#nerd smoothness only lasts as long as the game does

[bluedalliances]

Or read it on ao3, that's cool too <3

When it becomes evident that the end of the world won’t be a one night event, but a slow burn catastrophe, domesticity starts sneaking back into everyone’s lives. At first is subtle, someone sleeps in one morning, the older teenagers open a few beers under the sun, and Max’s laugh, loud as always, can be heard from the street. They need the small things, silly little pleasures that keep them from going absolutely insane while they wait for hell’s next move.

In those moments, Will realizes, the headquarters (Steve’s place) feel like an actual home for everyone.

His mom and Mrs. Henderson start knitting together on the couch. They say it’s because they’re going to need extra blankets if the situation extends into winter, but they spend most of the time talking and trying to teach anyone vaguely interested how to use the needles.

Soon after, Max decides it’s the perfect time to show more stuff to El, and Dustin jumps into it immediately. He picks a corner in the living room and makes a small but extremely organized archive with all their comics, books, movies, and tapes.

Even if everyone is leaving their favorite things there, Will is afraid there will be no place for his interests. After moving to California, he had gotten more and more into world building and fantasy, writing and illustrating all the campaigns he once would have shared with his friends. However, last time he saw any of them, they had been less than interested in games, monsters, or stories. And sure, they had been playing at Hellfire all year, but he still can't shake the memory of Mike’s bored rolls and Lucas’s amused look, like he was trying to indulge a child with his silly games even if he wanted to make fun of him, or the way they would cut every session short, never getting to finish their last campaign.

In the end, it’s Gareth who gives him the push he needed. One afternoon, the boy knocks at his bedroom door, looking nervous and rambling about how he thought maybe Will would like to put his D&D books next to his and Eddie’s ones, but of course he doesn't have to, it was just an idea because everyone said Will was a great DM and filled his books with notes and that sounds really cool, you know? They end up talking for hours while they go through whatever the others left and add Will's stuff to it.

It's an odd collection, and now there’s always someone showing something to El or fighting to be the one who does, but also going through the homemade library themselves, listening or talking about their own interests, as they realize they can share everything they love with the others. They even bring the older ones as “guests” to talk about different things. Jonathan and Eddie introduce them to punk, metal, and poetry, Nancy brings her scrapbook of “inspiring women of history”, Steve shows them his favorite romcoms and explains which things actually happen in real life and which ones they should never put up with, Argyle and Gareth go on a long discussion about the merits of Latin American music and their favorite protest songwriters, and Robin explains the use of idioms and sarcasm. At first, they extend the invitation to everyone, but have to put a quick stop to it when Joyce tries to give them the most awkward attempt of a bees and birds talk. Later that night, Will tells her that Steve made sure they knew everything they needed to a while ago, and immediately makes her swear to never do something like that again.

As the sight of small groups gathering in the living room becomes an everyday thing, Steve picks up baking again. That one involves a short talk between Hopper and Owens, where Jim ever so subtly informs him that while his kids might have lost everything, they will not be losing the joy of their hobbies, specially if they involve chocolate. After that, there’s always a “Steve” package in their government-provided supply boxes, and the house starts smelling like cinnamon and lemons all the time. Everyone loves it, especially Eddie. It doesn't matter how early you wake up, you can find him in the same spot on the counter every morning, holding a cup of coffee and smiling in silence as Steve makes breakfast for everyone.

The last thing to come is Eddie’s campaign.

What he planned to be a simple one shot to entertain everyone on a rainy day, quickly turned into a six-week adventure that now is close to its end. They finally found the BBEG, an undead wizard that’s behind decades of hardships in the reign, and are close to defeating them, but also close to death. Lucas is down, Dustin and Mike are paralyzed, and even if Will hasn't rolled below 17 all night and Erica’s Barbarian is a force to behold, they are in trouble. Gareth has been getting shitty rolls all night, and he’s the only one left before it’s the Lich’s turn. If he fails, Eddie will attack Will, it’s the logical thing to do, and facing such a dangerous monster without a cleric would inevitably end up in TPK.

“Let's face it, I can't do it, we’re all gonna die,” says Gareth as he buries his face under his hands.

Will pats him on the shoulder and tries to ignore the tingling that spreads from his fingertips when they graze on skin over the neckline of Gareth’s shirt. “We’re not gonna die, you got this,” he goes for a smile, but is pretty sure it comes out all wrong and stiff.

