resting not listening to Martin dump his issues like this- “you were dead and I was the only one left. A-and yeah you came back, but- god what even is this! You’re just, fine. A-and I’m- I don’t want you to not be fine but I- I can’t even prove to myself that you’re real and not- I-I don’t-” He forces himself to stop. clamping his jaw shut around the words that suddenly feel like they’re pushing at the back of his throat like bile. Jon stares back at him, eyes wide and confused and hurt. He’s disheveled and still wearing the pajamas Martin had brought for him in the first week. Small and tired and maybe even real. He looks at Jon until he can’t because his vision begins to blur and his eyes begin to burn.

“Martin, I- I’m- I’m sorry I-” Jon's blurry form moves, and Martin shuts his eyes. Shaking his head. He should be the one apologizing, Jon didn’t need to hear that and he just- threw it at him.

“I’m-” Martin tries to apologize, but it comes out as little more than a croak. Cool hands cup his cheeks, and he opens his eyes. Jon's face is closer now, eyes scanning desperately over Martin's face.

“I- I’m not- I don’t know what I am but I’m- I-I’m me. I-I promise, I don’t know how to prove it to you but I-” Jon starts, and Martin can see his lips move to form the words-

Jon is here, he’s alive. He’s awake. His hands are on Martin's cheeks and he’s running his thumb through the tear tracks, fumbling over awkward reassurances. and looking so, so earnest. Hell, he made a joke about a conversation nobody else heard. Something just between the two of them, nobody else. And to fear entities, maybe that doesn’t matter. But for now, with Jon so close and acting so perfectly imperfectly Jon. Martin can let- no. Make himself believe. Jon’s not dead, it’s not a trap. Not right now, not yet. Just for right now, Martin isn’t alone anymore.

It doesn’t take much to lean forward, pressing their lips together. Jon makes a small, cut-off sound of surprise before melting into it, letting a hand move to the back of Martin's hair and the other fall to his shoulder. Martin's arms wrapping around Jon's waist.

Eventually they have to part for air. Martin doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel Jon's breath on his face, and his hand in his hair and it’s all just another reminder he’s alive. And so wonderfully real.

He feels Jon move after a moment, using the hand he’s left on the back of Martin's head to guide him down. Pressing now-warm lips to the wet patches on his cheeks. Martin tries to laugh, he’s not sure why. It all just seems a little absurd all of a sudden. but it comes out as sort of a wet hiccup. Prompting Jon to tilt his head, and lock their lips together again.

Martin doesn’t know how long they stand in his entryway, trading kisses and just... being in each other's arms. But it’s long enough he’s run out of tears for Jon to try to kiss away, and the strange wired feeling has faded. Leaving him tired and heavy and in desperate need of a lie-down.

He pulls back, though not far. He can still feel Jon's lips against his as he speaks.

“Please don’t die again.” He says softly.

Jon sighs, pressing a small, chaste kiss against his lips.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and Martin can feel the words as Jon's mouth brushes his as much as he hears them. And then he kisses Martin again, like he’s trying to seal the words there with his lips.

And, Martin supposes that promise was enough last time. It might be more than enough for him now.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Drowning 6 pretttttry please. Your writing is amazing, honest to god. Wish I had your talent. Keep writing!!!!

Thank you for the ask and lovely message ❤

Drowning Part 6

Masterlist

This one is a tad different that the other parts, some segments are in from Supervillain's POV which are very vague because they are meant have an altered state feel to them. You also learn a lot about Villain and Hero's past in this one.

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate

Warnings: unreality, wheelchair, schizophrenia, elecric shocking, hallucinations, hate towards another, possessiveness, restraints, drugged whumpee, sick whumpee

~

Supervillain emerged from whatever fluid contraption held him in place. His body went numb, pins and needles filling every limb, every muscle like wildfire.

But, nearly as quick as he broke the surface, he fell back in...

Falling...

Falling...

Falling...

His body seized up, a ringing in his ears... then he hit solid ground, his body going slack. Nearly immediately, he felt conscious of the tubes and moniters embellishing him like ornaments and garland on a Christmas tree.

His lead-filled mouth yanked open on its own free will, trying to force a scream out, but his tongue only managed a hoarse whimper.

He jerked his head about, finding it laid nearly on a pillow, but another trap locked his head in. He clenched his hands, but his body was already falling back into the sea- all feeling washed away by the waves.

Sand. He felt sand in his body, dehydrating and numbing, as consciousness was snatched away from him once again. The tubes faded, as did the traps- leaving Supervillain with an empty void.

He had a sense, but couldn't remember what happened in brief moments of waking like this. He hardly recognized the difference between unconsciousness and consciousness and if he did, it wouldn't matter. He never could escape. Never could escape the agonizing water in and around his body.

All he could do was fall.

Fall back into the water.

《~~》

"Mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit them," a voice spoke. Hero had given up on trying to tell apart the various differences between the countless heroes and doctors that spoke to her on a daily basis. Trying to just intoxicated her mind with a weird feeling of displeasure and annoyance that couldn't be placed. It was right in between her eyebrows, where she would have a unibrow if she didn't wax it all the time in highschool.

"Do you know who wrote that quote, Hero? Hmm?"

Hero didn't respond. Why would she? It gave her no clearance, no escape, no epic prison break that one may expect from such a person of stengths and wits. She just sat there, limbs tied to the ground by unrelenting steel, her head angled to watch the suffering man on the bed slowly fade away with persistent illness and everyday drugs.

"Bruce Lee," the speaker answered the question after quickly realizing that Hero wasn't going to.

Hero tuned out of the conversation, leaving it as background noise as she studied the scene in front of her. Supervillain was hooked up so many moniters, it was as if he was in a coma. Hero twitched her jaw. Maybe he was. The ventilation and feeding tube stuck all the way down his nose and mouth, opening it forcibly, definitely made that thought come alive.

Hero did this a lot, zoning out whenever someone tried to talk to her. Her once vibrant personality and optimism was dampered, replaced by a dull depression. Even Villain, who watched Hero daily, was getting nervous of this rapid decline in attitude- not that Hero knew of her betrayer's thoughts and emotions. To her, in this foggy hole of misery, Villain was an outcasted shadow, adding depth to the painting, but never a main topic. Heck, if she didn't concentrate, she didn't even see the light shade on the white surface.

There was only Supervillain.

But even that has changed, and not just in the extra moniters and tubes, but her whole aspect of him. He was the cause of her pain, he was the cause of the insufferable cloud that ascended over her.

There was no fondness in the way she viewed him anymore, just resentment. The deepest kind of resentment that could also be described as despising.

But even that was an understatement.

One day, a movement drew Hero out of her hate-filled thoughts and back into reality. It was Villain, playing with something by her wrist.

"Back off," she snarled, her voice sounding unnaturally deep and cracky.

"And so she speaks." The glint in his eyes revealed the sarcasm that his monotonous voice hid. "How are you Hero?"

Hero snarled, raising her lips in an animalistic manner, but didn't reply. Once her wrist was let go, the unused muscles allowed it to flop aimlessly against her equally thining thigh. She was fed yes, a vile piece of bland, moist garbage that gave her body its much needed vitamins, minerals, and nutrients, but lack of use degraded the once hefty muscle.

Villain worked on each of the restraints. Each arm fell limp as her legs splayed out, thankful for the break from the locked position they were kept in. When her head was let free, it flopped, her neck unable to keep it up.

Villain steadied her, putting his hand unceremoniously against the base of her neck. Hero squirmed, aware of her vulnerability.

"The door with the exit sign is unlocked," he whispered, so close to her ear that Hero cringed.

At first, her brain using its old habit, began to block out his words, but suddenly stopped and rewinded, shoving them back to the front of her mind.

Unlocked...

She could get out.

Villain helped her into a nearby wheelchair and was about to wheel her away when a strand of her empathetic nature fought against the newfound distant demeanor.

"What 'bout Supervillain?" She asked, her voice a weak whisper.

"This is for you," Villain replied casually grinning down at Hero, happy that she was back to somewhat normal.

Hero sunk into the plushy cushioning of the seat and looked at Supervillain's still figure and snarled. Ha, he didn't get to leave. She did. She got to escape the inhumane confines that kept her bound up like a trapped goat.

He didn't. He could now pay for his crimes.

Yet, as stubborn as this thoughts of retribution sounded, they weren't. That sympathizing portion of her protested against the new arrangement. And, being the stronger of the two opposites, it left her tongue in forms of coherent words.

"I won't leave him," she said, her heart bursting. Whether the internal explosion was due to anticipation or exaltation, it don't matter. It felt natural, like herself.

"You really don't have a choice."

"Why do you want me free?" Hero asked.

"This place is the definition of boring."

Hero was silent and contemplated Villain's statement. He really didn't care about her levels of bore and joy, never did. Any interaction or any relationship that the two once cherished was borne of platonic care of the other's well-being. Nothing too deep, and barely held any real intent. Are you alive? Are you dead? Were the only two questions that brought along any vowels of conversing.

It was weird, abnormal. Hero might've even went as far as to say suspicious.

But it was also promising. Very, very promising. It held the possibility of freedom that the chair did not.

But he was Villain. He did not have one ounce of good will or honesty in his cold veins. He was a liar, a cheat, and as much as she would've loved to call them friends, it was close to impossible. They couldn't build a relationship off of trickery as much as the two once wanted to.

This was a scheme, a lie, to get to Hero and make her mess up. Mess up and then she gets hurt.

Or worse, Supervillain does.

That thought stood out from the rush of others in her brain for it held an interesting style to it. As close as she was to the old Hero and away from the shadow that "choosing who gets hurt" made her into, she wasn't it yet.

Not yet.

"Boring, but I am alive," Hero retorted, rolling her eyes as well as the stiff rectus muscles in her eyes allowed.

"That is otherwise obvious." Villain placed a hand on the barred door that only purpose served as an aesthetic.

"Yeah, in a way I suppose, but Supervillain isn't."

"He's breathing."

"He sleeps all day and when he does manage to wake, he passes out almost immediately. I need to stay with him!"

"You do nothing but glare daggers at him. You are released dear."

"No, you are not helping me escape from this damn place!"

Villain was silent, paused in the motion of pushing the door open.

"Amidst your utter hate for him, you still have the decency to protect him; Hero there is nothing to protect. With one simple flick of a switch, he is dead," Villain pointed out, turning to Hero with tears in his icy blue eyes that Hero once found gloriously gorgeous. Ones that she used to gaze into as they fought, unable to tear herself away. She lost many fights that way by being too distracted to actually land a punch.

But the innocence of that gaze was really just hiding the fact that Villain was a scandalous bastard- only giving half-truths and fake emotions about everything.

"Then why do you give him the serum. You guys know that I won't hurt those civilians," Hero pointed out with a shrug.

Villaim remained silent and wheeled Hero out of the room.

《~~》

Supervillain seemed to always arouse when the nurses swarmed him to administer the vile liquid that plagued his veins with nauseating adrenaline. He felt the hot- not warm, but scorching hot- drug enter his veins.

But it wasn't the beginning, the actual pain of the procedure, that caused Supervillain his horrifying misery. It was afterwards and he wasn't thinking of the dizzying fatigue that usually pushed him into another deep sleep, but the memories it brought.

Some were nostalgic, others taut with grief. Others held regret while some even had remnants of agonizing torture he once endured.

Or gave.

But they were never happy, nor comforting to any degree.

So, when a reverie of kind touch swarmed Supervillain's sensations, his lethargic heart started to pump in rocket speed, motorizing the boat to accelerate...

"Go to sleep."

Hero's voice. One that brought him so much comfort. Hands scratched at his scalp and he felt his heavy eyelids drop.

"I'll be hear when you wake up," Hero lulled, humming softly as the sweet scent of vanilla hit Supervillain's scent receptors. He smiled, the tiniest of grins and nuzzled his nose into her warm, fleece sweater.

But, even delirous as he was, in the back of his head, Supervillain knew this was a vision. A hallucination. The model of schizophrenia that the drug brought upon his mind.

But it was just so real.

So he gave in, purposely allowing himself to be washed away by the unreality of the dream.

Because he loved it. He loved the touch as if it was actually real.

A warm figure slid next to his body wrapping its- her- arms around his shivering body. Phony yes, it gave stability as the fatigue pushed itself to its maximum.

As consciousness dripped away, Supervillain hummed slightly, happy with the feeling.

《~~》

Hero's hand buzzed over the door, considering the possibilities of opening it, but in the end, she blatantly refused.

"No," she said, her old self returning. "I am not going to leave Supervillain."

Villain's eyes widened, chin shaking.

"You care for him?" He asked, voice slightly elevated like a flute's pitch. Such a change from the droning audibles that usually slugged off his tongue. "Like actually."

Hero's brows crunched together as she read Villain's new face expressions. Blond hair draped down to his pointed eyebrows where it slightly curled. Tears seemed to well in his azure eyes.

"Are you crying?" Hero asked, scoffing, but in reality, she cared.

Cared a whole bunch.

"It's just," Villain stepped forward, leaning down and resting his hand on Hero's shoulder. His other hand balanced delicately against the holster of whatever weapon he carried.

Suddenly, without warning, his hand shot up and an bolt of electricity flashed through her body. Hero fell forward, screaming and withering on the floor.

Villain leaned forward, breath warm against her sweaty cheek. "You are mine Hero. I won't ever let you hold, or care for Supervillain again," he growled, bringing thr taser back to Hero's neck. "Goodnight, my love."

The electric shock came again, and the world descended into blackness.

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Part 8 - Recovery)

Prologue 1. Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 2. Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 3. Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 4. Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2 5. Orientation 6. Rescue Site 7. Investigation 8. Recovery

This one is over 4600 words to the point I considered cutting it in half. But lots happens so I’ve posted it whole. Now I just need to play catch up because I had a crappy couple of weeks and now I’m only about 500 words ahead of this. I have a few days off coming up, so wish me luck :D

As always, many thanks to the amazing @janetm74​ @scribbles97​ @tsarinatorment​ @vegetacide​ and science officer @onereyofstarlight​ You guys have helped me make this what it is. I so hope you are enjoying it.

For the first time in this story, I’ve slightly gone off plan and have had to add in a chapter because of it. Here’s hoping I can keep this going. We are now at 35,000 words which is approximately halfway.

Warnings: some whump.

Thank you for all your support with this fic. I doubt I could do it without all the cheerleading and support. You guys are just amazing ::hugs you so much::

Enjoy!

-o-o-o-

Jeff Tracy was a man of action and drive. Eight years in the depths of space had eroded the edges of his impatience, but hadn’t eliminated it.

So, sitting in Callisto Base watching his family work and not having anything much to do wasn’t in the best interests of his mental health.

But what could he do?

He had set up a kind of mobile control despite not being in control of anything. John had linked him into everything and he and Lee had pretty much taken over one of the command centres of the Base.

Grae hovered the entire time.

Jeff watched the well-oiled machine that was International Rescue with no small amount of pride. He watched them track down the lifesigns, survey the site, drill extra access, deploy Thunderbird Four and-

“Gordon!”

“Guys, get out of there! Now!”

The holographic image of the lake swelled and swept his sons away.

Jeff was on his feet without thinking.

Three of the five life signs on the strategy map darted erratically, one coming to an abrupt stop against the cavern wall, while the two others travelled some distance up the main tunnel before stopping suddenly.

“Thunderbird Five!”

“Please hold.”

Jeff’s eyes widened. “John!”

Data was suddenly thrown at his terminal. His sons’ vitals sprung up and he was relieved to find them all strong. A sitrep appeared a moment later tracking where the wave had come from, probabilities of a recurrence, a site safety scan and a feed from the Dragonfly Pod.

Its lights were still on, one shining at an angle across the tunnel it had landed in, the other reflected back a glare of white and a blue as beautiful as an Earth sky in the early evening.

The first one explained why.

One of the Dragonfly’s legs was sticking up out of a solidified white mass.

Of ice.

The math added up in his head very abruptly and he was suddenly moving.

It was a sign that Lee and he still had that unspoken communication as the engineer didn’t even ask and just moved with him, following his mad run to the hangar without a word.

Alan and Gordon had left the second Dragonfly pod at the Base and Jeff was ever so grateful.

“What’s…where are you going?” Grae’s eyes were wide as they all skidded to the side of the pod.

“Three of my sons are buried in ice. Where do you think I’m going?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer, climbing up into the cockpit with a leap of agility he hadn’t felt for years. With a nod from Lee, he snapped the hatch shut and grabbed controls he hadn’t used outside of a simulator in over a decade.

It was like returning home.

The Dragonfly took off for the airlock far above as the doors began their opening sequence without request.

-o-o-o-

John reacted the way he always reacted.

Without thought. There was no time for thought.

Hands moving across his console dragged as much information as he could from the static-fouled scans.

He blinked as the interference cleared somewhat.

A worried plea from his father John had no time for. A flick of his wrist and he mirrored his sources to his father’s terminal.

All three of his brothers had come to a halt. Gordon was still in the cavern, Four slammed up against a wall. Scott and Virgil were in the tunnel. Vital signs were still good, but there was no response from any of them.

No matter how much he yelled into comms.

One of the beacons had been swept away, causing the interference to intensify in that area, but the readings he had added up to a scenario that echoed past hell.

His father was already moving.

“John?” Alan’s voice was professional but sported an edge of terror.

“I’m coming down, Thunderbird Three.” He grabbed his helmet. “Dad is on his way out there. Do we have enough parts for a third Dragonfly?”

His brother’s voice solidified with the plan of action. “Yeah, Virg overcompensated as always. He packed stuff in as if he was planning to stay out here for a couple of years.”

John didn’t answer that. “Assemble another pod. I’ll see you down there asap.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

“Eos, align the Excel with the danger zone. Initiate elevator deployment.” He flung himself through his ‘bird. “I need as much information as you can give me. Relay on descent.”

“Yes, John. It appears that the water volume of the lake increased dramatically before the incident, but has now returned to its previous status.”

John slipped through the airlock to the elevator. He hit his comms. “Michael, there has been an incident. I am going down to the surface. You have the Excel.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. I will monitor.”

“Liaise with Eos.” He killed the connection as he entered the cockpit, his seat rotating towards him in welcome. “Eos, be nice.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Too bad. We need him.”

She grumbled in a way reminiscent of Virgil before coffee.

Maybe she had been taking notes.

He ignored it. “Send all information to my terminal here.” The elevator shuddered as it disengaged from Five and began its descent. The cockpit lit up with holograms.

He eyed the replay of the static-riddled scan as the lake swelled and overcame his brothers.

Four had been swept out of the water and washed ashore violently. Scott and Virgil, standing on that shore, hadn’t stood a chance.

One gloved hand reached up to poke the playback, pause and rewind. There had been a local seismic disturbance just before, epicentre to the north-east by a few hundred metres. Minor on an Earth scale, but since Callisto supposedly hadn’t had any major crustal movements in eons, it was unusual in the extreme.

“Eos, pull the Base seismic records. Have they detected anything like this before?”

The elevator’s thrusters fired as it hit the faint atmospheric boundary.

“Their system has recorded several incidents, but nothing of this magnitude.” Eos’ voice shifted to one of concern. “Incidents have been increasing recently. There have been three in the past month. John, one was recorded by the Base system the same day as the five members of their crew disappeared.”

“What? Why wasn’t that mentioned?”

“Unknown.”

He stared at the scan. “Do we have any source for more water to reach the lake?” It hurt his physics sensibilities. Water should not exist as a fluid in this environment at all.

“None within sensor range.”

Damnit. He was used to being able to see everything.

“Deploy a net of probes. I want everything in a ten thousand kilometre radius as crystal clear as you can get it.” If there was a pun in there, he refused to acknowledge it.

“Yes, John. That will cover the entire surface of the moon.”

“Exactly.” Something weird was happening here and he wanted to know what. If he had to throw everything Thunderbird Five had at it, he would.

The elevator thrusters fired again and the moon appeared around his windows, followed by the striking red of Three.

“Alan, are you ready?”

“Pod assembled, Thunderbird Five. Awaiting your orders.” There was no tremble in his brother’s voice, but there was an anxious impatience.

The elevator touched down with a soft thud. Eos’ control was perfect. “Thank you, Eos.”

“You are welcome, John.” A pause. “Be safe.”

His lips tightened a little. “FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

She didn’t answer as he stepped out onto the moon.

-o-o-o-

Alan didn’t remember his mother, but he had four brothers who did and he knew far too well the pain of what had happened when she was taken from them.

The fact that three of those brothers were now buried in the space-ice equivalent of an avalanche was absolutely terrifying.

The water had managed to travel some distance before solidifying and trapping everything. As far as Alan could tell, his brothers were encased in ice.

If they had been on Earth their lives would be in peril. In space, they were at least wearing their spacesuits. But spacesuits could be damaged.

He didn’t let himself follow that train of thought. He couldn’t afford it right now. Instead, he followed procedure.

That was what procedure was for.

It was a matter of minutes before John was stepping off the space elevator, his tall brother as confident and professional as ever.

Part of Alan was still surprised when John directed him to take control of the pod. Perhaps it was because Alan was used to the control freak habits of his two eldest brothers?

“Get us down there Alan.” John was distracted, glaring at his wrist projector.

He didn’t need to be told twice. With John secure in the backseat, Alan threw them down the gaping hole his ‘bird had dug, through the mole’s extension and into the dry cavern below.

The dragonfly latched onto the beacons and they darted down the correct tunnel, glittering rock streaking past them as their twin beams of bright light hit everything.

Including the mass of white that that suddenly swelled up on one side of the tunnel.

It wasn’t quite a wave, more a slosh of water, frozen in motion.

“What the hell?”

“Edge down the tunnel a little further, Scott is...” But they were already there and the flash of blue and red was obvious.

His eldest brother was embedded in the ice halfway up the wall. Alan only had breath as he yanked the dragonfly to an abrupt halt, her claws leaving gouges in the ice. “Scott!”

He was out of the pod as fast humanly possible.

One of his brother’s arms was dangling free and Alan reached for it. “Scott?”

Limp, gloved fingers.

John already had a hand laser out and the red of its beam was cutting ice in a loose silhouette of their brother’s body. As they worked him free, bits of ice fell away to the floor. It was fragmentary. Somewhere between solid and hard packed snow. The water had obviously frozen so quickly, it was aerated enough to stiffen fully.

Fortunately, because Alan had the sudden realisation that spacesuits or no, if his brothers couldn’t expand their ribcages, they couldn’t breathe regardless. The sudden relief sprouted new terror.

John helped Alan lower their big brother to the floor.

“Sc…Scott?”

For a second, Alan thought it was John speaking, but his astronaut brother answered, voice urgent. “Virgil?”

No response.

“Thunderbird Two, status!” John was moving, long legs leaping in the low gravity, propelling him back to the pod. He reached inside and pulled out a large torch. “Alan, attend to Scott.” And then his brother was running further down the tunnel, light bouncing ahead of him, holographic map hovering over his wrist.

A further spark of terror was smothered in Alan’s brain as he turned back to his prone and unconscious eldest brother and began chipping and melting ice to free him.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was lying flat on his back staring at white lit up by his helmet lights.

It took him a few solid minutes to realise exactly what he was looking at. His brain felt sluggish and was hurting like hell. He really needed more painkillers.

He automatically tried to calculate how long it was since his last dose and came up blank. There was time missing.

This realisation was quickly followed by the discovery that he wasn’t able to move.

God, his brain was slow. The first thought that came to mind was that yet another building had fallen on him. It happened far more often than he was willing to admit.

But then where was his exosuit?

He blinked slowly.

One arm was caught at an awkward angle and was protesting its position. His legs seemed to be splayed out evenly, though and his other arm seemed happy enough. Hell, there wasn’t really even much weight on him. He had definitely had worse.

But his chest was tight and breathing shallow. Something had him in its grip and he had to force down the visuals that came with that.

Not being able to move always sucked.

He really wished his head would stop hurting.

“Sc..Scott?” It was instinctual. In trouble, call for his big brother.

Need a hand.

“Virgil?” John’s voice. Johnny had the power to call Scotty, to get him help.

He opened his mouth to answer, but something shifted in the ice...ice...it was ice! Memories slammed into him of ice and snow and trapped and oh god...his sluggish brain couldn’t handle it.

“Thunderbird Two, status!”

John’s voice shook him.

Um, um…his heart was beating a mile a minute. He fought for control.

“Virgil? Son?”

Dad.

His father’s voice set off both relief and fear. Relief because of a deep-seated trust in his own father.

Fear because where was Scott? Scott should be here.

But Scott had been with him when the whatever had hit him.

Had hit him.

Water.

Space.

Callisto.

Sparkling crystal flickered in his mind’s eye.

“Scott?”

“Your brother is in good hands.”

Even his sluggish brain could see that as a non-answer. “Dad?”

“We’re digging you out.”

Oh.

As if to emphasize that statement there was a red flash and the world around him hissed. He closed his eyes as the light stabbed into his hurting head.

“Dad? Gordon?”

“Nearly there, son.”

Virgil’s heart clenched.

They uncovered his head first and Virgil teared up at the sight of his father’s worried expression above him. John was there as well, darting in and out of sight, obviously the source of the laser light.

“Johnny…”

There was a crack in the ice.

Ice.

His mind blanked in terror again.

Too many memories.

Far too many.

“Virgil! Look at me!” Dad’s voice held command and he had no choice but to obey. “You are safe.” His hand was being held and Virgil realised it had been cut from the ice. He tried to move his other arm, every heavy-lifting muscle he had straining against its restriction.

Another crack of stressed ice, a yelp from John and Virgil’s arm was suddenly free, ice fragments raining down on him.

Encouraged, he began working on his feet.

“Virgil, stay still just a moment longer.” John’s voice was strained.

Virgil wanted out.

“Virgil.” His Dad grabbed his flailing hand forced him to look at him, grey eyes reflecting the white ice. “Hold still, John is cutting you out.”

Yes, John was cutting him out. Red flickered amongst the white. Virgil swallowed and attempted to get the panic under control and found that he was trembling.

Damn.

He was a rescue operative. He should be calm.

The remaining weight on his belly was removed and he was finally able to take a deep breath.

It helped ever so much.

He closed his eyes and sought his centre.

And fell back on procedure.

If Scott was down, International Rescue was now his responsibility. He needed to be in control.

In control.

By the time John lifted the remaining ice off his legs, Virgil had found himself again. He clambered out of the ice as fast as he possibly could and shot to his feet.

And nearly fell flat on his face for the effort.

His father grabbed him and prevented his fall. “Virgil, sit down.”

There was a flicker of a medscanner, but Virgil was too busy assessing the situation to care. “Scott?”

“With Alan. Unconscious, but safe.”

“Gordon?”

“Still in the cave. Thunderbird Four is silent. I sent Lee. John is following him down.”

Damn. Virgil shook the last of the ice stuck to his uniform, straightened his baldric and took a step towards the direction of the cave, but was halted by a firm grip on his arm.

“You’re not going down there.”

Virgil spun on one foot and the world in all its glittering glory spun with him. “Gordon is down there.”

“John and Lee have him. You were buried in ice, Virgil.”

To his ultimate shame, Virgil shuddered at the concept.

But Gordon...

That grip on his arm tightened. “You’re coming with me.”

Virgil straightened, forcing steel into his spine. “With Scott unconscious, I am in command. I need to be down there.”

“No, you don’t.” His father took a step back up the tunnel, obviously intending to drag Virgil if he had to.

Virgil was no longer the scrappy kid who wanted to play with his paints instead of cleaning his room, and he stood fast.

His father had been in space a long time and his strength had paid the price.

There was no competition.

Buried in ice or not.

“Dad, I am going down to help with Gordon. Scott needs you. I’ll meet you up there the moment Gordon is safe.”

The need to be in two places at once, or more correctly four places, at least, was a common feeling Virgil had to ignore.

Gordon was the priority.

“I need an analysis of what happened. There was a wave. Why? See to Scott and Alan.” He reached up and gently peeled his father’s grip of his arm. “Thank you for helping me. Now I have to go help my brothers.” Turning he hit his comms, asked John for a sit rep and hurried down the tunnel.

He did not look back.

-o-o-o-

Scott had a headache.

That was the first hint of reality and not a new one in his life. He often woke with headaches, the only remaining question was what caused it this time.

“Hey, Scott, are you with us?”

Alan.

Several factors hit home at once. He was wearing his helmet, hence his uniform and Alan, only Alan, had said his name.

Mission.

He was sitting up before his brain had filled him in on the fact he was millions of miles away from home and gravity was a whole different thing on Callisto.

“Whoa!” Hands grabbed him. Hands that definitely belonged to Alan. The astronaut was crouched over him with worried eyes. “Take it easy. You might have a concussion.”

Head injury then.

“Mission status.”

“John’s gone after Gordon. Virgil is awake and out of the ice.”

Gordon. Gordon had been in the water. The weird water.

The very idea of Virgil being buried in ice again awoke horrors he did not want to face.

“Help me up.” Scott rolled himself over, ignoring the protests from his brother to stay put. His head protested very loudly and it became very apparent that the supposed head injury was not impressed with any movement.

Ow.

But, mission.

“Scott, what are you doing?” Another set of hands grabbed at him, which was probably a good thing because he was going down if they hadn’t. As it was, the whole world shifted as he was forcibly lowered to sit on the white, white ground again.

There was a flicker of yellow light and muttering from his youngest brother. “We need to get him back to base.” Alan’s voice was worried.

But Gordon. “I’ve got to go help Gordon.” He tried to stand up again, but too many hands held him down. His shoulders were grabbed and he found a pair of grey eyes staring at him. “Dad? Gordy is in danger.”

“I know son. John, Lee and Virgil will see to him.”

Virgil. He blinked. “Virgil was with me!” Again he struggled to get up.

His father held him down. “Virgil is very determined that he is fine. You, however, are not. You have a concussion. I will take you back to the Base and you will rest. Alan will help his brothers.”

“But-“

The hands on his shoulders squeezed. “Do I have to ask Virgil to reinforce that order?”

Virgil? Order? God, his head hurt.

But this was Dad. Dad knew what to do in space. Dad was...Dad was...

“Scott, you with me?”

He was shaken just a little and his head hated him for it. A groan and his hand encountered his helmet. Augh.

Space sucked.

“C’mon, Scotty, let’s get you into the pod.” Alan’s voice was gentle and professional. He was so proud of his little brother. “Yeah, well, I learnt from the best. Up you get.”

He was pulled slowly to his feet and he had to bite down or lose whatever the hell it was he had eaten last. There were steps and then he was sitting and familiar restraints were holding him in place.

He closed his eyes.

Gordon. He had to help Gordon.

“Your brothers will help him, Scott, you know that.”

But-

His world shook as the pod lifted. He glimpsed the back of his father’s helmet. Dad. Dad was driving. Dad had control.

He could let go.

-o-o-o-

Alan swallowed as their father launched the pod back down the tunnel, its headlights sparkling.

He had reported Scott’s status the moment they had the medscanner’s results and had received a very abrupt acknowledgement from Virgil.

It was unusual to have Virgil in command in space. It wasn’t his native environment and he didn’t venture into it very often. It, of course, wasn’t the first time, and Alan trusted Virgil with his life. But this was Alan’s turf, he needed to be there to help.

He leapt into the remaining dragonfly and dashed off down the tunnel.

It got tighter and tighter as he flew closer to the Crystal Cave, his access blocked by frozen lake water. For a moment he thought he was going to have to abandon the pod, but he was just able to squeeze through the entrance.

The lake was exactly as it had been. Calm and glittering in the pod’s headlamps. He turned slowly on the rocky beach to find Four, free of ice, jammed up against the wall beside the tunnel entrance. She was on her port side, cabin rammed into the rock.

Alan’s heart clenched as he set the dragonfly down.

Both John and Virgil along with Uncle Lee were attempting to gain access via the rear hatch. The ‘bird was made for water, but on the very rare occasion such as this, Brains had built space capable redundancies into her airlock.

How many submersibles in this universe were also space capsules in disguise?

But all this was redundant if the seals had been compromised.

A quick query of Thunderbird Five reassured Alan that Gordon’s vitals were still strong. There was still no response from their fish brother, but he was alive and relatively stable and Four reported no seal ruptures.

Yet.

Virgil grunted as the back of Four was slowly cranked open. Uncle Lee and his engineer brother were putting all their muscle into heaving the hatch open while John slipped into the vehicle.

A moment later the door was shoved shut again and Alan was surprised to see Virgil seal it with a hand laser.

Tired eyes caught Alan’s. His brother didn’t need to explain why he was doing what he was doing.

“Inner airlock door is now compromised.” John’s voice was calm and sure despite the subject matter. “Proceeding to the cockpit.”

Alan stared at Virgil a moment, caught by his haggard expression before hurrying around Four towards her belly viewports.

All he could see was Gordon’s feet. No matter how he shone his hand light through those windows, he could see nothing more. Gordon’s pilot’s seat obscured everything.

For it to be in that position it had to have been severed off its mountings.

Hell.

Determined, Alan scrambled around Four’s nose and tried to find her front viewports. Everything was obscured by rock.

Crystal glittered mockingly at him, an almost scarlet chunk of quartz sticking out of the wall and falling over as if it was reaching for Four.

Alan fought the urge to shove it away from his brother’s ‘bird.

“Cockpit hatch is non-operational. Eos, relay through my suit sensors and give me a detailed report on Gordon’s position.” John’s voice was ever so calm.

Alan wanted to scream.

He hurried back to the lower ports and stared at his brother’s feet.

Again Gordon had been crushed in his ‘bird. How hurt was he this time. How long would he take to recover?

Virgil spoke up and Alan was startled to find his engineer brother and Uncle Lee standing beside him. Virgil was standing ramrod straight. “Eos, can you pull any medical data?”

“Please hold.” The AI’s voice was crisp and professional. “Compensating for interference.”

Damned interference. Alan was so sick of static. Their comm lines and sensor feeds were usually perfect. What was it with this place?

A big hand gently wrapped around his arm.

“I’m fine, Virgil.”

The hand did not let go.

“Thank you, Eos.” How did John stay so calm? “Cutting into the cockpit now.”

Virgil’s wrist control lit up and projected the sensor data he had requested from Eos. True to this place, parts flickered and there was some pixilation, but a clear outline of both Gordon and John inside Four was all the reassurance it could be.

Gordon was curled up on the ‘floor’ of his ‘bird, on what had been Four’s portside viewports.

The laser cutter in John’s hand flared up brightly as he cut through the cockpit hatch mechanisms.

Red light flickered through the marine acrylic enough to catch on Alan’s uniform.

“His right arm is broken again.” Virgil sighed. “He’s going to be so pissed.”

“I’m in.” And John was. Light lit up the viewports, quickly followed by the yellow of a medscanner.

“Oh, thank god.” Beside him, Virgil visibly deflated in relief. The hologram lit up with Gordon’s full medical details. A red alarm hovered over one arm where the break snapped his right ulna and his head had an orange flag that pinpointed a likely concussion. But other than that, Gordon appeared whole and safe, his spacesuit undamaged and airtight. Alan’s shoulders dropped almost as much as Virgil’s.

“He’s safe to move, John.” No doubt John knew that, but Virgil obviously had a need to confirm it anyway. He had a habit of doing that. Alan wasn’t really sure who it was for, Virgil’s brothers or himself.

The next few moments involved cutting open the rear hatch of Four again. This time there was the hiss of escaping atmosphere as Virgil took the entire door off the sub, no longer needing to worry about Gordon’s suit integrity.

John emerged carefully carrying his unconscious brother, Gordon’s helmeted head limp on one shoulder, his arm in an emergency splint, no doubt from one of Four’s first aid packs.

“Vincent, I’m thinking you boys need to take your brother back to base.”

Alan suddenly realised they were a pod or two short to carry all of them. There were five operatives and only one pod.

Uncle Lee eyed Virgil, his lips thin. “Albert, you could fly George while Vincent, John and I dig out the other pod.”

Virgil shifted his feet as he translated that, and Alan frowned at him. His engineer brother was wrecked. Alan could see it in his eyes. Understandable

Virgil’s nod was firm, regardless. “FAB. Alan, you’re with Gordon. John, what is the impact of the interference on Eos’ capability to pilot the pod if necessary?”

Their space brother was looking down at Gordon’s face frowning. “Eos is deploying a moon-wide probe net. We can use them to strengthen the signal. I think that above ground, Thunderbird Five should be able to pilot reliably. I would not recommend attempting it underground.”

Virgil nodded again before striding over to Alan’s pod and, climbing up and throwing the hatch back, began reconfiguring the backseat to transport their injured brother.

Alan hurried over to help and within minutes, John had secured their unconscious aquanaut brother prone on his side in the back of the pod.

Silent, eyes closed, non-responsive.

Alan took off smoothly and with as much care as possible, flew back up the tunnel, heading above ground and back to Callisto Base.

His last glance at the Crystal Cave outlined the shapes of two brothers and an uncle standing ever so alone in a giant cavern that had tried to kill three of his brothers.