Gareth meets his eyes, barely leaving his hiding place, but before he can do anything else Mike interrupts.

“No, he’s right, we’re gonna die.”

Everyone turns to glare at him. There have been long talks lately about the way things are said within The Party and how they can be hurtful.

“What?” Mike looks around the table, suddenly defensive. “The highest he rolled today is an eleven! It’s okay, it happens to everyone from time to time, I’m not trying to be an asshole here.”

Gareth sighs, and Will is pretty sure he’s ripping out his own hair with the way he’s pulling at it.

 “He’s right, guys. I guess I really upset the Fates this time.” Even if it starts in an overdramatic tone, playful and filled with the group's usual drama, he suddenly sits straight and turns to Eddie. “Do you think it’s because I didn’t let that Demodog eat Biscuit? Maybe his life was supposed to end that day and now they'll punish me for ruining their plans.”

He’s so serious about it that Will can't stop the laugh that escapes him, and a second later everyone follows. Even Steve, watching next to Max from the couch, lets out an amused snort. Leave it to Gareth to make a world out of a few unlucky rolls.

“Don't laugh, this is serious!” By now, Gareth actually heard himself and is fighting to keep a straight face. In his last attempt to keep himself from laughing, he goes back to his theatrics, whining and pouting. “Will, you’ve been doing great today, tell the Fates I’m a nice guy, share your luck with me.”

“You want guidance? Can I guide him for this?”

He’s looking at Eddie now, but two answers come at once, one from the DM, the other one by his side.

“This is not an ability check.”

“Sure, give me a good luck kiss.”

Even if he says it lightly, Will turns to him so fast, a twinge of pain runs up his neck. Silence falls around the table and he can feel everyone’s eyes on them. Gareth looks shocked by his own words as his face fills with red, and Will would find it cute if he wasn’t so sure he looked the same.

“You know what? I'm feeling generous.” Eddie’s stunned expression turns into a gleeful grin. Mischief takes over his eyes, and Will realizes this is the mean DM everyone talks about. The sight quickly finds its way to his top five most scary experiences and, considering their history, that's not a small achievement. “I’ll allow it as a blessing, if you actually kiss Gareth”.

As soon as he says it, hell breaks loose around them. Everyone wants to have a say in this.

Will should’ve expected that. During their first session, he discovered that, with Eddie, role-playing beats every rule in the book. Truthful to his theater kid nature, he’ll allow anything if it makes the game exciting. And exciting it is, if the fluttering of Will’s heart is something to go by.

As everyone laughs and yells and argues around them, he looks at Gareth and finds him already staring.

“You don’t have to”, the older boy says. “Eddie doesn't realize he makes people uncomfortable sometimes, but he won't press if you say no.”

Will thinks about it for a second. He could say no, and no one would give him shit for it, but he needs to know. Even if it’s not the time and everyone’s looking, even if he’s scared to death, he needs to know if he needs to rip these fluttering feelings apart before they grow too big and dangerous.

Is this a rosebush or a baobab?, he wants to ask.

But thoughts need translation sometimes, so he says, “Would it make you uncomfortable?”

“Kissing you?”

As Will nods, he sees Gareth’s eyes falling to his lips and back to his eyes. A small smile is taking over his face, hesitatingly, and Will’s not nervous anymore. He knows that smile, it’s the same one he sees before Gareth hands him a cup of tea and the last of Steve’s cookies, as he asks him about his campaign ideas or listens to his honestly annoying rant about the pros and cons of choosing the Moon Circle as a Druid.

It’s a familiar smile, kind and welcoming.

He’s already getting closer when Gareth finally says, “never”.

At some point, everyone went silent again and now they’re waiting for a show.

“Whenever I look at you, I see the fire of your bloodline, Gareth the Great.” Will cups Gareth's cheek and leans in until their noses are touching. He doesn't make his character’s voice this time. He wants Gareth to know this is all him. “When you speak, I feel the warmth that runs through your veins, and when you stand by my side, I feel invincible. I believe in your power,” his last words are said against Gareth's lips, barely above a whisper for him to breathe in, “give him hell.”