-o-o-o-

Next

[sehunniepotwrites]

IS IT TOO LATE TO REQUEST??? if not mwahahahahaha i request AU #14: christmas!au, prompt #11: “you’re my best friend. you’re supposed to deal with the second hand embarrassment.”, and with jaehyun uwuwuwuwuwuwuwu I LOVE YOU B TAKE UR TIME I KNOW IT'LL BE GR8 10/10 WOULD RECOMMEND

member: jung jaehyun christmas!au prompt: “you’re my best friend. you’re supposed to deal with the second-hand embarrassment.” wc: ~730

not as cute as i hope it would be but here it is. (my mind is still stuck on mark lee sO)

-- You know those insanely cheesy Christmas movies where you meet the love of your life while working a holiday event? Yeah, this was nothing of that sort.

It was just you, dressed head-to-toe in an obnoxious elf costume while directing families who were in line to meet Father Christmas himself. The costume was cheaply made and literally rubbing you in the wrong way-- you had to stop yourself from scratching several times.

In other words, you were hating your job.

It was screaming kids, overbearing parents, demanding only the best and you had to deal with it all in the ugliest costume known to man. To top it all off, you had to dance on stage every top of the hour.

When applying to work at the local theme park, this was not what you were expecting. You were thinking of happiness and laughter and fun shifts working operations for attractions, not practically embarrassing yourself in front of millions of people to see while wearing fake elf ears.

You hated the Christmas season, you decided as you tugged on your itchy collar again. 

It couldn’t get any worse than it already was. But oh, it did because as you stood on stage for the hourly performance in the audience was your best friend in the whole entire world, Jung Jaehyun, smirking right at you with his phone in hand. 

That little shit, you thought to yourself, as the music began. You faked a smile and danced your silly routine you performed five times a day with heated cheeks. You weren’t quite sure if you were burning out of embarrassment or out of rage. Either way, you were so going to kill him. 

Jaehyun’s eyes locked onto yours and you could just tell he was trying to hold back his laughter. His lips were pursed in that certain way and tears were gathering up in his eyes, hand shaking as he focused his camera on you.

The ten-minute performance dragged on for way too long but as soon as it was over, you hurried off the stage and booked it to the side door that read “Santa and Helpers Only.” As expected, Jaehyun was already waiting for you at the door, hand covering his mouth as his large body shook with laughter.

“You, just, oh my god,” he said, his deep chuckles flowing out.

“Shut up, just don’t,” you cut him off, holding up your hand to stop further comments. You poked him on the chest repeatedly, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I had to support you, you know,” Jaehyun pauses, almost choking over his words, “your endeavors.”

“I hate you,” you hiss, punching his arm but the move did more damage to you than to him. 

“Ah, ah,” Jaehyun teased by shaking his phone, “you shouldn’t do that when I have blackmail material.”

“Ugh, shut it. It was really embarrassing, you know?”

“Oh, I felt embarrassed for you,” Jaehyun chuckled again. He played with the pompom on top of your elf hat. “It was kinda cute though, not gonna lie.”

“You’re my best friend, you’re supposed to deal with the second-hand embarrassment,” you countered, whacking his hand away from your head. “Wait, what?”

Rewind and freeze. Did Jaehyun just compliment you?

You looked up to see him rubbing the back of his neck, face, and ears as bright as a cherry. “You, uh, looked cute up there.”

You’re the one blushing now. Jaehyun had never called you cute before. It gave you this weird giddy feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Right, um, thanks.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out. 

“I need to, uh, clock out for my lunch break,” you awkwardly point to the door, not knowing how to proceed with the conversation. Turning around to leave, Jaehyun stopped you with a hand on your wrist.

“Wait,” he called. “Have lunch with me? My treat?” 

And then he smiled that incredibly adorable smile with those dimples you wanted to poke, his eyes and nose scrunching up that suddenly drove your heart absolutely insane. It was beating so fast, you felt like you were on an obscene amount of caffeine and sugar and it just wouldn’t stop.

“S-sure, let me just get changed,” you answered with a shy smile of your own.

Okay, you take it back. 

You got a pretty good check, free food, and possibly a date with your best friend out of this embarrassing job position at the theme park. Maybe this Christmas season wasn’t so bad after all. 

[debiteful]

Arthur tries to figure out how to win his grudge match with the reigning champion. Sequel to this story.

Content: professional fighting, unconsciousness, detailed vore mention with humanoid slime pred, various anthro prey, public vore, professional fighting, belly bulge, translucent belly; no actual complete vore scenes in this one lol

In the days after that match, Arthur wracked his mind for ways to best the champion. Every punch he threw in training was aimed at that slime. When he messed up he could feel that stretchy mouth closing around him.

To Coach it was clear the fighter's mind was elsewhere. He probed, "What's going on in there?"

Arthur didn't spare him a glance, "One, two, one, three," he emphasized each word with a strike from fists or foot.

"Doubtful: you've been sloppy all week. If you were actually focused you might be making progress instead of back sliding."

The wolf grit his teeth, "Since you seem to know it all, why ask me?"

"I'm no mind reader, Champ."

Arthur yelped as his wrist buckled from poor form. He whirled on Coach with a toothy snarl, "Why don't you quit distracting me and start coaching me?"

He put up his hands, "Alright alright have it your way."

With that he set Arthur to grueling drills. The fighter had done these hundreds of times, so his mind was still free to wander. This time Coach didn't bother commenting on it. He knew he'd snap out of it sooner or later.

When inspiration didn't strike, Arthur started gathering recordings of all the champion's fights. He got very little sleep over the next few weeks. During the day he dove into his training, mind still on the champion. In the evening he binged fights, pausing and rewinding particularly complex parts. He memorized whole combinations to ask Coach how to counter.

From what he could gather, the champion tended to be evasive until he got an opportunity to grapple. Once that point was reached, victory was all but assured. He thought perhaps he could take a less aggressive approach, but others had tried before and failed. The champion was an expert at goading, but he was known to strike first on occasion. All his limbs could stretch, so a punch thrown from across the ring could find its mark. Overall it was a very defensive strategy.

Not every fight ended with the opponent in his belly. Many of them did, and Arthur found himself studying those the hardest. He couldn't help but admire the grip strength as the slime locked onto their prey. Watching their head stretch and throat bulge was uncanny; it had felt uncanny too. Seeing their belly stretch as whatever poor sap filled it, slowly becoming more transparent, brought back the sensations of being inside. Watching those clips made his heart race and breath come quickly. It wasn't like him to panic- though this didn't feel quite like the alarm he had felt during the end of that fight.

Binging the fights gave him a few ideas, but he wasn't confident. Knowledge in hand, he approached Coach. "Hey, I think I know who I want to face next."

His trainer perked up, "Oh?"

"Yeah, this guy- Myron. He's got a similar record to me, and I think I could take him."

"Isn't he a slime, like the champion? Last time that didn't go so well-"

"I'm well aware. I think I can do this."

"Alright, alright fine. I'll get it arranged." 

The fight with Myron went long but well. Arthur could anticipate what he might do, and tested out moves he hoped to use on the champ. Some failed spectacularly, but others met their mark. 

Arthur came from that fight exhilarated. His strategy was starting to come together! Now he just needed to face other slimes. 

Coach started to put the pattern together very quickly. He didn't bother asking about it, but he figured his fighter was angling for a more even grudge match. Whatever the case, he was glad to play his part.

After months, Arthur felt ready. He had honed his strategy to a razor's edge: there was no way the champ would walk away undefeated!

They entered the ring one after another, Arthur first. The roar of the crowd was overwhelming as his opponent came out. The wolf looked at the slime and felt his face flush. He hadn't realized how strongly- how angry?- he felt still. Then again, he had been building up to this for months. He shook his head vigorously to clear it.

They touched gloves and retreated towards their corners. The bell was struck. Heart racing, Arthur circled slowly.

Patience. Patience was key. He could feel every second slowly slipping away. There was the taunt, a complete drop of the guard. Now? He edged closer. 

A glove shot towards Arthur's face, the slime's arm stretching with the force of the punch. The wolf ducked down, open hand hitting the mat as both his legs kicked out, finding their mark on the opponent's knee.

Now he scrambled along the mat while the champ dove to grapple his legs. Getting caught in their hold was game over; the champ knew it. They lunged after their crawling opponent but Arthur found his feet. He spun around and one knee went up before the other leg snapped out and flew to the side, the top of his foot striking their jaw. Body followed head, arms belatedly curling up in a guard.

Arthur knew better than to press on. Others had confidently tried to pin the champ to the mat, but he always turned the tables. The wolf backed off and let his opponent stand.

The slime opened his mouth and worked his jaw a little, wincing from the movement. Arthur grinned: they would be hard pressed to eat him with that injury. 

The smile was just about knocked off his face by a high kick. He ducked in time, barely. A jab turned into a block as a punch flew at him, and he responded in kind. This was the opening volley of a breakneck exchange of blows. The champ was fast and they had their tricks, but Arthur had seen dozens of their fights and every movement seemed predictable.

He blocked a knee, then a right hook only for an uppercut to catch him off guard. In a desperate move he rolled with it, ending up stumbling backwards. A stretchy leg shot out to trip him up.

Arthur hit the mat and in moments his opponent was on top of him.

A flurry of blows rained down on his head. He struggled beneath their weight, arms and torso pinned. The thought of tapping out never occurred to him. One knee drove up, then the other, but his entire upper leg landed fairly flat against their back, dampening the blows. He tried throwing both legs to the side to twist away to no avail.

Arthur's vision grew spotty as his whole face throbbed. When the punches stopped, he couldn't feel it. The darkness crept in from all sides until it took him.

The champion stood and backed off while the ref counted Arthur out. The wolf didn't stir until halfway through the announcement of the winner. He pushed off the mat, bleary eyes little help in guiding him out of the ring. 

All his preparation- even that hadn't been enough. The Champ must be unbeatable. Arthur didn't know what to do right away, but an idea eventually occurred to him.

About a week later he went to a new gym. Coach didn't know he was there; maybe Coach never would. Arthur intended to train with both Coach and the Champ.

[suttttton]

Kindred Spirit//Crumbling World

Written for @bookish-bi-christian as part of @tma-valentines-exchange!

Happy Valentines Day, Ray! Enjoy your nostalgic timsasha angst!

~*~*~*~*~

In a windowless basement I look across my desk And your smile And your stupid hair And the golden rays of your eyes Become my sun

Tim stares at the poem for a long time. He’d found it on top of a little box he’d always known was in his desk, but hadn’t looked at for over a year now. It was full of cards with little notes from Sasha, printed-out photos of the two of them together. And this love poem.

He remembers when Sasha gave him the poem. He’d just gotten back from a follow-up adventure that had taken him out of the Archives for a couple of days. It had been on his desk when he came back, and he’d read it, grinning the whole way as Sasha determinedly avoided eye contact.

“Not a word!” she’d said when he’d opened his mouth to thank her for it. “I know it’s stupid and cheesy, I just—” her face had been fully red by this point. “I don’t know. I missed you.” 

He didn’t think it was cheesy. He’d been touched. Even as he teased Sasha about ‘the golden rays of his eyes’ for a week straight.

He remembers that. 

But it doesn’t—

He doesn’t—

When the thing that wasn’t Sasha had mentioned her new boyfriend, it hadn’t seemed odd to Tim. He hadn’t felt jealous, or, or hurt. Why would he? He and Sasha weren’t that close. They were work friends, and that was all.

But before that, Sasha had written him a love poem. She’d written him a love poem because he was gone for two days and she missed him. That evening, he remembers, they’d gone back to his place together and gotten wine drunk while watching The Princess Bride. That was Sasha’s favorite movie, which Tim knows because he’d gone through a whole phase of saying, “As you wish,” whenever Sasha made any request of him. Because what he really meant was—

But— 

Tim starts taking everything else out of the box, spreading it across his desk. He starts with the cards, both of them written in Sasha’s messy cursive.

First is the card Sasha had given him for his last birthday. The printed message says, “With Sympathy, to let you know that thoughts and prayers are with you in your time of sorrow.” The inside is crammed with her tiny script, paragraph after paragraph, hundreds of words. It was titled, “A Eulogy for 33.” On the other page, written much larger, “Long live 34! Love, Sasha.”

She’d taken him out to dinner, and when she’d given him the card, he’d insisted on reading the whole thing out loud, even as she’d complained. She was laughing, even as she said, “Tim, I will leave if you don’t stop it.”

Tim stares at that “Love,” for a long time, trying to suss out any deeper meaning from it. Not such a strange thing to write on your friend’s birthday card. She’d cared about him, but he already knew that, didn’t he? The poem said as much.

He moves on to the other card, a Valentine’s day card. There’s a picture of three chickens on the front, and inside it says, “Hope you have a happy Val-HEN-tine’s day!” It was a tradition, between them, bad cards presented with exaggerated flourishes, signed with sickeningly pet names. Tim would sign his, “Your sweetest sugar,” and Sasha would write, “Love, your honeybee <3”

On the inside of this one, Sasha had simply written, “I love you Tim”. Serious and sincere. Tim tries to remember how he felt, reading it. He doesn’t remember finding it strange at all. It had just felt nice. Warm.

He turns his attention to the photos. None of them are polaroids, because of course they aren’t. But they are something. Memories. Evidence. 

The first photo is from the yearly holiday party. Tim is wearing antlers. His arm is around Sasha, and she’s smiling. They’d gone to the party together. But they always went to the party together, and the photo isn’t especially recent. They hadn’t moved to the Archives yet.

Next is a photo of the two of them at a wedding. Tim can’t remember whose. Some distant cousin of Sasha’s. There had been a kitschy photo booth at the reception, and the two of them had taken far too long playing with the props before finally settling down for the photo. They’re wearing oversized sunglasses, a feather boa is looped around their shoulders. Tim had been Sasha’s date then, too. It had been normal for them, going together to parties and events.

The third photo shows them on their first day in the Archives. They’d taken lots of pictures that day, with Jon and Martin and the infamous dog, but this one is just the two of them. Sasha is hugging him from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. Close, because they were close. Best friends. And—

The final is from a research mission they’d gone on together. Tim isn’t in it. It’s just Sasha, sitting on a bench at a bus stop. The sun is just beginning to set in the background, the sky turning from blue to white. He’d taken it because she looked beautiful, and he’d gotten it printed because—

Because he loved her.

He had loved her. Every moment he’d spent with her, he had loved her. How could he have forgotten? He had loved her, and she’d been dead for more than a year now, and in all that time he hadn’t thought about it even once.

He looks at the poem again. Sasha had loved him, too.

He wonders what else he’s forgotten, what else that thing had turned his mind away from. Had there been something, between him and Sasha? That would make sense, wouldn’t it, if they’d loved each other? He doesn’t remember anything like that, but… he isn’t sure he trusts his memories, anymore.

The last thing in the box is a friendship bracelet, made from colorful embroidery thread. Sasha made it, during that first week in the Archives, when they were annoyed with Jon and took whatever chances they could to slack off. “Pink for you,” she’d said. “Green for me. And brown for both of us.” The colors clashed horribly, but Tim still liked the way they looked together. At the time, Tim’s hair had been pink (”your stupid hair,” Sasha’s poem had said). Sasha wore a green cardigan nearly every day. And both of their eyes were brown.

The thing that killed Sasha had blue eyes. How had Tim not noticed that?

He picks up the bracelet, ties it around his wrist. Looking at it makes his heart seize up with grief for Sasha, for something he still doesn’t know how to name.

Good.

***

Tim has one tape of Sasha’s voice, and he listens to it, over and over, rewinding and rewinding. He listens to the cadence of their interactions, the closeness that had existed between them.

On the tape, Tim jokes about them being love interests, and Sasha rebuffs him. Tim remembers this, remembers feeling—frustrated? Sad? No. This happened at the beginning of their time in the Archives, before the cards, before the poem,  but after countless nights out and nights in, parties spent paying attention to no one but each other, countless jokes and secrets and traumas shared between them.

He’d loved her.

And even as he listens to her laughing him off, he knows that she loved him.

There was more to it than this tape. Something existed between them, something precious, something wonderful, and he can’t—

He can’t remember what it was.

***

“Martin,” Tim says, cornering him in the break room one morning. It’s early, but Martin gets to work early, these days. Jon is gone, but what else is new?

“Christ,” Martin swears as he spins around, spilling a few drops of tea on the floor as he swerves. “You scared me. I didn’t think anyone else was here yet.”

Tim shrugs. “I have a question. About Sasha.”

“I—Okay,” Martin says, sobering.

“Do you—” Tim doesn’t know how to ask. It seems like such a trivial thing to be asking about. Sasha is dead, and none of them can remember her face or her voice, and Tim wants to know—what? If she had a crush on him? He twists the friendship bracelet on his wrist, steadies himself. “You were with us every day. Did you ever notice anything—romantic, between Sasha and me?”

“Not really,” Martin says.

“Do you know that, or do you just think it?” Tim asks.

Martin blinks. “What? I—” and then he pauses, as he starts thinking about it. “Oh, that’s weird,” he says, after a moment.

What?” Tim says, and his voice is too much, too desperate.

“It—She—” Martin pauses, takes a deep breath. “It’s hard, thinking of specific events. My mind keeps kind of… sliding away. But I think we used to talk about you?”

“Office gossip?” Tim asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, not—Sorry. That came out wrong,” Martin says. “Did—She wrote you a poem, didn’t she?”

“Yes! You remember that? Hold on—” Tim turns and returns to his desk, grabbing the poem from where it still rests on top of the box. He hands it to Martin, who smiles softly as he reads it.

“Yeah, I—I helped with this,” Martin says. “She—she wanted advice to make it worse. Which—ouch, but… I knew she wasn’t trying to be mean, you know?”

“Yeah,” Tim says softly. That was Sasha. Harsh without meaning to be, never quite thinking through the implications of her words. “Wait—she wanted it to be bad?”

Martin nods. “She wanted you to laugh, and to tease her about it. I mean, that was basically your love language, wasn’t it?”

“Was it?” Tim asks.

Martin hesitates. “I think so?”

Tim is silent for a long moment, staring at the poem. He twists the bracelet on his wrist again. “Were we a couple?”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe,” Tim repeats. “Jesus.” He sits down at the little table, frowning down at the plastic tabletop. How many times did he eat lunch here with her? “It took her face and her voice, and it can’t—I can’t let it take this. If there was something between us, I have to remember, but—” There’s nothing else he can do, is there? If these memories ever existed, they’re gone now. Stolen by the thing that killed her. He slams his hand against the table. “Damn it!” he says, blinking back tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” Martin says, softly. Tim just shakes his head, and after a moment Martin leaves.

***

Two days later, Tim sneaks into the Archive early in the morning, and there’s a new tape sitting on his desk. For a long moment, he just stares at it, anger rising in his chest. Was it from Jon? Was Jon trying to contact him, trying to send him on some mission?

No, thanks.

He picks up the tape, planning to drop it in the trash. And then he sees the note underneath it. “Tim—Listen to this!” Martin’s name at the bottom. 

Not creepy or foreboding at all, thanks Martin. Nevertheless, Tim relaxes a little. There’s a recorder on Martin’s desk, and Tim picks it up and pops the tape inside, leaning back in his chair.

The first few minutes are nothing but Martin, reading his poetry. Martin’s poems are fine, but Tim somehow doubts that’s all Martin wanted to show him. He keeps listening. And then—

The creak of a door opening. “Goodnight, Martin!” It’s Sasha’s voice. Her real voice. Sasha.

“How hard is it to knock?” Martin says, sounding pissed. “You always knock when Jon is recording.”

“That’s because Jon is my boss, recording actual work in his office. You’re in a storage closet.”

“… Fair enough,” Martin sighs.

“Speaking of Jon, are you going to make your move any time soon?”

“Wha—no!”

“Boo, why not?”

“Putting aside the fact that he hates me, he’s also my boss.”

“It’s Jon. He doesn’t have any real authority down here and he knows it.”

“Still doesn’t fix the problem where he hates me, does it? What about Tim? Are you going to make your move soon?”

Sasha hums. “I think I’m just going to leave it, actually.”

“Oh come on!”

“I just… I kind of like what we have now? We’re best friends, we share everything with each other, and we go out and get drinks, and—and there’s no expectation involved. Or—no, that’s not the right word. It’s like—you know how friendship can’t really survive romance? There’s too much passion, too much give-and-take, too much change.”

Sasha laughs then. “It sounds so unromantic, put like that,” she says. “Who wants a relationship without passion? But—It feels special. Like we’ve found a way to love each other, gently. Does that—that probably makes no sense, does it?”

“No, I—I think I understand,” Martin says. 

“It’s like we’re teetering between being in a relationship and being best friends, and I feel like if either of us acknowledge it, we’ll be forced to choose, one way or another. And this wonderful thing between us will be destroyed.”

Martin hums. “I kind of think you should talk to Tim about it anyway?”

Sasha lets out a sigh. “Maybe I will,” she says, after a long moment.

And then the tape clicks off. Tim sniffs, wiping at freshly formed tears, and remembers.

***

There was this one night, the two of them laying in bed together, fingers intertwined between them.

They were talking, softly because they were both on the verge of sleep. But Sasha kept making him laugh, and he was so happy. So happy that it didn’t quite fit inside him, so happy that he felt nearly weightless with it.

He brought her fingers up to his mouth, and she sighed softly next to him. And the unspoken thing between them felt so huge, so real, so all-encompassing.

“Sasha James,” he whispered, his voice slurring slightly with sleepiness. “You are going to be the death of me.”

“All according to plan,” she mumbled, rolling over to face him with a sly smile. “I have to earn my membership to the assassin’s guild somehow.” 

He returned her smile. And then he leaned in to kiss her, still holding her hand.

“Are you happy?” she whispered against his lips. And that was a ridiculous question, because he couldn’t stop smiling. He could nearly cry with how happy he was.

“Yes,” he said, and he felt her smile in return.

“Me too.”

[glittercake]

Shameless 

Part 1: Hit Play

Part 2: Pause. Screenshot

Part 3: Collab

E 🔞⚠️ | 684w | Tags: established relationship; cam work; jerking off; pwp

Bucky replies to Sam's video with a wall of illegible text, more exclamation marks than Sam has ever seen anyone use.

And then he's suspiciously quiet for a while. For about twenty minutes. For about the length of Sam's video. And it sends a thrill up Sam's spine imagining what he's up to, if Sam made him hard, if he's touching himself, if he's rewinding and replaying… which parts are his favorite?

He's naked in their bed now, his skin bare against soft sheets, Bucky on his mind, and he's beginning to perk up with interest again himself when his phone vibrates.

Buck:

Attachment: ▶️ 1 Video

Look what you did

God I love you

That was so hot

Wanna come home

A grin cracks across Sam's face, and he opens the notification instantly, there's a video still of Bucky he's shirtless, seated on a grey couch, his hair loose around his shoulders. The rest is hidden behind the play button.

Sam taps it.

The camera angle is shifty and blurred at first, and the phone falls over from where Bucky's trying to prop it up on the hotel room's coffee table, he curses, sets it upright, then leans down to smile into the camera. A sly, devilish grin that makes Sam's thighs squeeze tight.

Bucky sits back on the couch, spreading his legs and running both hands up his thighs, over the thick bulge in the front of his jeans, then starts slipping the belt free from its loops.

It's torturously slow, Sam wants to scold him to quit teasing, but he finally shrugs it loose and reaches in to pull out his dick. He's got not a damn shred of underwear on, just bare skin beneath.

Sam bites his lip, watching Bucky stroke himself; his dick's big- it's fat and veiny, and he keeps himself neatly trimmed. He plays around with himself first, pushing and pulling and petting himself, circling the tip with one finger, gripping the base and wiggling it enticingly at the camera.

Sam knows exactly how it feels in his mouth, when Bucky smacks it down on his tongue and tell him to open wide. The way Bucky would feed it to him, how he'd fuck Sam's face, the incredulous look in his eyes when Sam takes him all the way down until he gags.

And Sam is rock hard under the covers.

Bucky's wrist starts twisting faster; his abs flex with the movement. Sam can see his mouth parted, his chest starting to rise and fall quickly now.

"Fuck," Sam curses into the silence of their bedroom, his hips lurch forward against the sheets. He's sensitive still, but somehow, this works, just the duvet's soft friction as he watches Bucky jerk himself off.

Bucky's left hand reaches down and cups his balls. Sam copies the movement, imagines it's Bucky's hand on him instead, that cool metal, the dangerous edge of it against his most vulnerable parts.

Bucky moans, squeezes his balls, and tosses his head back. Sam watches as he fucks up into his fist, and by now, Sam's actively started working toward another orgasm.

Finally, Bucky does that thing he does before he shoots off: going tense all over, just about biting through his bottom lip. Then he comes all over his abs and chest and works himself over until not a drop is left.

Sam's watching the mess he made, the shiny, white strings in the groves of his stomach, his metal fingers sliding through it because he's nasty.

He rubs up against the sheets, imagines lapping it up instead, imagines Bucky gently cupping his face, telling him he's gorgeous, and then Sam's gone too.

He comes just as Bucky lifts the phone and smiles at it, dragging his clean hand through his hair.

"Love you, honey," he says and then ends the recording.  

Sam sighs, smiling, his body melting into a blissful, relaxed state.

Before he drifts off, he takes a photo of the mess he made of their sheets and sends it to Bucky. Because maybe he's nasty too.

Me:

📷

Love you more.

[obxparadise]

Habits

Rafe Cameron

Word count: 2,670

~Rafe Cameron’s drug addiction becomes too much for him to handle~

Song: Habits by Machine Gun Kelly

Warning: This is a pretty deep fic. It includes drug use and death by overdose/heart attack. It’s not too graphic, but a warning was needed. 

A/N: Drop a comment if you enjoyed and reblog :) 

*GIF is NOT mine, found on Google. Creds to the owner*

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

Complicated

Frustrated

Underestimated

Can’t sleep, mind racing

Hard to stay concentrated

2017: Alcohol dependence.

2018: Cocaine addiction.

2019: Spiraling into insanity.

Hair follicles flutter to the floor, lying beside sharp shards of glass hiding in the bedroom rug. Rafe’s hands tangle in his hair, tugging, tugging. Eyes flicker between a bottle of bourbon and three perfectly measured white lines on the windowsill. Black Veil Brides blares through the speakers at full volume, but he can’t focus on the lyrics as his father’s words are loud in his brain.

Disappointment.

Worthless.

Good for nothing.

Addict.

The veins in his neck are throbbing, working in overdrive to pump blood through his body. His hands find the sides of his neck, squeezing, head falling back, eyes concentrating on the spinning fan hanging from the ceiling.

Round and round and round it goes. His eyes follow, blinking rapidly, until he tears them away, unable to focus for another second longer. Open palms drag down his face and he lets out a heavy breath that morphs into a dark laugh.

He isn’t a fucking disappointment.

He isn’t worthless.

He isn’t a good for nothing.

And he certainly isn’t an addict.

And if he was, that was the result of an overbearing, abusive father.

It all came down to pressure.

Pressure to be perfect.

Pressure to fit in.

Pressure to please his dad.

Rafe needed an escape from his father. From reality. Everything became too overwhelming. He couldn’t sit back and press pause or rewind or do over. But when the liquor flooded his veins and his nostrils absorbed the cocaine, time stopped. His responsibilities, his life outside of the drugs, ceased to exist.

Sweat drips down his body as he rubs his hands together. A cold shower would fix that no problem, but it would wake him up. Sober him up. He doesn’t fucking want to be sober.

He laughs at the bottle of bourbon that’s dying to be used. It sits there, teasing him. And Rafe gives in, flicking off the cap, downing a quarter of the liquid. It used to burn, but he’s immune to any sort of pain.

He eyes the three white lines next, licking his lips, craving another high. His heart races as he kneels in front of the windowsill. Rolled up beside the lines is a dollar bill and he grabs it, making each line disappear after it. He snorts, snorts, snorts, until there’s not a trace left behind.

The effects don’t happen immediately, but when they hit, they crash hard. His pupils dilate. Blood pressure rises alarmingly. He giggles one minute, and is irritable the next. And as the high wears off, he takes another long swig of bourbon. Over and over. A repeat of a vicious never ending cycle.

Rafe barely hears the pounding on his bedroom door over the music. Ward Cameron lets himself in, face twisting with rage. “Rafe. Rafe!”

He spins around, blood rushing to his ears, baring his teeth as venom drips from his voice. Is this a hallucination? Or is Ward really there?

The bottle is clutched between his fingers and his palm, suffocating in his grip. The mere sight of his father changes his mood instantly. Once pleasant, now violent. “Get out!”

The bottle barely sails over Ward’s head, crashing into the door behind him, shattering to the floor. Rafe’s hands are balled at his side, sucking in sharp breaths as Ward watches his son in disgust, horror, a combination of the two.

When the door closes, the tears fall. Rafe’s body warms, clenching and unclenching his fists. Frustration boils in his blood. His brain is racing, all with thoughts of pure hatred for his father.

Calm. He needs to be calm.

He stalks toward his bed, and as his head hits the pillow, his body relaxes.

Rafe closes his eyes, but he knows he won’t sleep.

He never does.

I fell in love with a very bad habit

But I feel alive for the very first time

“You have a problem.”

“Yeah, and it’s you. Now get the fuck out of my room.”

It was in Sarah’s nature to care, even about her brother, but Rafe wished she wouldn’t.

He kneels beside his bed, emptying the bag of cocaine on a silver platter resting on the night stand. The sight makes Rafe’s mouth water and he fishes inside his wallet for his debit card, splitting the powder into even lines.

“Nineteen years old and addicted to cocaine. You’re going places, Rafe.” Sarah taunts, slouching against the window as she watches her older brother’s descent into darkness. She has no idea just how bad her brother’s addiction is.

He ignores her, fidgeting with the rolled-up bill between his thumb and forefinger. The first line disappears from the plate, and he wipes the excess from his nose with the back of his wrist.

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna sit there and snort coke in front of your little sister? What the hell is wrong with you, Rafe?”

“Sarah, until you experience the kind of pressure I’ve been under for the last three years, you don’t get to judge how I handle it.”

Another line disappears.

“Have you ever thought of something rational? Like I don’t know, maybe therapy?” Sarah suggests in a sarcastic tone.

He chuckles darkly. “I don’t fucking need therapy. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“You know, we used to talk about things,” Sarah whispers, doing her best to try and distract her brother. But the only thing on Rafe’s mind is how badly he wants to be high. “I looked up to you. Now I don’t even know you.”

Another line vanishes.

“Rafe, please just stop.”

One more fades.

“Rafe, stop.”

Another one.

“Rafe, stop!”

And then he collapses.

~

Three sets of eyes stare down at him, one of which belongs to Sarah, but the other two he doesn’t recognize until someone speaks to him. “Young man, we’d like to take you to the hospital.”

Paramedics.

Fuck.

He blinks once, twice, eyes darting from his panicked sister to the stone-faced EMTs who probably had better things to do than to tend to a nineteen-year-old addict who shouldn’t be doing drugs in the first place.

“Is he going to be okay?” Sarah questions, tears welling up in her eyes as she grabs Rafe’s hand, clutching it to her chest. “Rafe, can you hear me? They want to take you to the hospital.”

“No.” A chill shoots up his spine as he opens his mouth, voice hoarse. His answer requires no hesitation. “I’m not going. Help me sit up.”

“Rafe-“

But his body falls back against the floor as he begins to shudder violently. Rafe’s eyes flit around the room, inhaling deep breaths as he tries to find something to focus his attention on, but his brain is screaming for him to find his next fix. Words from Sarah and the EMTs go in and out of his hearing, and he flinches as two sets of hands hold down his arms and legs. The tremors explode through his body and Sarah covers her face, crying frantically into her palms.

“It’s alright ma’am. He’s just experiencing withdrawal symptoms. This usually happens after someone is given Narcan. He’ll be okay in a minute.” The male EMT informs, hoping to put Sarah at ease.

When the tremors dissipate, the paramedics assist Rafe to a sitting position. He’s weak, he’s tired, his throat is scratchy, and blood trickles from his nose. Rafe glances up at his sister, and his heart squeezes in his chest as he watches her cry. For the first time in his life, he feels guilty.

“We cannot take you to the hospital without your consent. So, if you’d like to go, it’s best we take you now.”

Rafe shakes his head and looks toward Sarah, but his words are directed to the EMTs. “No, I’m-I’m fine. I’d like to be alone with my sister.”

~

Rafe’s shoulders fall dejectedly as he huffs out a breath, watching as Sarah flushes the rest of the cocaine down the toilet. He’s seen his sister sad, angry, hurt, but never in full blown panic mode. Her cheeks are stained by old waterworks, and her eyes shine bright with unshed tears. Sarah’s lip trembles as she tries to keep from losing her cool, and Rafe worries if he’s made a huge mistake.

They sit across from each other on the bed, Sarah playing with her fingers as Rafe stares at his sister. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” his voice leaves in a whisper, and he reaches out to touch his sister’s arm, but she pulls away. “Sarah, please.”

“Don’t.”

He throws his head back. “That’s the first and only time I’ve ever OD’ed. It happens.”

Sarah’s face twists in disgust, mouthing hanging open. “What you should’ve said is that will be the last time you overdose, Rafe, as in you’re going to fucking quit.”

“Come on, Sarah-.”

“Why did you even start?” Sarah queries, hugging her arms. Her voice is small, timid, and she avoids looking at her brother. “Help me understand why people like you, who have everything they could possibly want, resort to drugs and throw their lives away.”

The question stuns him, but he won’t hide the truth. He owes it to her, even if it sounds pathetic. “Because of dad.”

“Oh, no,” Sarah breathes, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare blame your damn problems on dad.”

“It’s true!” He reaches over and grabs Sarah’s arms, holding her in place. “You don’t hear the shit he says to me when you’re not around. Worthless. Disappointment. Useless. Good for nothing. I walk on eggshells around him, Sarah. I can’t do anything or say anything without sparking some sort of argument. For the last three years, I have felt nothing. But now,” his laugh is deflated, shoulders slumped forward. “Now I feel alive.”

“Yeah, well guess what?” Sarah fires back, sliding off the bed. She glances back at her brother sadly. She doesn’t even know him anymore. “Tomorrow you might not be.”

I don’t wanna die

But I don’t, I don’t wanna hide

Or keep shit inside

Rafe finds himself barging into the worn out trailer, ignoring Barry’s protests for him to get the fuck out of his home. He beelines for Barry’s bedroom, tossing pillows, opening drawers and closets, until he finally spots the handgun poking out from underneath the bed.

It’s been two days since his overdose and Sarah’s words have been at the forefront of his brain.

Tomorrow you might not be.

Tomorrow you might not be.

All of the emotions he felt the previous two nights come rushing back, hitting him square in the chest, leaving him breathless. He was so close to death, so close. The cocaine had almost taken his life. He wouldn’t let it, though. Rafe would not let the thing he loved most be the cause of his death. He loved the drug, and the drug loved him back. It wouldn’t hurt him. Not again.

“Bro, what the fuck?” Barry’s voice rings out in his room, jolting Rafe from his thoughts. He grabs the gun from beneath the bed, eyes rushing from Barry to the weapon. “Bro put that shit back. That ain’t something to play with.”

Disappointment.

Worthless.

Good for nothing.

Angry tears fall from his eyes as he clutches the gun tight in his hand. His body begins to tremble. From rage? From withdrawal? Fuck. He hasn’t had coke in two days. Barry swallows nervously, afraid of what contemplations are going through Rafe’s head.

Disappointment.

Worthless.

Good for nothing.

The words are loud in his head, deafening, and for a second, just a second, Rafe believes them. He thrusts the gun into Barry’s hands and surrenders. “Kill me.”

Barry blinks. “Are you fucking with me, country club?”

“I said kill me!” His voice is piercing, laced with rage, hurt, despair, hopelessness. “I can’t-I won’t-I’m just a fuck up-He’ll never love me-I can’t-I just want-.”

Rafe sputters as he tumbles to the ground on his knees, body deflating. His sobs echo through the trailer, full of pain and devastation. No, he doesn’t want to die. He just wants the pain to end. “I just want it to go away, man,” he cries, hugging his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth. “I just want it to go away.”

“A’ight bro, I get that. You good, you good.” Barry coaxes, setting the gun aside. He lowers himself to the floor, a good distance away from Rafe, but close enough to grab the gun in case he has any irrational spilt second choices. “You gave me a heart attack though, bro. Shit.”

Licking his dry lips, Rafe runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, man. I just-fuck. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“What’s going on?” Barry asks, rolling his neck, cracking his knuckles.

Rafe releases a strangled breath. “I OD’ed man. I fucking OD’ed.”

“Shit,” Barry groans, hanging his head. “Look man, you gotta watch yourself. I ain’t tryin’ to be responsible for your death, you got me?”

Rafe nods. “I fucked up, bro. I’ve been fucking up for years.”

“Is this ‘bout your dad again? Bro, how many times I gotta say it? Fuck him. He ain’t worth getting this messed up about.” Barry answers, nudging Rafe’s leg with his foot. “He gets to you ‘cause you let ‘em. You’ll be free once you stop giving a fuck about him, what he thinks, what he wants you to be.”

And that’s all Rafe wanted.

To be free.

I wanna run away, yeah

I don’t wanna stay here

Rafe finds himself back in his room, head resting against the door as Ward bangs his fist on the other side. He’s persistent, pounding and pounding and pounding.