And just like that, he does it. It’s a soft kiss, gentle and sweet, filled with untold feelings, but there’s no doubt to it, Gareth is kissing back.

“I feel very lucky right now, Will the Wise.”

As they pull apart, the world regains its shape and Will can almost hear his friends’ surprise. El is slapping Max’s arm in excitement as they giggle, and Eddie gives a smug smile to Steve. Will would see it if he had half a mind to stop looking at Gareth.

Gareth, who’s smiling and reaching for his dice without taking his eyes away from Will either.

“I cast fifth level fireball.”

Only then, he turns back to the table and rolls both dice, his own and the one given by a kiss.

The rattling against the table seems to go forever, but Will can't tear his eyes from Gareth’s face to see what’s going on. He knows it’s good when the other boy turns to him with the brightest smile he’s ever seen.

“Natural twenty, for a total of twenty-seven with Will's dice”, he announces. Everyone roars again, and the air feels alive with their excitement.

“That’d be a crit hit,” says Eddie with a proud smile, the mean DM facade falling in pieces. “Add six D6 for me.”

That’s so many dices that Gareth has to borrow a few from Will and Dustin to do it in one go.

“Ohgodohgodohgod,” says Gareth as he counts, “that’s— 68 fire damage.”

Shocked voices take over the room and Holly mother of a Demogorgon gets mixed with fuck, fuck, Gareth that’s insane and that must’ve been a really good kiss.

 “Children, children. Be silent for a minute.” Eddie stands up from his place at the head of the table and looks straight at Gareth, putting an immediate stop to the noise.

“I regret to inform you, Gareth the Great,” he says before a long pause that has everyone holding their breaths and at the edge of their seats, “that you’ll have to use that one brain cell of yours and tell me how you want to end this motherfucker.”

A grin spreads across Eddies face as the gleeful screaming comes back.

Gareth stands up and starts acting his character’s moves, one hand extended in front of this body. “You all see sparks surge from my face. They start right under Will’s fingers and travel down to my arm and hand, where a small spark of fire forms. It gets bigger as it travels through the air and you can see it's purple, just as Will's clothes. It fills the far side of the room, engulfing the Lith and turning him into ashes.”

“As the Lith turns into ashes”, Eddie takes over, “you, Gareth, hear his voice in your head. He promises to come back, to end you and your party, to make you regret ever crossing his way. But right now the fight is over, you can heal your companions and take a good night's rest. Is there anything you want to do before we wrap up for today?”

“I'm going to hug Gareth and whisper, ‘you made it’,” says Will.

“Only because of you.”

They're staring at eachother again, and Will realizes that, just for a moment, he feels no fear.

“Okay, love birds,” interrupts Erica in her character’s voice. “Let's heal mister can’t-do-anything-without-fainting and get out of here, I need a drink.”

Everyone laughs at that as Lucas complains. They still have to find the Lich’s phylactery and find out what waits for them in this adventure, but that’s a story for another day.

[christinesficrecs]

Any smitten Stiles fic recs? I just love when Stiles is completely gone on Derek and I’m craving some good ones.

Sure! Here are a few. ❤️

Operation: Chick Flick by Inell | 7.3K

Stiles knows agreeing to be Derek’s fake date for Cora’s wedding is the stupidest thing he’s ever done, but it’s a little difficult to say no to the man he’s been in love with for seven years.

I Just Want You For My Own (More Than You Could Ever Know) by yodasyoyo | 16K

“What is with that sweater, dude?”

Derek ducks his head to look at it, abashed. “Uh- Mrs Hernandez knitted it for me. It’s an early Christmas gift.” He smooths it down self-consciously.

Stiles cocks an eyebrow.

“What? She’s my neighbor and sometimes I-” Derek trails off. Stiles’ other eyebrow rises to join the first, and Derek sighs. “Sometimes I help her carry her groceries."

Of course he does. One day maybe Stiles will stop being in love with Derek Hale, but today is not that day.

Reason For Call by 74days | 58.9K | Explicit

Stiles has been working in his call-centre booth for nearly 5 years when he first hears the voice of the new IT guy. Surely anyone who sounds like that has got to be H.O.T Stiles takes it upon himself to get to know him better. The only problem is, he's got no idea what he looks like...