“I want you out of this house, Rafe!” Ward yells. “You hear me? Out!”

If only Sarah had kept her mouth shut about the overdose.

Rafe listens as his father’s footsteps disappear down the hall, and he puffs out a strangled breath. He’s entirely defeated. He feels nothing. Not pain. Not rage. He’s fully numb.

He wants to run, but where to? He can’t just disappear, no matter how much he wants to. There’s nowhere to go, but Rafe knows one thing. He can’t stay here.

His eyes flicker to the untouched vial of powder on his nightstand. It calls to him and he responds, heading in the direction of the stand. He kneels, opens the vial, and empties it onto the wood, dividing it evenly.

Rafe takes one look at the drug, the source of his happiness, the love of his life, and sighs. “I can’t stay here. There’s nothing left for me.”

And he doesn’t mean in his home.

No, he means on Earth.

For the last time, Rafe grabs the dollar bill, a single tear slipping down his cheeks. Bending down closer to the stand, he snorts a line, savoring in the instant high. He’d miss the feeling. Feeling happy. Feeling important. Feeling on top of the world.

He snorts three more lines easily.

But the last two he struggles.

The sensation overwhelms him and he pulls away from the nightstand.

Something drips from his nose.

Blood.

It slides down his lips, his chin, and he doesn’t bother wiping it away.

He can’t breathe.

He tries to swallow, but his throat is closing and his nostrils are clogged.

He’s dizzy, vision blurring.

He panics.

And then he cries.

But his cries are cut short as his chest constricts.

Rafe’s hand flies to his chest, attempting to clutch his heart through his sweat-stained polo, now gasping for air.

He collapses.

He tries to call out for help, but his voice is barely a whisper.

His back hits the floor and he lies there, helpless, crying, in pain, and alone.

Time passes.

The pressure in his chest surges.

But then it stops.

And just like that, he’s free.

[epochofbelief]

Breath Control, Chapter Fifteen

An A Court of Mist and Fury College Swim Team AU 

All characters belong to SJ Maas! 

Feysand and Elriel

Author’s Note: Enjoy a bunch of fluff written kinda quick and stay tuned for the announcement for my next fic! Can’t believe only the epilogue is left of this story:) 

Masterlist Link !!! 

FIFTEEN!!

~~~Feyre~~~

“Love the room.”

Having just dropped my suitcase and swim bag on the floor of my new bedroom, I turned to find Rhys leaning in the doorway. 

“Thanks for letting me move in,” I responded, lugging the suitcase from the floor to the bed, ready to start unpacking. 

“Are you ready for training to start again tomorrow morning?” 

“I think I’m the one who should be asking you that, Mr. Still-Slightly-Out-of-Shape. I’m kicking ass right now, if you hadn’t noticed.” 

Rhys slumped down across my bed, his black hair a rumpled mess. 

“Please. Give me one more week and I’ll definitely be traveling to our next dual meet.” 

I gave up on packing and sat next to him. He placed a warm hand on my back, moving it back and forth across my t-shirt. I shivered slightly. 

“Coach is going to announce the rest of the team going to the Conference Championships by the end of Christmas break.” As hard as I tried to keep my tone even, I knew my voice shook as I said what I’d been thinking about for the past month. 

His hand stilled on my back. 

“You’re not worried that you won’t make it? You just got back on the travel team, Feyre. That basically means you’re going.” 

“Yeah, but we don’t know that for sure. I sucked at Conference last year, remember? And I’ve sucked ever since.” I stood up and grabbed an armful of rumpled clothes out of my suitcase. Keeping my eyes on the floor, I padded over to my dresser and shoved the clothes in. I remained there for a moment, staring at the top of the dresser.

“I’m pretty sure those were dirty,” Rhys’s voice came from right behind my back, making me jump and spin around to face him. 

“Ohmygosh you scared the shit out of me,” I breathed, eyes still on the floor between us. 

“Feyre. Look at me.” 

I bit my lip and raised my eyes to his. 

“You’re going to make that team. And if you don’t, it doesn’t change who you are. I’ll love you just the same, if that helps.” 

In some ways it frustrated me that him saying those words was nearly enough to make me feel better. I hated that I was worried about this, that I would be so massively crushed if I didn’t make a stupid sports team. But in most others, I was overjoyed to hear it. My swimming, be it good or bad, didn’t define me as a person. As long as I was giving it my all, day in and day out, the rest was out of my hands. And I cared about swimming, and wanted to be good, even if I’d lost sight of that drive for a while. 

I really wanted to make that team. 

“Besides,” Rhys continued, his hands coming to rest on my hips. “I should be the one begging you to accept me whether I make the team or not. My injury has really pushed me to the bottom of the barrel.” 

I threw my arms around his shoulders and pulled him close. “Thank you. And you know you’re going to make the team. Injury or not, you’re too damn fast for Coach to risk not taking you.” 

He buried his face in my hair. “True.”

I pulled back and smacked his arm. “Watch out, I think your head just swelled to twice its normal size, you humble man.” 

He raised his hands and backed away a few steps. “I speak the truth, and nothing but.” 

I smiled. 

“And that applies to everything I just said about you, Feyre. You deserve to go. You’ve improved so much over the past few months. Especially when I was out of the picture.”

I frowned. 

 “In fact, maybe I should just go…” He continued to back away, aiming for my bedroom door now. 

“Shut up. Get your stuck-up ass back over here!”

“No, no! This is what’s best for you, Feyre darling. I’ll just bid you adieu, and maybe we can talk after Conference. I think that’s the best plan.” He stepped into the hallway and out of view. 

Arms crossed, I stormed into the hallway. I knew he was joking but I could feel my blood boiling. I turned right, aiming for the stairs I was sure he’d be walking up at that moment, and ran straight into a wall of muscle.

I stumbled backwards, but Rhys seized my wrists before I could get very far.

“You know I’m kidding, right?” He kept his grip on my wrists firm.

“I know, but that doesn’t make you any less annoying!” I gazed up at him, breathing heavily, glaring. Keeping my wrists in his grip, he leaned down and brushed a featherlight kiss to my lips. 

“Do I annoy you when I do this?” He pushed me against the wall, both my wrists now pinned above my head by one of his hands. The other he placed on my waist as his lips met mine briefly, oh so briefly. “Because I can stop, if you want me to.”

“Don’t stop,” I whispered, his lips barely a millimeter from mine.

He kissed me again, his free hand roaming up and down my side. “But I thought I bothered you, Feyre darling,” he purred, his breath hot against my neck as he trailed a line of kisses down my shoulder, pulling the collar of my t-shirt back as he did so. 

I managed to shake my head. “No.” 

“Good,” he said brightly, letting me go.

He pushed off the wall and strode briskly into my bedroom.

“What the hell?” I shouted.

“Love you,” he called. “Now come unpack!”

“I take it all back! You win the prize for most annoying boyfriend-slash-roommate ever.”

“Then why are you following me into your bedroom?”

“Dammit,” I muttered, closing the door behind me. 

-----

~~~Elain~~~

Ten minutes into the movie, Azriel and I were wrapped up together inside an enormous quilt and several fluffy blankets. A bowl of popcorn mixed with M&M’s rested between us. My head was on his shoulders, his hand on my thigh. It had been a few weeks since my concussion and this was the first movie I had been allowed to watch since. I hadn’t been able to use my phone or look at any screens per the doctor’s instructions. I was lucky I’d been cleared to focus on things close to my face just in time for school to start tomorrow. And thus, with my “staring at things” privileges returned to me, I planned on staying in that comfy spot on the couch until the end credits rolled when…

“I have to pee.”

I slowly turned my head to look at him. “You did not just say that.”

“I’m sorry, I do!” He started shifting under the quilt but I just nestled closer to him. 

“Nooooo. Why didn’t you go before?”

“What am I, five? I didn’t have to go then!”

“If you weren’t before, after saying that you’re definitely five now.” 

“Just stop the movie so I can go!” Azriel glared at me stubbornly. 

“You have chocolate on your face,” I said, reaching up to rub my thumb against his chin. “Such an adorable five year old.”

“Where’d we land on that movie?” He asked, batting my hand away, but not until I’d removed all the chocolate.

“You should have gone before. Go now but I’m not pausing it! It’s your fault for never having seen Jurassic Park before.” 

“My mother hated anything that had to do with dinosaurs, okay? I never got around to it! Please pause it. Please?” 

“What will you give me?” I said from the corner of my mouth, my eyes locked on the TV even though I had long since shifted my attention away from the screen and toward my immature boyfriend instead. 

“I’ll make it worth your while. Trust me. But please pause the movie--and rewind it a couple minutes. I've missed everything.” 

I made a large show of sighing and reaching for the remote that lay a few feet to my right on the couch. “Fine. Go on, then.” 

He was up and out of the room in a flash. He must really have had to pee. 

Not two minutes later, he was back. 

“DId you wash your hands?” I goaded from the couch.

“Oh my God, Elain, yes I did! Drop the five year old thing.” 

“Okay, okay, it’s dropped.” 

He sat back down, covering himself with the quilt. 

I giggled. He poked me in the side. 

“Okay really. I’m done. Can I press play now, dear?”

“Yes!” 

But after only five more minutes of watching, Azriel, his arm around my lower back, started rubbing small circles on the outside of my thigh. I kept my gaze locked on the screen. After I didn’t respond, he grazed his nose up the side of my neck, kissing the small patch of skin behind my ear. 

“Azriel.”

“Hmmm?” He pressed another kiss just below my ear, then another and another, trailing farther down my neck. 

“You’ve gone twenty-one years without seeing Jurassic Park. Think you could wait another night?”

“I’d hazard a guess and say I could survive another several nights with you and without the movie.” He murmured, now making his way down the skin of my chest that my v-neck left exposed. 

“Alright then.” I shut the TV off and moved the bowl of popcorn to the other side of the couch. 

Azriel pounced. 

He laid me back on the couch and hovered above me. He paused an inch from my lips. “You’re sure? Not five minutes ago you were yelling at me for making you pause the movie for two minutes. . .”

His hands started tugging down my leggings. 

“You must be mistaken,” I breathed, reaching for the hem of his shirt. 

His hand pushed mine away. “I’m pretty sure you’d rather watch that movie right now than do anything else. Or have anything else. . . done to you.” He cocked an eyebrow. 

I pulled him down on top of me.  “Shut up about the movie already,” I said, and kissed him. 

His tongue swept in as his hands made short work of my underwear. I now wore only my pajama t-shirt as his hands drifted toward the exact spot I wanted him to focus on. Our kisses became frantic, heated, before he lowered his head over me and made me forget entirely about the movie.

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

TAGS

@queen-of-glass​ @fabfire​ @sleeping-and-books​ @aknymph​ 

[wordsfromthesol]

It’s All in the Jump

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary:  You’ve known Tim since you were children. Best friends turned something more. Warnings: Language, injuries, blood, ya’know the usual stuff. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: Unhappy endings? Not in this house! Get that shit out of here, life is sad enough!

“Are you ever going to let this obsession go?”

“It’s not an obsession! I just…need to know!”

“Whatever you say…”

“I mean look! Batman got a sidekick!” Tim points dramatically at the computer screen.

“Yeah?”

“Y/N/N, we gotta see them!”

“UGH! Fine! Tell me where and I’ll be there. But only so you don’t get yourself killed!”

Tim pretended to crack his knuckles as he turned back to his computer with a smile on his face. As long as he had the support of his best friend, he knew that he could crack the superheroes’ identities.

A few melancholy days later and Tim rang you frantic, “Y/N! Y/N! You gotta get down here! Like now!”

“I don’t know where you’re at Tim!”

“My house! They are on tv!”

“Why can’t I just turn –”

“Y/N!”

“Okay, I’m coming!”

Really, you only lived down the hall from Tim, but you wanted to push his buttons. You barged through the door and pounced on Tim as he sat on the floor next to the tv.

“Y/N!”

“Alright, I’m watching.”

Tim kept pausing the footage, rewinding, and screaming “There! Right there!”

“All I see is jumping Tim.”

“It’s ALL in the jump!” You rolled your eyes and proceeded to get up and head to the kitchen before Tim scrambled from his spot to follow you. “You can’t tell me you don’t recognize THAT jump!”

“It’s a jump, Tim.”

“But it’s Dick Grayson’s jump. From the circus. Remember the show we went to?”

“At Haly’s? I’m sure many acrobats jump the same way.”

“No, this was him.” Tim grabbed your shoulders and shook you. “Robin is Dick Grayson!”

“Alright! I believe you! Geez!”

**

Your eyes attempted to open, but they were badly bruised. You wanted to stay in your memories, your best memories with your Timothy Jackson Drake. But there were other plans in store for you.

You felt a sharp pain in your side, but you couldn’t turn your head enough to determine the cause. Your memory had to be playing tricks on you, why would anyone care about you? As your vision cleared you began to look around, it seemed to be an abandoned warehouse. You couldn’t see anyone else, but it did look like a bomb had gone off. Bomb? Right, you were working on a story and came into the warehouse after someone gave you a lead. It seemed like just as you had entered, it exploded.

Okay, relax. Can I move? You tried to lift your left leg. Nothing. Right leg? Relief flooded through your body as your right leg twitched at your command. You tried your arms. A sharp pain flooded through your body as you attempted to lift your arms one at a time. Okay, almost unbearable, but working. You glanced around for your purse, spotting it about 12 feet in front of you, contents spilled all around it. Sucking in a deep breath, you braced yourself for the oncoming pain.

It felt like hours had gone by, but you finally reached your phone. Praying it still worked you inched your finger towards the now shattered screen. The background flickered and a distorted image of you and Tim at Haly’s circus flashed across the screen. You winced as the image involuntarily brought a smile to your battered face. Lying on the floor, you listened to ring echo through the warehouse. Tears began to fall down your face, as his voicemail came across the phone.

“Hey Timmy,” your voice meek and strained, “Don’t be mad. You told me to wait for you…” You stopped to catch your breath, it was getting harder to breathe. “I didn’t.” A small whimper left your lips, “I lo –”. Everything faded to black once again.

**

“What did I tell you, Y/N/N?! Isn’t this amazing!” Tim stood in awe in the center of the Batcave.

“I just can’t believe you convinced Bruce to let me tag along!”

“I couldn’t leave my best friend.” Tim smirked as he nudged you before running over to the computer. “LOOK AT THIS! Think of how many databases I can access from this! FBI, CIA, MI6!”

“You’re such a nerd Timmy.”

“Yeah but I’m your nerd.” Rolling your eyes, you stalked over to the computer to join him. You had to admit, your best friend was pretty amazing. The connections he drew from the smallest details left you stupefied…and the look on his face now. You knew you would remember this forever.

**

“No…no…no. Y/N. God. No.” Tim rushed towards your side, ignoring the blood pooling around you. “WHY COULDN’T YOU WAIT FOR ME?!” He pulled you into his lap and held you tight.

“Tim, we gotta get her out of here. I got the Batmobile.” Jason kept his voice low and calm and he walked towards his brother. Tim glanced up at him and nodded as he scooped you carefully in his arms.

**

“How did you rope me into watching this?” Tim scoffed about half-way through Murder on the Orient Express.

“Because it’s a great movie!”

“But it’s so predictable!”

“It’s a classic!” You threw a pillow towards the other end of the couch, where he sat with your feet in his lap.

“Oh, that’s it.” He launched at you, pinning your wrists above your head as he started to tickle you.

“That’s not fair!” You struggled to get the words out between spurts of laughter.

“Life’s not always fair Y/N/N!” Suddenly you thrust your knee up and it hit him square in the chest, causing him to double over and fall off the couch.

“Oh my gosh! Tim!” You knelt beside him on the ground, worried until you heard his stifled laughter. He opened his eyes and noticed how close you were. Before you know it, he had pulled you closer and pressed his lips to yours.

“God, I love you.”

**

“It’s been days! Why is she not awake yet!”

“Maybe because you’ve been awake enough for the both of you.” Tim shot daggers towards Jason, he was not in the mood for his quips. “I’m just saying, you need sleep too, Timbo.”

“I’ll sleep when I know she’s okay!” He screamed as his finger shot in the direction of the med bay.

“Tim,” Dick walked over and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Alfred is sure she will be fine. Her body is just taking time, so it can recover. She lost a lot of blood. Her femur was shattered. Three broken ribs –”

“I get it. You can stop relaying all the injuries my girlfriend has, Dick.” Tim whipped his head around once he felt a slight prick in his arm. “Damian, what the hell.”

“You would not sleep voluntarily. So, I helped.”

“What do you mean –” Tim’s words were cut off as he began to slink to the floor. Dick moved to catch his brother, while shooting a look of disapproval towards Damian, who just shrugged.

“You know this was the only way Grayson.”

**

“Why can’t you just wait for me, Y/N/N?”

“Because if I wait for you, I will never get to follow-up on this lead.”

“It’s intel on a drug ring, you can’t go in alone.”

“Well maybe if I knew a superhero not glued to the damn computer, I wouldn’t have to.” Tim didn’t hear the words, as he just got a new lead himself, on a case involving Two-Face. One that Bruce asked him to look into. You threw your hands in the air, well aware that you were no longer the topic of interest. “Whatever, Tim. Maybe when you care about me as much as,” you walked over to his computer, “Two-Face, then we can actually hold a conversation.”

“What about Two-Face?” The name sparked interest in Tim’s mind, that’s what he was investigating after all.

“Nothing, Tim. I’m going to the warehouse tonight at 6. Come if you want, but I won’t hold my breath. I know I’m second place.”

**

Tim woke up several hours later, in his old room at Wayne Manor. “That little demon.” He huffed under his breath, quickly making his way back to you. That can’t be his last memory of you. You were so mad at him, and it was all his fault. He couldn’t let you die mad at him, you meant everything to him. He made his way downstairs to see Damian next to your bedside, and was he talking? Were you awake? Tim broke into a run.

“I am glad you are okay Y/L/N. I do not think any of us could handle Drake if you were not there to reign him in.” Though words still failed you, a faint smile lined your lips as you lightly squeezed the young Wayne’s hand. “Sorry I had to sedate him.” Damian moved to get up as soon as he saw Tim running towards you.

“Y/N!” Tim ran to your side and embraced you. You let out a small cry in pain but didn’t mind. He, however, pulled away at the sound. “I’m sorry…I just thought I lost you.” He grasped your hand as he sat beside you. “You are always first place. I never want to make you feel otherwise, ever again.” You slid over and gestured for him to join you. Wrapping yourself in his arms, the two of you slowly drifted to sleep.

[talltales]

            —MINIMIZING WINDOWS, PICTURES LIT BY ELECTRIC LIGHTS             FICTION/FACT BOUNDARIES COLLIDE, FIND ME IN MY PALM SO BRIGHT                                                            anonymous request!!

“i didn’t know if i could sit through another hour—“

a flash of icy light from the corner catches her eye; draws her ear to the echoing of giggles bouncing off the walls over a mechanical click. she presses a button, watches the volume bar rise higher and higher—to the very limit of what her little phone is capable of.

rewind. the noise disappears, hidden under layers of tinny acoustics. canned laugher and sardonic dialogue.

“i didn’t know if i could sit through another hour of this guy explaining his industrial revolution theory again, so i booked it while he was in the bathroom.” sunyoung, the free-spirited painter—a stereotypical hippie—puts her hand on her hip and shakes her head, “changmin—remember that name so i never accept a date offer from him again.”

“not my job,” says her roommate from her perch on the couch, thumbing through the pages of a fashion magazine.

someone starts singing happy birthday loudly. she tilts her headphones a little higher; presses them closer to her ears.

rewind.

“not my job,” says her roommate from her perch on the couch, thumbing through the pages of a fashion magazine. her hair is pinned into some ridiculously intricate hairstyle for a day at home. her heels click against the floor, “you don’t shop for clothes online. why would you shop for men?”

another flash.

this time, she doesn’t look away from the drama playing out on her screen; reaching instead for the half-empty glass of water resting on the edge of the table. quietly, she drains the remainder and bites into the last ice cube lingering at the bottom.

this episode of ‘친구들’ is brought to you by—

a passing figure bumps the chair her feet rest on, tipping the chair onto it’s side. without a look back, he disappears into the crowd gathered around the ‘dance floor’—a space designated by a faded chalk square cut into the center of the large room. with a frown, she pushes her phone into her pocket and steps around the chair after righting it.

the noise, without the shelter of her tv show, is a roaring cacophony of camera clicks and cheers; videos and pictures being recorded for posts that’ll be forgotten in a week. still, it doesn’t stop the teens from chronicling every moment—rehearsing postures and scripts; hitting record, then stop.

recording again.

it might as well be a movie set, for all of the carefully planned productions that take place in the room.

the only unmoving bodies in the space stand at the perimeter, engrossed in their phones—faces lit in blue light as they take sips from their drinks. the nearly florescent beverages sit tucked into the nooks of the bookshelves that line the walls. maybe there’s some benefit to building a nightclub in the basement of a bookstore, even if she can’t see it.

the clashing of neon lights and velvet armchairs is odd. the ornate desks lined up to form a makeshift bar is jarring.

behind it, the bartender works quickly and silently, only casting the occasional glance upward as he mixes drink after drink after drink. he moves in the same way that a pianist might; by memory more than cognition, producing duplicates of pretty sugar-topped things backlit in neon yellows and pinks.

she thinks of a sunset, and it—unlike the smell of cheap body spray mixed in with old books—isn’t such a terrible fit.

when he does address one of the girls leaning on the counter, phone held above her in an unmistakable sort of way, his words seem to get lost in the vast, empty space between her ears. biting back a sigh, she weaves her way through the mass of bodies and forces the words out in a single breath, “what are those drinks you’re making?”

she pretends not to notice the way his eyes light up; pleased, she supposes, by her innocent inquiry.

“house special,” he answers, with a barely detectable accent that teases her curiosity. she finds herself tugged by it, as if by a string tied around her little finger.

she doesn’t ask, at least not about that.

“and what’s in it?” as she waits for his answer, she rests her elbows on the edge of the desk and studies the old scratches littering the surface. there are a fair share of new ones, though not many.

“i could tell you,” absently, he pours a clear liquid into a shaker. a couple cherries follow it, then a lemon slice. intrigued, she meets his expectant gaze.

“or i could make you one, and you can guess.”

reluctantly, she nods and watches as he slips again into that effortless series of movements. there’s an element of grace that he brings to the art of bartending. she wonders what brought him here of all places. the question, again, rests on the tip of her tongue.

again, she asks another.

“what’s your name?” her fingers curl around the drink when he sets it before her, taking in the swirl of pinks and oranges that she’s never quite seen before. at least not in this particular way.

“just call me bam,” there is the faintest hint of humor in his answer, and she assumes he is enjoying some private joke, “now, i have a question for you. what brought you here? you seemed pretty comfortable in your corner.”

he nods to the abandoned table, couched between an oddly placed loveseat and a dining chair. she busies herself with taking her first sip; catching condensation on her fingertips as she toys with the cherry resting on her tongue.

“i was bored,” she answers after a moment, chancing a look at the man—caught momentarily in the way his silvery hair catches the light and glows a dazzling shade of gold, “and i was wondering what was in this.”

again, he looks amused when she holds up the glass and inspects it from the bottom.

“so? what do you think?”

“cherries and lemons, obviously.”

“obviously,” he—bam, she reminds herself—echoes, with a smile on his lips that holds her attention for a second too long. behind her, another camera flash bathes the room in white light, and she watches it dance across his jawline—flare in his too-bright eyes.

it occurs to her, as his small smile grows full; into something that makes her head swim a little, that maybe the drink is a little stronger than she’s used to.

“so?”

she is drawn back by his gentle prompting and the soft tapping of his finger against the back of her hand. right. the drink.

“cherries and lemons, a little salt?” when he nods, she smiles faintly against the lip of the glass and takes another sip, “vanilla rum?”

his hand doesn’t move away from hers.

she attributes the way her focus strays to the contact again to the emptiness of the glass resting against her forearm. she allows her hand—eager thing—to turn beneath his touch, palm up.

“what’s your name?” he questions at last, in a tone that is as much invitation as it is inquiry.

and she decides to do something a little different then; play the game that bam has started. when he stretches his hand to cover hers, drawing his fingertips across the delicate skin of her wrist, she returns the gesture and watches him pause—

only for a moment, but it’s enough.

what a lovely drink, she muses when she sets the glass down, all too aware of the way her pulse skips beneath his fingers, “tell me what’s in the drink and i’ll tell you my name.”

“cherries and lemons. salt.” bam leans forward then, lowering his voice to something conspiratorial—as if the vapid souls behind them would be paying enough attention to even notice or care, “vanilla bean syrup.”

again, he looks so so amused. his lips part, and her eyes follow the movement. her head swims.

“it’s non-alcoholic.”

[kayyeffsee-blog]

Bangtan fics that I’ve read and liked (will get updated)

uhh, so the thing is that a lot of jikook fics will be in here, as it is my otp. But I have  also put in many others. Thank you!!! (this goes in descending order, so newer ones will come on top, and i still have a lot of older fics, they’ll come at the bottom) (all fic titles in italics are my ult favs and all ships in bold have their plot and are not just implied)

On Patrol  and  On Patrol - Season 2 : jikook, yoonseok, namjin, police au, LOVE this series, check it out!

summary: Officer Jeon has his eyes on Mr. Adorable.Officer Min has a strange neighbor he can't seem to keep out of his life.Captain Kim finds comfort in his son's homeroom teacher. Well, cops need some loving too, right?

A Gilded World : i cannot believe this fic aint down there, yoonjin, must read, chaebol au (i love them), ULT FAV, kdrama au, with vmin who has a tiny storyline too, and side namseok, rated E, 169k words, bros jinkook, READ IT, the fic that got me interested in yoonjin.

summary: Jeon Seokjin has exactly four weeks to stop the impending engagement of his younger brother, doomed to a loveless marriage. The only way to stop it is to make a better match, more advantageous, more lucrative for the Jeon family. It's impossible. It's his only option.Min Yoongi does not want, will never want, will never ever even consider, marriage. It's not in the cards. He's stubborn enough to achieve the total ban on marriage talks. Except maybe his grandmother is a little more stubborn than he is, and maybe she's determined to see him march down the aisle.The chaebol arranged marriage au that exactly one and a half people asked for.

baby, love me hard and hold me tight : jikook, ceo kook, tsundere-yet-not-so-tsundere min, lots of smut, dancer jimin. summary’s too long.

all the light we cannot see : yoonkook, spaceship au, tsundere yoongi, wow i read a lot of those, rated E, 109k words.

summary (part of it):  (when jeongguk finally gets his chance to sail the cosmos, it’s onboard the ship of an aggravating man named min yoongi. he thinks it’ll be extraordinarily dull—but the universe, and the legend of treasure planet, have other plans.)

note: another not so common yet not completely rare pair, i honestly love this fic so much.

nobody's like you  : jikook, college au, pissed jimin,dense kook, a cute fic, rated T, 20k words. 

summary: if you have a crush but you don't know you have a crush, is it really a crush? and other great philosophical debates with jeon jeongguk.

or, jeongguk kinda fucks up and jimin can only take so much.

흰 여름 ('White Summer') : yoonmin, non-au, lil angst, rated T, 24k words. 

summary: “Diversity,” Namjoon had said when he had explained the concept to them. “Learning to love yourself, no matter what.” “We already did that,” Yoongi had pointed out. “Literally the same title.” But Namjoon, when he looked at him, had seemed strangely bright and somber at the same time. “Not like this,” he had said.Or, Jimin and Yoongi have to kiss for an MV. And deal with the fallout.

7 Minutes in Heaven : yoonmin, highschool au, fluff, mutual pining, rated T, 8.4k words, too long a summary.

♛ Chrysoprase ♛ : vmin, abo but with a twist, aristocracy au, ongoing, a piece written beautifully, rated E, 39k words, rich tae and poor min.

summary (partial):  Taehyung is a rich boy who gets captivated by a trapeze act from an unknown Omega at a theater show sending him on a ride of emotions--and ruts. 

   Mono No Aware : jikook, rated E, 104k words, divorce au, model agency au, summary’s too long.

Cotton Candy  : highschool au, yoonmin, highscool band au, another GREAT fic, set in the 90s, 240k words, rated E.

summary (partial):  As spring turns into summer, school band Cotton Candy unexpectedly loses its singer and the members are forced to look for a new vocalist. Six boys find one in the form of the promiscuous pink haired boy Park Jimin who makes a home in their hearts and finally finds a place he belongs.

Beta Tau Sigma : come FIGHT me, but this IS a classic, frat au, i scrolled through this long ass post twice, i cant believe its not down there, namjin, you need an ao3 acc to read this, anyways i suggest you to make one, crack, 123k words, rated M, shenanigans, side yoonmin with a tiny storyline, FAV. 

Before This Christmas : taegi, non au, amnesia, a great fic, rated T, 8k words, summary’s too long.

black versus blue : taekook, soulmate au, a LOT of angst, i LOVE this fic, hurt/comfort, dr tae, side yoonmin and namjin, rated E, 41k words.

summary: Taehyung had always dreaded meeting his soulmate, unlike the rest of the world’s population. He always hid the words scrawled in black cursive on the inside of his right wrist and felt terror at the thought of them turning blue, of his soulmate speaking them.

And as he sprinted down the packed Seoul sidewalk, hot tears streaming down his cheeks and sobs choking his throat, he knew he'd been right.

Or was he?

sick boy : vmin, LOTS of homophobia, fluff and angst, dystopian korea, its a really good fic, rated M, 8k words, side namkook and yoonseok.

summary: Jimin has always lived in a society where pride was held higher than anything else. His kind nature is unwelcome, and he spends most of his life alone.

Taehyung is the boy who dyes his hair every week, is too eccentric for his own good and is, most importantly, not like the rest of the town that they live in.

Look out the window, do you see love? : jikook, I LOVE THIS, kidnapping au, ceo kook, college student min, tsundere kook, heavy smut and drama, rated E, 100k words, summary too long.

a blessed touch, skin deep : yoonjin, slightly platonic, oneshot, fluff, massage au, but not the smutty kind, rated G, 3k words.

summary: Hoseok recommends his favorite masseur to Yoongi.

Yoonjin Massage AU, with side Hoseok/Jimin and Taehyung/Jungkook

the heart of a siren : jikook, pirates au, angst, enemies to lovers,rated E, 92k words.

summary:  Beware of what you take from the sea. She is not a treasure to be plundered, but a dark, vast void that will swallow you up and think nothing of it.

The Collabofornication : yoonmin, idol au, rapper au, lots of smut, 32k words, enemies to lovers, rated E, 32k words, summary’s too long, really good.

teeter totter : jihope, such a cute fic, 5+1, i love this one, neighbours au, 5k words, rated T.

summary:  five times jimin accidentally stumbles into his neighbour and the one time it’s very much on purpose.

Take Care : a short jikook, accident au, angst and fluff, rated G, 2k words, college au.

summary:  Roommates Jungkook and Jimin are in the midst of a friendship rift until an accident brings them together again.

Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo : yoonmin, rated T, royal au, 34k words, cute, i really like this twist on classics kinda thing.

summary: Everyone (including Taehyung, Jimin's best friend) could only talk about the ball the royal family was going to give in honor of the princes. Every single one was thinking and worrying about which clothes they should wear and how to impress the two, very single, princes. Jimin? He could only think about the new regular, who had a sweet tooth and the cutest smile he had ever seen.

The Universe Has Moved For Us, Without Missing A Single Thing : minjoon, such a feel good fic, tsundere min, canon, with a bit of yoonjin, so good, rated M, 14k words.

summary: Jimin is tasked to create his next comeback with his least favourite producer at BIGHIT, RM.

He is petty and bitter from day one.

Or, is he just really bad at feelings?

yesteryear's charms : jikook, hp au, a lot of fun, enemies to lovers (if you dont know, im a sucker for this particular trope), rated M, 18k words.

summary: After losing a bet, Jimin has to perform the Jingle Bell Rock routine from the iconic Muggle film, Mean Girls, at Hogwarts' annual talent show, dressed in red pleather and black knee-high boots. He receives a bigger reaction from certain people (read: ult rival Jeon Jeongguk) than expected.

a dose of salt : jikook, I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS FIC, with a lot of taejin, doctors au, enemies to lovers, pls check it, its great, rated E, 145k words, ongoing, almost finished.

summary: Park Jimin is a renown cardiothoracic surgeon—a genius, a medical prodigy, the best surgeon at the hospital. He’s kind, friendly, handsome, and patient. He’s also the son of the hospital’s Chairman. But nobody needs to know that since he’s worked for and earned everything he’s accomplished on his own without the help of nepotism.Everyone loves him. 

Everyone but Jeon Jungkook, the hot new military trauma surgeon straight out of the army. The decorated veteran is brilliant and quick witted, but has a hot temper and absolutely zero tolerance for bullshit.

When Park Jimin makes a bad first impression on him, things get extremely salty between the two very different personalities.

playing with fire : vmin, ONE OF MY ULT FAVS, rated T, 30k words, college au, drama actor v, dancer min, enemies to lovers, SO GOOD, laser tag.

summary:  Despite never seeing eye to eye on things, Taehyung and Jimin find that they have more in common than expected through a game of laser tag, a play and a dance competition.

At 4 O'clock, I'll Stay : vmin, footballer (soccer) v, bar owner min, enemies to lovers, a good fic, grumpy min, rated E, 35.8k words.

summary (part of it):  the one where Taehyung goes to Jimin's bar to talk bad about his latest soccer matches and Jimin waters down his drinks by "accident."

Happy Ending : namseok, implied OT7, massage au, rated M, smut, 2.3k words.

Rose Quartz and Pink Opal : such a good fic, i love this, if its down there im sorry just tell me in the comments, jikook, rated T, 21.4k words.

summary:  “Everyone is born with either 1 or 2 small powers. If 1, then your soulmate has the other. They will swap the first time you see each other, and you will obtain both when you fall in love. If born with 2, you have no soulmate.”

tell me how to make this better : hurt/comfort, angst, vmin, non au, such a good fic, go check it, summary’s too long, rated T, 44.6k words.

loverboy : vminkook, a masterpiece, manipulation, assasin au, powers au, rated M, 9.7k words.

summary:  this much jimin’s figured out: sometimes, somehow, his words make people fall in love with him.

Never Judge a Book by its Cover : jikook, rated M, library au, 25k words

summary: Thanks to Jungkook's idiot best friend, he drowned the books he borrowed from the library. Now, he has to work there to work off his debt. He doesn't really like the job but that one boy that always has his nose burried in his books makes his days much better.Or in which Jungkook meets bookworm Jimin and falls harder than he thought he would.

note: squeelll, I love this fic!

we've got chemistree : jikook, rated T, 19k words, fake dating au. (can’t put summary bc its too long)

note: I love love love it. do check it out.

The Pink Envelope : yoonmin, no ratings, 12k words, highschool au.

summary: to a prompt I received on tumblr "Oh shit, sorry I got the wrong locker" When Jimin is sending love letters to his crush via locker but fails because it is Yoongi's locker.au where 6 of them are highschool students (Jin has already graduated)... and Jungkook is also in highschool with the rest of them (please don't ask me why I just want him to be there hahahaha)

note: cute and fluffy.

Him : jikook, rated M, 35k words, college au, dancer!jimin au.

summary: 'And like the dawn, you woke the world inside of me You were the brightest shade of sun when I saw you' or “I mean a muse,” explained Yoongi, eyes traveling to Hoseok. “Someone that makes you feelthe shots. Not only take them.”Jeongguk snorted. “You’re just whipped.”“Maybe,” agreed Yoongi, winking. “But it works.”

note: touched my feels, lovely.

Nu ABO: A Memoir by Park Jimin : jikook, rated E, 34k words, non au, a/b/o au.

summary:  The world didn't think it was necessary to give him a guide when it shoved all of these omega hormones at him, so here it is, Park Jimin's handbook on dealing with heats, unrequited love, and Jeon Jungkook.

note: amazing! Omega jimin dont wanna be an omega, and tries really hard to be an alpha. easily one of my faves.

Blackjack : yoonseok, vmin, namjin, chat fic, game fic, slightly creepy but light hearted, happy ending, not your ordinary chat fic, LOVE this, puzzles, mystery, rated T, 78k words, summary too long.

Fake Sugar : jinkook, rated E, non-tropey sugar daddy au, competitive eater jin, rich jungkook, fake sugar daddy, 87k words.

summary: im sorry, its too long. but ill put part of it.

(Hedge Fund wunderkind and Certified Awkward Gay Jungkook needs a sugar baby to show off at work, and Professional Competitive Eater and Objectively Beautiful Human Jin just wants to stop working shitty side-jobs. Fake Sugar Daddy AU. A trope and a half.)

note: a rare pair fic. (that rhymes, lol) i love the author, i have read all of his fics, i think. 

Worldwide Lonesome : yoonjin, rated E, 39k words, non au.

summary:  After the BBMA, Yoongi starts bringing guys back to the house.

note: i honestly love this ship and fic, it talks a lot about how closeted jin is and this fic has a great characterization for jin.

 Pause, Rewind, Play: jikook, non au, rated G, 3k words.

summary:  Jimin doesn’t know why it starts. Maybe it’s the eightieth post he’s seen today about him being rejected by Jungkook. But whatever the reason, Jimin starts to not care anymore.

note: loovve it, short and really good.