Stay in Your Lane by mikkimouse | 5.3K

Stiles works at a bowling alley and has a crush on Derek Hale, a frequent customer. He deals with this in the most mature way possible: by giving Derek dumb nicknames for every game he plays.

Pick Me Up by Omni | 4.7K

Growing more and more confident as he grew older, Stiles started the ridiculous pick-up lines and joke-flirting with Derek back when he was still in college. After college, it just got worse. Not that Derek minds. Sometimes Derek will play along, because Stiles is funny, and those bad pun innuendo pick-up lines are ridiculously hilarious, and he likes it when Stiles tosses his head back and laughs like that. He loves it when he’s able to catch Stiles off guard with his own brand of humor, loves the way his eyes light up as he smiles at Derek. Pretty much, he’s just kind of hopelessly gone on Stiles, but doesn’t fully realize it.

Then one day…he does.

Coming Home by sheafrotherdon | 9.9K | Explicit

When Stiles comes home from college for Thanksgiving break, the last thing he expects to develop is a sudden, overwhelming attraction to Derek Hale.

Where to Search for Snow by suburbanmotel | 8.9K | Mature

Stiles and his Gigantic Repressed Feelings accidentally affect the weather. A lot. Like. A lot.

A Blossoming Romance by Trelkez | 7.5K

Stiles will just have to try harder next time. No one can ignore him forever.

You've Got Notes by the_gramophone | 14.8K | Mature

Stiles Stilinski has wanted star basketball player Derek Hale forever, but what are the odds of that ever happening? A love story of letters, prom, and the healing power of milkshakes.

Smooth Like Your Face by Cobrilee | 2.5K

Derek is so used to Stiles hitting on him with horribly cheesy pick-up lines, he doesn't realize that maybe Stiles means them. Luckily, Boyd does.

Worth the Wait by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 13.3K | Explicit

Stiles always had a thing for Derek, but then again, so did everyone else. Stiles just wanted to be seen as different, which was why he waited.

But maybe he waited a little too long.

Binomial Coefficients by DevilDoll | 20.7K

In which brainy freshman Stiles Stilinski wants star quarterback Derek Hale to join the math team, AKA math nerds in love.

Breaking Bad Habits by Inell | 3.7K

Stiles has a bad habit of falling for unattainable higher beings that would never so much as look at a mere mortal like him. The latest focus of his unrequited affection is his personal trainer, Derek Hale, who is a Greek God come to life.

Go For The Gold (And A Few Other Things) by SpiritsFlame | 14.7K | Mature

Stiles came to the Olympics with one goal- get a gold medal. By Opening Ceremonies, he has two goals. Win a gold medal, and sleep with Derek Hale. Unfortunately for him, those two goals are equally difficult.

[ava-core]

when i tell you i’m courier six: may brainrot i am MAY brainrot!! more info on her!! (still not the main post on her…i have an entire google document on her with all her stats, backstory and a journal of her journey as i play the game as her)

in the meantime, here’s an OC chart of her (template provided by @vault81 <3)

yeah, par for the course.

some tidbits on this chart i’d like to explain:

of course i blocked out her real name. call me marjorie, but it adds to her mystique…and the fact that no one in the mojave, too, is none the wiser her real name isn’t May Bells? yeah i’m into that. the only person who has an idea is Boone, and that’s because they’re around each other 24/7—enough for him to notice the dogtag around her own neck that’s visible when she sleeps has strange symbols on it (his 3 INT can’t quite reach the fact that it’s mandarin) and he’s pretty sure they all don’t translate into something as short as May Bells.

may also has this strange flirtation going on with the strong, hot-headed women of the NCR: colonel cassandra moore, whose compliments seem…loaded, and corporal betsy, who never misses the opportunity to flirt unabashedly with may (who can never respond, despite usually being quick to reply with a dry or scathing quip). what can she say? she’s got a type. something about tough-around-the-edges soldiers with baggage to carry…oop.

of course boone doesn’t appreciate that. it’s first recon on first recon beef for this less-than-verbally-charming courier who will pick her nose if she knows there’s a booger in it

on that note: her 3 CHR stat and 28 Speech is so fun for me. i usually play as couriers with silver tongues, and may is, at the end of the day, underneath her combat prowess and big brain…just a nerd. just look at that big, fat 9 INT. she knows her way around terminals, science, how a plasma rifle works and how to jury rig that shit. she’s basically a few training modules away from being a certified trauma surgeon. she literally does math problems in pre-War textbooks to destress. she’s also convincing when she needs to be so long as the conversation involves reason and logic. but when she gets flirted with? nope. this girl will NOT respond with anything else than a silent, burning red face or roll of the eyes, depending on how much she likes you.