The Boy in the Music Box : yoonmin, mystical au i guess?, college au, rated T, 52k words.

summary: Yoongi doesn’t really expect anything special when he finds an old music box in his grandmother’s attic and she tells him to keep it. Oh sure, he expects the music box to be a pretty decoration to add to the stale interior of his small apartment. He expects it to play a tune and he might even dare to expect the barely-functioning little ballerina to dance along to the soft chimes, but that's it, really.The last thing he expects is for the little ballerina to take human form at night and throw his life out of balance with radiant smiles, soft giggles, and a heart-wrenching story.

note: another author i absolutely love, this fic is amazing. its one of the only fluffy ones that has made me weep! do check it out

pick me up, buttercup : taekook, soulmate au, crack au, 9k words, rated G.

summary: AU where your soulmate's first words to you will be tattooed on your wrist when you meet. Which freakin sucks, because Jungkook's forearm will now forever read "Hey baby, if you were a booger, I'd pick you first."What the fuck, universe.

note: a very light fic, i love it so much. its really really good.

Cherry Tree : yoonmin, hanahaki au, angsty, rated T, 10k words.

summary: Yoongi always thought that Jimin looked like a cherry blossom, like Spring had manifested itself in the form of a human.Now he knows for sure.

note: really good, not a tragic ending i swear.

good game, well played : vmin, library au, college au, rated G, 23k words.

summary:  AN EXCERPT FROM PARK JIMIN'S PLANNER (ft. Jeon Jeongguk) -grammar reading :( -get pasta -buy the nice guy from the library ❤MY BIG GAY CRUSH❤ coffee

note: super good, college aus are one of my favs.

fairy brat : yoonmin, 3k words, rated T, supernatural au.

sumary: “I don’t know if you know but,” Namjoon says, “Hoseok’s roommate is a little… difficult. Yoongi hyung is a good guy, though, I promise.”“Anyone who lives with Hoseok hyung can’t be that bad,” Jimin says.Jimin could not be more wrong.

note: tsundere yoongi, really good!

The Perfect Japchae : yoonjin, 19k words, rated T, neighbours/college au.

summary:  In the eight months he’d lived here, neither of them had done more than nod in greeting when they passed in the hallway. Most of the time he just ignored Kim Seokjin and went about his own business while inwardly seething. A little voice deep down questioned why, exactly, he was so pissed all the time whenever he thought about his neighbour… but Min Yoongi really didn’t have an answer.

note: i love this pairing, such a good fic!!!

aye, love (you led me to a miracle) : yoonjin, rated T, 6k words, Cafe AU, tsundere yoongi.

summary: It’s six in the morning and all Yoongi wants is some fucking coffee.(Not to be, not to be assaulted with a possibly illegal stare and a smile that could probably bring dead flowers back to life, god dammit)

note: such an amount of fluff, i love it.

I need you boy (you're beautiful) : jikook, chat fic, rated T, 18k words.

summary: (part of it)

t h e d e s t r o y e r: jimin who is ur future husband

ChimChimz: ok so like

ChimChimz: here’s the thingy

00ngi: omfg you don't even know who he is

ChimChimz: uM

note: love it, really good.

to be with you : jikook, rated T, non au, 4k words.

summary: 5 times jungkook tries (and fails) to confess to jimin and the 1 time he succeeds.

note: really cute fic, but i think ill not put notes on all fics now, im getting fed up

A Wish Your Heart Makes : kook/everyone, polyyy, smut, another venturing into newer waters fic, rated E, 16.6k words.

summary: "This can't be the right translation," Taehyung says, before Jungkook can do something crazy like just ask to suck Jimin's dick. Taehyung has his phone out, and is frowning as he taps the screen. "But I looked it up on Naver, and there might be something called sex pollen? Sex pollen? Like, plants?"

gladly beyond : jikook, 21k words, rated M, enemies to lovers fic, sports fic.

summary: too long, but jimin sees the tattoo of his “enemy” at a strip club.

note: another trope i love :)

Riptide : jikook, i actually visited this 10 times?!?, rated M, non au, 62k words, rated M.

summary (part of it):  A three year story [2013-2016] of coming together, breaking apart, and putting each other back together again. Jeon Jungkook learns about change, growing up, and the hardships of falling in love with a friend.

note: really love it

Hey, Baby, I've Got My Ion You : jikook, chem au, bad puns, rated T, 4k words.

summary: 

everyone: fvck the maknae jimin: i'm trying - (aka: chem au where jeongguk jumps two grades and becomes jimin’s lab partner and maybe a little more than that.)

note: copper tellurium (loll)

honest you do : jikook, idol au, reality show au, 26k words, rated T.

summary: “Do you think you’ll be a good husband?” Jimin smiles. “I’ll really, really try.” 

Korea's darling, Park Jimin, gets married.

note: a great fic, honestly.

In the Line of Fire : jikook, are you even here?, if so ty, frat au, 11k words, rated E.

summary:  For some reason, Jimin was everyone's favorite target.

A truth universally aknowledged : yoonmin, college au, rated T, 6k words.

summary: "It is a truth universally aknowledged that Park Jimin has the most wanted ass out of the whole college."AKA 5 times that Jimin gets asked out and Min Yoongi butts in + 1 time where the tables are turned.

Unrequited : yoonjin, taejin, hanahaki au, rated T, 3k words, not a happy ending.

summary: The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. It can be cured without side effects only when the feelings are returned. 

Seokjin starts coughing up crimson-red rose petals.

pulling shapes just for your eyes : taekook, reality show au, rated E, really good (i cant be bothered to make a note lol), 110k words, a lot of sex.

summary: The number one rule when you're a producer on a show like Miss Right, Taehyung thinks, should be do not fall for the bachelor. It's such a shame Taehyung has never been good at following rules.

ringa linga : fluff, yoonmin, one-shot, best man au, rated G, 3k words, crack.

summary: Best man Yoongi needs to pick up the rings for his best friends' wedding. The problem? The clerk won't hand them over.

Enter lifesaver and fake-fiancé, Jimin.

note: light-hearted, really fun.

Heart of War : namjin, 173k words, royalty au, really frickin good, ongoing, rated M.

summary: For the protection of his people, Prince Seokjin has to marry his fiancé’s killer: the alpha king of the most ruthless and feared kingdom in all the lands with a reputation of being a cold blooded monster on the battlefield.

Worst of all, the omega prince doesn't even speak their language.

my heart flutters from the sugar high : taegi, I LOVE THIS FIC IT’S SO GOOOD, <cough> 5.9k words, rated M, canon compliant, crack, every so slighty tropey, just a teeennyy bit, fake dating au.

summary:  Yoongi and Taehyung sneak around together, cheating on their diets. The group? They've drawn different conclusions.

Seeking Alpha : jikook, I love this author, 17k words, rated M, a/b/o fic, but not the wolfy (lol) kind, i guess you could say ‘in a modern setting’, cracky.

summary:  It was meant to be a “fuck you” to the dating world as Jimin knew it. He was done with dating, fed up with alphas, so he put a message out to the world to say so. How could he have guessed the sweetest alpha ever would respond to it just to prove him wrong?

The Jeon Pack : jikook, a/b/o dynamics, THE BEST abo fic you’ll ever read, 70k words, rated E, the wolfy kind (heh)

summary: Jungkook's pack had survived centuries in the cold unforgiving forest. They followed strict traditions and laws to ensure their survival against nature and rival packs. Soon the responsibility of leading the pack would fall on his shoulders but before assuming the position of head alpha, he needed to choose an omega mate.

The problem was that Jungkook was in love with an omega that hated his guts.

浮世 U K I Y O : yoonmin, i’m pretty sure you’ve read house of cards and songbird and the sea??, this one goes in the same category, a breed of those two classics, Mafia au, rated E, almost complete, 366.9k words, oh and btw if you haven’t the above two ill link them right below.

summary: “Is that what they say about me? I'm stuff of nightmares?” “You own a city and you painted it with your colors,” Jimin says, his voice is quiet and his scent subdued. “Why wouldn't people have nightmares about you? You are scary.” “Are you scared of me?”Yoongi owns a city that he painted red until a man that doesn't seem to truly exist steals something from him. And all the strings lead to Jimin, a succubus who works in one of his brothels.

House of Cards : the LEGENDARY fic, vminkook, gets you right in the feels, dont waste your time here go read it, 394k words, rated E, mafia au.

summary: Jungkook is the heir to a mob empire, the most notorious in the whole of Seoul. Taehyung is a rookie sent in to infiltrate by his select team and bring the empire crumbling down."You knew the game and played it, it kills to know that you have been defeated."

The Songbird and the Sea : AGGHHHH, THIS IS THE BEST FIC EVERRR, made me love pirates, yoonmin, just read it, 255k words, pirate au, rated M.

summary: (wayy too long, go read it!!!)

time slip : jikook, rated T, alternate canon, 29k words, time-related fic

summary:  Jimin wakes up in the year 2017, which is very strange, considering the fact that last he checked it was 2013.

note: a great canon fic

A Glass of Water : jikook, but namjoon pov, a fresh fic (others aint rotten mind you), 8k words, rated T, college au.

summary: Namjoon is maybe a little over protective of Jimin and takes it upon himself to find out the identity of his new boyfriend. The others are absolutely no help.

Or, Jungkook and Jimin are dating and everyone knows except Namjoon.

You Broke My Heart (but I broke it myself) : jikook (haven’t you gotten fed up yet XD), anggstty, 19k words, rated M, alternate au.

summary:  Jimin's fiancé has abandoned him on his wedding day, and Jeon Jungkook, Jimin's first love and worst heartbreak, is back.

You Don't Bring Me Flour : short jikook, fluff and crack, college au, rated G.

summary:  In order to graduate, Park Jimin must convince cute grocery cashier Jeon Jungkook that this sack of flour is his beloved child.

Shooting Stars and Silver Moons : vmin, rated E, 20k words, fake-dating jikook, college au, bff fic.

summary: Yoongi and Jimin make a bet, Taehyung makes bad decisions.

(Or: "I'm kind of pissed you didn't choose me to fake date, I'm your best friend")

blindside : namhope, namseok, blind date au, rated T, i love this fic so much, 12k words.

summary:  Hoseok finally somewhat has a date. A blind date, but a date nonetheless.

The Shaman and the Exorcist : namjin, spiritual au, ghost au, but not the scary kind, college au, cracky, rated M, 145k words, apparently i visited this fic 21 TIMES (gasspp), i LOOVEE this too

summary: (too long)

in your eyes (it's where i wanna be) : yoonmin, tooth rotting fluff, rated T, 5k words, college au.

summary: Jimin pauses with his marker inches away from the cup, because — is he really going to do this? Isn’t it a bit old-fashioned to write something flirty on a coffee cup? But no matter what his churning gut says about danger and what the hell are you doing do you want to die, this guy is — with no better way to put it — totally Jimin’s Type with a capital T.

(Or: Jimin accidentally starts a nickname war with the cute blonde who likes his coffee way too bitter.)

i'll stick to you like glue-cose : jikook, rated T, 7k words, enemies-to-lovers kinda, really good.

summary:  Jimin merely wanted to study in peace, yet a certain five-foot ten frat boy - unfortunately also a past hook up - that epitomizes the very definition of smugness in one entire body whose ego is as big and full-scaled as the national debt, won't let him.

you're only brave in the moonlight : smuutt, bff au, vmin, college au, rated E, 14k words.

summary: There are reasons, very specific reasons that justify why—in three years of being hopelessly pathetically in love with his best friend—Jimin has not said a single word. Certainly hasn’t made a single move or attempt at a pass.But when it comes down to it, three years is a long time. A very long time.So when Jimin’s dam breaks, it breaks hard.(Or, Jimin asks Taehyung for help with taking photographs.)

(it's a paradise) it's a war zone : jikook, vacation au, really cute, enemies to lovers, rated T, 7k words.

summary:  murphy's law states that "anything that can go wrong will go wrong." jimin could maybe make peace with that if it didn't mean sharing a room and a bed with jeon jeongguk, the thorn in his side, for the entirety of his vacation.

once upon a timeshare : jikook, ex fic, rom com style, cute AF, 32k words, rated E.

summary:  Jungkook is in desperate need of a vacation, but spending two weeks in Namjoon and Hoseok’s timeshare in Okinawa with his recently separated ex of three years was probably (definitely) not what he had in mind.

Tie Me Down : taegi, lovvveee this fic, really fun, has drama elements to it, rated M, college au, 24k words.

summary: “I’ve just woken up with a fucking splitting headache, to find myself fucking taped to an office chair in a fucking living room that smells like unwashed socks and takeaway food. How am I? How do you think I fucking am?” “Wow. That’s a lot of f-bombs you’re dropping. Did anyone tell you that you need a healthy dose of positivity?” 

In which Yoongi’s life is a parody of Taken and Taehyung is just trying his goddamn hardest not to get arrested.

a sugar coated pill and a pick me up : soccer dad fic!!! namjin, kids taekook, rated T, really good, rated T, 25k words.

summary (only a part):  namjin are soccer dads who fall in luv

shōnen-ai love you : one of the most fun and cute (read: fluff) fics, vmin, rated T, manga fic, high school fic, 4k words.

summary: "What if I woo him with what he likes?" Jungkook frowns. "Knowing you, it's going to be a disaster." "I'm in pursuit of Park Jimin," Taehyung tells them dramatically, just as the bell rings and the teacher starts writing the first question on the board. "I'll do anything."

Doing anything means, apparently, studying BL manga.

My Cup of Tea : cute and short, minjoon, 6k words, high school fic, milk tea (lol) fic.

summary: One of Taehyung's many admirers tries to woo him by bringing him milk tea every day but Taehyung is lactose intolerant so it's always Jimin who drinks it.

From a distance away, the admirer watches.

Pastel : POLLYY, not really my cup of tea but i wanted to explore you know, jungkook/everyone, i liked it kinda, bdsm, baby kook, daddy kink, rated E, 188k words, bottom jk.

summary: Jeongguk learns the age-old lesson that you can't run from who you are, or who you like, for that matter.

There are a LOT of fics left, I’ll slow update.

[therestismutlol]

Bereft • Lucas/ Wong Yukhei x Reader (Part 1)

➢4828 words

➢Thriller, Romance, Angst

➢(Y/n) was considered a nuisance that wanted to get in the way of Lucas’ love for her bestfriend, Yuqi, so she was disposed of in the cruelest way possible. But then, just when she thought it was all over for her, time rewinded for (Y/n). Rewinded enough for her to figure out a way on how to stop Lucas from obsessing over Yuqi, and ultimately killing her. She would do anything just to stop Lucas from turning out the way he was in the near future, if she could.

Warnings: unhealthy dynamics, graphic violence, suicide, dark themes overall

*

“Please… don’t do it…”

Your voice came out shaky and breathless. His eyes bore into yours-- a beautiful color of dark brown, but still cold, just the way you remembered it.

It shined brightly than ever under the moonlight, silver and sharp, the knife.

“There’s no reason for me not to,”He smiles emptily, teasing the point of the weapon ever so lightly at the skin of your jaw. “We’re almost at our happily ever after. You’re the only one who’s holding us back.”

“She’ll never be happy with you!”You spat at his face, feeling brave. He flinched, then wiped his face with the back of his hand. The three-second silence between the two of you was short, but it felt like weeks. You knew what was about to happen next. You were just not ready.

He then began to laugh. The last courage that you had in your body was gone, and when he met your eyes once more, breathing seemed hard.

He yanked your hair by surprise making you let out a displeased yelp. His face neared yours, as well as the knife.

“You talk too much,”

You tried your hardest to wriggle out of the ropes that bounded your wrists to the creaky wooden chair, but as the point of the knife dug a little bit deeper in your skin, you felt weaker.

Salty tears stung your eyes, looking at his face. It was too bad it would be the last thing you’ll see before you could even warn her. You hated how the corners of his lips curled upward, pleased at your demise. Pleased at how his plan would go as planned.

“Do you know what needs to be done with people with annoying mouths like you?”

You blinked at him. His smile grew wider.

And then he slit your throat.

***

“(Y/n)!”

You opened your eyes and sat up straight. You looked around, only to see a black-haired girl sitting beside you, frowning.

“Yuqi… you scared me,”You sigh, clamping your hand over your chest, feeling the fast beating of your heart.

“No, you scared me,” she says, “I thought you’re going to die in your sleep.”

“What was I doing?” it was now your turn to frown at her. She laughs.

“Wipe the tears off your face. You were crying.”

“What..?”you proceeded to do so, and was surprised to see that she was actually not messing with you.

“What did you dream about?”Yuqi asks, and you paused.

“Something horrible,”you tried to laugh, but then ended coughing for a bit she had to pat your back.

“I actually died in my sleep. Got my throat slit and shit.”

“What the heck, that’s horrible.”Yuqi’s face scrunched up as she tried to picture the morbid image in her head. “Who killed you?”

“I don’t know. You, maybe?” you shrug, before gathering your things and standing up. She followed suit, and just as you two exited the library, the school bell rang, signifying the start of your afternoon classes.

It was the second week of school but it feels like it’s already been months. You’ve underestimated highschool, you thought you would do as well as you did in middle school. But after you got a big fat C on your first math exam this school year, you’ve lost motivation and abandoned all hope. If it wasn’t for your bestfriend, Yuqi, maybe you’ve already requested to drop out and do some homeschooling.

Your heeled shoes clicked against the hallway’s tiles as you made your way to English class in a hurried manner. You two climbed up the stairs and then turned a left, only to bump into someone. More like Yuqi, because she was the one who really collided with this person. Yuqi looked up to glare at the man.

“Hey, watch where you’re going—” she stopped midway and her facial expression softened upon seeing a familiar face.

“The…the new kid! You’re Lucas, right?”

You widened your eyes.

“Please… don’t do it…”

“There’s no reason for me not to,”

“She’ll never be happy with you!”

“Do you know what needs to be done with people with annoying mouths like you?”

You blinked at him. His smile grew wider.

And then,

Lucas slits your throat.

You suddenly felt light-headed, as if you were sleepy. Your vision blurred, everything swayed like hell.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)?”you could hear Yuqi’s voice laced in concern, as she grasped your hand which reached out for her wrists for balance.

You felt sick. You wanted to vomit. But you couldn’t, because there’s something blocking your air passageway. You couldn’t breathe.

***

You were shaken.

You fluttered your eyes open, and colors flooded your vision. You blinked sleepy tears away, and yawned, not surpised to see your mom looking at you with a deep frown.

“What did I do now?”

“You have the audacity to sleep while you parked your bicycle in the middle of the garage?!”

You were suddenly awake, your breath hitching as you realized the mistake you made, and what punishment awaits you.

“I…I forgot all about it,”

“God, (Y/n), what did I tell you about keeping your things organized? Go and fix your bike!”

You sprinted to the door and headed to the garage, obviously trying not to piss her off even more. You saw your bicycle laying at the middle, so you rushed and sat it up, guiding it to the corner.

“Done!”you huffed and then headed out.

As you went out of the garage, you saw the roof of the house next door. Yes, only the roof because the wooden fence guarding the house was too tall for you to see the other house from where you’re standing. The roof had a lot of birds sitting on it. They were cute birds.

“Sweetie!”you heard your mom call you from the inside, snapping you out of your reverie.

“Yes mom?!”you hollered back, going iniside the house.

The house smelled of apple pie. You knew she was baking a lot because the smell was stronger, sweeter than usual you inhaled the scent sharply.

“Do you want to come with me and give this to our new neighbor?”She immediately asks once you set foot in the kitchen, raising a paperbag of what you assumed to be the apple pies.

Coming over to meet with adults is boring. You opened your mouth to say no, but you stopped then frowned.

It seems like this already happened before.

“Yup.”

You don’t know what got into you, saying yes even if you really didn’t want to.

It’s like something was pushing, forcing you to say yes. It’s like, if you ever picked no, you’d be regretting it for the rest of your life.

Ten minutes later you were now standing in front of the house whose roof you’ve just saw earlier—practically everyday, hand-in-hand with your mom.

She pressed the doorbell for the seventh time, and you thought she’d be sick of waiting by now because you REALLY are at the moment, but then the door finally opened.

A kind looking woman greeted you both, and invited you two to come in after she introduced herself as Anna.

The house looked a bit similar to yours indoorly speaking, but different when it comes to decorations. The house was very clean and minimalistic, while yours was just… you know. Messy.

“We’ve actually already eaten dinner already, but I really appreciate the apple pie,”she smiles and takes the paperbag from your mom’s hands.

“You could eat it as a dessert,”You butted in, making the two pairs of eyes settle on you. The lady laughs along with your mom, and then pinched your left cheek, making you wince.

“Your daughter is so adorable! How old is she?”

Your mother caresses your hair as she answers with a smile, “She just turned eight,”

“Eight? I have a son who’s at the same age. Would you look at that,” Mrs. Anna grins at your mom. You frowned.

Huh, that’s weird.

“I don’t remember you having a son.”you muttered.

The two mothers looks at you the same way whenever you start talking about the ghost living under your bed(which is true by the way). You didn’t get why, and you got even more confused when they started chuckling.

“Of course. This was your first time meeting me afterall,”

Huh. “Right…”

“By the way, would you like to meet him?”Mrs. Anna nears the stairs before you could even respond, and you turn to look up at your mom.

“That’s great, Anna,”She smiles happily at her, before looking down at you.

“Go play with him. I’m sure he’s just as nice as her.”

“There’s someone I would like you to meet,”Mrs. Anna shouts, “Lucas!”

The tinkling sound of the chimes hung at the front door seemed clearer and louder to you.

The boy hurried downstairs. His thin and short frame was enveloped by a white shirt and denim overalls.

“Yes, mommy?”

“This is (Y/n),”your mom says.

“Hi (Y/n),”He presents his hand in front of you. “I’m Lucas.”

“…I know.”you looked down, at his socked feet—ignoring his hand.

You can’t bring yourself to shake it—heck, you can’t even look at his eyes. At those dark brown pair of eyes, the last ones you saw before you heaved your last breath.

You were scared. You were scared because you remember. You remember that he would be the one who’ll kill you. But it’s not just that.

You were scared because you don’t know why you’re eight again, and why you’re meeting him now. You were sure that if he was part of your childhood, you would remember. You would definitely recognize him, even if it would be from a long time ago, because you did recognize Mrs. Anna. Mrs. Anna, a kind neighbor and a friend of your mommy from a long time ago. So why…

It doesn’t make any sense.

“She’s just shy,”your mom says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “But she’ll get used to you sooner than you expected.”

Lucas then suddenly grabs your hand, which made you yelp in surprise. He then shook it, and you couldn’t help but notice how he grinned at you.

“Don’t be shy (Y/n)! I’m not going to hurt you.”He assures. “I like girl friends too. But I only have airplanes and cars and guns and Superman action figures, are you okay with that?”

You finally meet his eyes.

Lucas frowns when you don’t answer, and he slowly lets go of your hand.

“…or, if you don’t like playing with toys for boys, maybe you could bring your girl toys…?”

He’s nice.

“It’s fine.”

You could see how his eyes slowly light up in joy and excitement at your words. He wasted no time in pulling you upstairs, into his room that had a bed, a study table, and a shelf that were full of toys that he had mentioned earlier.

He grabbed an armful of toys and scattered it all to the floor. He then sits at the middle, and he beckoned you to do so as well so you followed suit, taking a seat in front of him.

“So, I’d be Superman, and you’ll be whoever you choose but you should probably be my pilot or driver. To escape the enemy, you know…”

He was acting like an eight-year-old, like he was supposed to.

Looking at him right now, he seemed to be a happy and healthy child. You wouldn’t think of him as a person who would grow into a crazed psycho in the future. Why…

“Hey, are you even listening?”

You blinked, and gave Lucas a small smile.

“Ah…yeah. I was just about to pick the airplane. I’d be a pilot,”

“Oh okay,”

What happened?

What turned this sweet cherub into the sick person he was in the future?

***

“Bye!”

You looked at Lucas from your shoulder who was waving frantically after you. He and his mom were at their front porch to send you and your mom off.

You smiled at the boy, your hand tightening its grasp at your mother’s.

“Come back, okay?”

“Okay.”you nod.

You turn your back on him, but then—

“Promise?”he called.

You look at him again. Your mouth was dry.

“Promise.”you said, but it was a whisper. Strangely enough, he still heard it, and he grinned,

wide,

and genuinely.

***

You knew this wasn’t a dream. It has been two months ever since you woke up as eight-year old you. As each day went by excruciatingly slow, you have come to an acceptance of your situation. It was still unclear as to how this happened, and why, but since you’re here, you wanted to have a goal to accomplish.

Why did Lucas turn out the way he was in the future?

While you know that he would surely be the one who’ll cause your death, you still don’t know why would he kill you.

What was his intentions?

You knew that you knew, but you can’t remember. You tried your hardest to go back to that day, to go back your entire highschool days, but everything was blurry.

There were two things that you need to know in the course of ten years.

Ten years. A really long time.

Really tiresome to live out the days you’ve already lived, experience the moments and sensations you already experienced. Still tiresome, but you put all your cards on the table at the alterations that you’ll make.

This was your second chance. A second chance to live, and not get yourself killed by him.

Today was the last day of summer, and you were planning to visit Lucas at his house again—to play, as usual.

A knock on the door startled you, making you drop the rainboot you held.

“Get the door!”your mother yelled from the kitchen, and you sighed, putting on the left rainboot before going to answer the door.

“Hi,”

Speaking of the devil.

“Hello Lucas, I was just on my way to your house.”

You open the door wider for him to enter, and his raincoat-wearing self welcomed himself inside.

“You hang your raincoat over there,”you say, pointing to the clothing rack near the both of you, and he immediately followed.

There was something wrong with him today.

Because your goal is to know when did he harbor such a psychotic mind, you took note of his expressions. Everyday,to the point where you’ll notice the slightest change in his mood. You’d say you know Lucas like the back of your hand now.

“What happened?”you ask immediately, and he met your eyes.

It’s because this Lucas,

“Dad’s home.”

Was very honest.

You blinked. His dad.

You haven’t met him before. But whenever you ask Lucas, his mom, and your mom about him, they only say his dad was faraway, working. Even at your past life, just like Lucas, you haven’t met him either.

“Well, that’s great, isn’t it?”you give him a grin.

He shook his head, and then you frown.

“Why?”you ask again.

“I don’t want him home.”

“(Y/n), there’s cookies in the kitchen--”

The two of you looked at your mother who entered the living room in shock, and she reflected the same expression when she saw the young boy at her house.

“Lucas, I didn’t know you’d be here,”

“…I’m sorry for intruding,”

***

The rain stopped. Lucas leaves the house at five, and you watched him do so from the window. Watched him turn a left and disappear behind the tall wooden fence.

A tall glass of milk and a bowl of cookies still weren’t enough to get decent words out of him.

He wasn’t usually like this, so it was weird. It was easy to make him talk, it was easy to read him, but now it was really hard.

He was never this troubled before.

You didn’t want to jump into assumptions, to conclusions,

But could it be…

***

His father was, indeed, bad news.

You now get why Lucas was so upset.

Three weeks. Since school started, since you last came over to Lucas’ house, since you talked to him.

You see him at school. But he wasn’t approachable-- either because he was surrounded by all these other kids, or because he was nowhere to be found.

You tried to wait for him outside his house to maybe go to school together, but he always comes out with his dad so you end up hiding then heading your way.

You need to talk to him.

“Lucas!”

He looked at you over his shoulder.

You panted, holding on to the nearest wall for support. You weren’t exactly athletic at this age, running was definitely not your feat but you tried to catch up with him. This was the only chance you’ll ever get to talk to him. At the hallway, in the middle of transferring classes.

“(Y/n),”

Short but quick talk. That was the only option you two could have at the moment. What is happening in your household? Answer honestly. That’s what you should say.

You stomped over to him, and he looked down at you. He grew a couple of inches.

“What is happening in your house—”

“Nothing?”

Your mouth was left hanging open, the ghost of your words at your lips. You blinked, and tried to see through his dark brown pupils behind long lashes. But you couldn’t see anything.

“Answer honestly,” You say, louder. But it seemed like it intimidated him as he widened his eyes.

“I…I’m sorry,”he says, before turning his back on you.

“Wait—!”

He winced.

He winced when you grabbed his arm.

Your eyes widened at the same time the beat of your heart quickened.

He was wearing a jacket.

You roll down the sleeve up to his elbow, albeit harshly, because he tried to shake you off. But your determination and resolve was stronger, able to overpower him.

Purple and dark.

His eyes met yours, this time, expressing an emotion you desperately wanted to see for a long time.

The bruises that were on his pale skin bloomed purple and dark, staining. Marking. Telling you a story, and it was the only thing you needed to know everything.

“Lucas…”even your voice was unsteady.

He rolled his sleeve down again, before giving you one last look and running away.

You were left there, at the hallway, in the sea of students scrambling towards their next class, drowning in your own thoughts.

***

“Honey, go back to your room.”

Lucas stared up at his mother. The front door’s handle was being shaken, and a loud banging soon followed.

“No,”he says firmly.

It was always like this. He was sick of it.

“Lucas,”she kneels in front of him, taking ahold of his small face. “What did I tell you?”

“I don’t care anymore.”

“Open the door,”

The both of them snapped their heads toward the front door, the source of the slurred voice. If Lucas knew any better, his dad was outside leaning on it with heavy eyelids.

“Go up. Now.”His mother says, shaking him slightly on the shoulders.

She fed his fear, and now he was running for the stairs. Just as he closed his bedroom door, he heard the front one open. And he’s crying again.

***

A week passed. Lucas stopped going to school.

You thought it was only you, but then you couldn’t even see him go out of the house anymore.

What’s happening?

You couldn’t focus at anything over the course of seven days, as your mind went to him and his family only. Maybe it was because of your age, because your sensitivity heightened and you would cry easily, cry almost everyday but it was just so frustrating, the situation you’re in. It’s even more frustrating because you can’t do anything about it, you don’t.

This morning, you told your mom what you saw a week ago. It turns out she was also worried about the kid and Anna, and she was also worried about you.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t know,”she hugged you, and your tear glands worked once again, making you cry loudly on her shoulder.

You didn’t go to school today. For the first time, your mother didn’t force you to.

What was happening in that house?

You tried not to think too much, but then when you were left alone in your room, under the sheets, alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t fight back the voice in your head.

What if you told your mom about what you saw and observed a tad bit earlier? Would he be saved? Or maybe if you tried harder to communicate with him. Forced him to be with you in school, snuck in his bedroom every night?

But you didn’t, because you were irresponsible, stupid, ignorant, and a huge coward.

You started crying again. This was your last chance. And now you were going to fuck it all up?

What if you’re too late? What if—

You gasped.

Everything suffocated you.

You looked around, and saw your things shrinking. You tried to go to the door and open it but you weren’t able to because it already moved towards you on its own, and so did the other four walls. You screamed as the Earth seemed to close on you, but you couldn’t hear your voice. And then everything turned black.

A loud bang.

You sat bolt upright, and you met eyes with your mom who slept beside you. She was also frowning.

“Mom, what was that sound?”

“I’ll… go check. Go back to sleep”

You watched your mom go out of your room. Sleepiness washed over your eyes, and you fell into deep slumber once again.

“Mommy, what was the loud noise from last night?”

Fruit loops tasted delicious as always. You got a spoonful with milk then delivered it straight to your mouth.

“It…was fireworks.”

“Fireworks?”

“Y-Yeah. Fireworks.”

“Dad, where’s mom going?”

You eyed your mother dressed in a black dress, searching for something in every drawer. Your dad hummed , sending vibrations on your back as you sat on his lap.

“She’s… going to visit a friend hers.”

“But why is she sad?”

“She’s not,”your father says, and you trusted him, even after you saw her bloodshot pair of eyes.

You opened your eyes.

It was going to happen tomorrow morning, 3 am. There was no doubt, it was a fragment of memory from your original childhood.

You got out of your bed, and you rushed down the stairs. You saw your mom at the foot, on the phone with whom you assumed was the police, and you immediately scream at her.

Someone is going to be shot in that household.

“MOM! STOP!”

Without thinking, you swat her phone away from her, and it fell on the rug. She looks at you questioningly, but you held on her waist tightly to show how you wanted her to pay attention to you so much.

You figured why you only knew Mrs. Anna, and why you’ve only met Lucas now.

In your original past, you never said yes to your mom whenever she asks you to come over her friend’s house. That’s why you’ve never met his boy, his husband. You’ve only know Mrs. Anna as the new neighbor who comes over sometimes, but then suddenly, she just…didn’t show up. And your mom would never talk about her ever again.

“Mom, let’s get Lucas out there, now.”

***

When will everything end?

Lucas looks at his leg, and found the newly-formed purple bruise on his calf.

He felt like crying, but he couldn’t. He was tired. He wasn’t a science whizz but he thought maybe it was also because he ran out of water in his body— it’s been a day since he had a glass, and his throat was drying up.

The house was terribly silent. He would go out and check what’s happening to his parents, especially his mom, but his bedroom door was locked from the outside. He assumed that his dad was probably sleeping at the moment.

He misses school.

Even his toys bored him now, seeing it everyday.

He misses playing with (Y/n).

He misses the peace and quiet that the household once had before he came.

“Why did you have to come home…”he whispers.

A loud knock startled him and snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked at the door, expecting another set of knocks to follow right after, and it did.

Only, it wasn’t from the door.

He whipped his head toward the source of the noise, which was at his one and only window.

He saw a familiar face.

“M-Miss (L/n)?”

He went near the window and opened it, letting the afternoon air come inside his room.

“Lucas, we need to go now.” Miss (L/n) offered a helping hand towards him and he looked at it, hesitating. But then his mother’s words echoed inside his head.

“This place is a living hell, so if you have the chance to escape, then escape. Don’t look back. Don’t let anything hold you back, not even me.”

He gulped, before taking the expectant hand of (Y/n)’s mother. Together, they climbed down the ladder and once they got to the ground safely, they both ran. Out of that house’s property, out of that hell.

Lucas saw (Y/n) waiting for them at the porch and when she saw them, her face immediately lit up, and then she cried. Big, fat tears as she ran to hug Lucas.

And then he, too, began crying. He cried into the arms of the two women, the pent up frustration, sadness, and hurt inside him bursting out in the form of loud sobs.

***

“What the hell are you doing, taking in a child that isn’t yours?!”

“He’s being abused, (F/n). What was I supposed to do, turn a blind eye—”

“Then you should’ve just called the cops!”

You hid at the top of the staircase, watching how your mom and dad fought.

Of course it’s your fault. You always feel bad when you see your parents fight, but right now, you don’t even care. Lucas’ life was at stake, and…well… so was yours.

You slowly returned to your room, and saw the expectant-looking boy on your bed.

“Sorry Lucas,”you gave him an apologetic smile. “We ran out of milk.”

He looked disappointed. Well, maybe because you had promised to let him taste the newest variation of milk in the market— strawberry milk, only to return empty-handed.

You sighed, before jumping in the bed with him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“A-Ah! (Y/n)!”he winced, but you disregarded his discomfort and hugged him down.

When you sensed that he stopped fighting back, you giggled and released him, to which made the frown on his face deeper. Once you saw his expression, you couldn’t help but laugh at how funny it was.

“What?”

“Nothing,”you smiled, “That wasn’t the last carton of strawberry milk. I’ll buy you a lot tomorrow.”

Lucas blinked, and his eyes shone hopefully once again. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”you nodded.

“And the day after that?”

You paused. Well, that’s a bit…

You nod. “And the day after that,”

“Lots and lots and lots?”

He’s a bit too naïve. He does know that you still don’t have a job, right?

“Lots and lots and lots.”you nodded. “We’ll keep seeing each other anyway.”

A smile slowly graced his lips. “Promise?”

“Promise.” ‘Only if you don’t kill me in the near future.’

The grin on Lucas’ face.

You wanted to believe in it.

Believe that it had a bright future for the both of you, and that everything shouldn’t be the way it was like in your past future.

That smile would be the start of change.

“Can I hug you again?”Lucas questioned, which took you aback.

“I…o-okay…”

Tomorrow, you’ll mom will call the cops on Lucas’ house because for now, the rest in this household decided on a peaceful night.

***

A loud bang.

You sat bolt upright, and your eyes searched for Lucas who slept beside you. Your room was dark, but you could outline the softly-breathing figure of his. He was still asleep.

You widened your eyes. That can’t be.

Lucas…is here.

You started to shake in fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

Why…

Your bedroom door opened, revealing your panicked, scared parents.

“Mom… dad…”

It still happened.

Somebody was still shot.

You were wrong. It wasn’t Lucas who was shot on this day.

Your parents ran up to you and engulfed your crying self into a tight hug. The commotion caused the kid beside you to stir, finally awoken.

You thought you finally did something.

Change, chances…

There wasn’t even one in the first place.

“What… what’s happening?” came Lucas’ little voice.

You cried harder at the realization that your fate might not change afterall, and that you’ll still die in the hands of the same boy who looked at you with sad, concerned pairs of round eyes.

***

Part 2 ->