this aspect is so funny. really. i’m so used to the smooth talkers that i just up and use the failed speech checks for dialogue because i can see may saying them with her rifle in hand, her trigger finger itchy because where her words fail her bullets don’t. (“i came here…for uh…yeah, fuck it, you’re going to die.”)

her tag skills are medicine, science, and unarmed. this surprises no one.

this girl LOVES her sarcasm. growing up in an environment where you had to be kind, calm, and submissive, the freedom to just be a jack shit asshole with your words was a promising proposition may took without a second thought the moment she was in shady sands.

still, when she doesn’t need to talk, she won’t talk. she prefers the company of books, and later in the story, when she grows closer to boone and the rest, she still retains her fondness for silence—she bonds with others by being silent together.

while she might seem like an average grizzled merc with her mask and the scars and bullets around her body, not to mention her terrifying presence perk, she’s actually quite forgiving. it ties into her natural tendency towards compassion, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it; hell, remember her father, who murdered almost all of his entire family? may remains conflicted about that, and despite his abuse of her and her siblings, there are times where she remembers him fondly and often honors his memory alongside the other deceased members of her family.

it’s her recognition of the complexity of these relationships and how they tie in together that make her more empathetic of the people in the mojave. she knows everyone around her’s got their own burdens; if they’re not doing anything to actively shit on you, why add to that, right?

may spends a lot of her time thinking. she’s always pensive, always wondering, thoughts swirling around in her head, the entire opposite of head empty. may head full. too full. always full.

also, yes, she’s superstitious. somewhat, as i indicate, because she’s not above dismissing some Shi rites she deems irrelevant entirely—but some centered around karma and the value of the soul, she upholds. an example is, again, her effort to respect the dead civilians she encounters in travel. a broc flower here, a silent prayer there. if no repose is to be found in this life, it was the least she could do to at least wish for them to find it in the next one.

MAY BELLS i love you…my nerdy, awkward, sarcastic little courier six…playing fnv as you is the highlight of a very difficult week <//3

also if she was exposed to modern music, she’d probably love my chemical romance, fall out boy, green day and the smashing pumpkins. you can already imagine what kind of person she’d be…that emo-punk eyeliner phase LMFAO

so…one more song for the road, one i know may would have as a favorite.

[redd956]

My favorite worldbuilding moments in media

Spoilers: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Centaurworld, Hollow Knight

As humans in today’s age and world we are constant consumers to media of nearly infinite varieties. I myself take a long time to start new media or dive into new hobbies, it’s just a trait of mine.

When I do I’ll admit I’m hard to please, and will often not finish shows, movies, or books because they didn’t grasp a part of me enough. This does mean though that if it’s something I love I will latch onto for likely the rest of my life (until a bigger corporation or something comes along to ruin it)

Here are 3 of my favorite worldbuilding moments in media

Sweat Bending (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Avatar: The Last Airbender is known as a masterpiece of worldbuilding, and it got that reputation for a reason. There were tons of moments in this show that blew my inner worldbuilder away, but this isn’t a blog piece about Avatar: The Last Airbender, so I needed to pick one moment that stuck out to me.

Which to me the moment I decided upon is when Katara sweatbends while being trapped within a fire nation prison. This was an amazing worldbuilding moment. I watched the character accidentally learn and rediscover this ability, without it ever really feeling cheap to me. It’s also such a cool moment for the waterbenders in the story in general, because it only posed more questions for the future of Katara’s abilities.

Also girl is a badass, who doesn’t love a badass in stories.

Taurnado (Centaurworld)

I watched this early last year during a really tough time in my life. Even though everyone was trashing on the characters and story, I didn’t care at all. This was fun to watch and really made my terrible days brighter. Plus I watched it with my brother who rarely ever watched things with me anymore, and we were both laughing.

However when this scene came on, us two worldbuilding nerds got chills, and the amazing soundtrack to come with it didn’t help. It really gave the show the magic I realized it was going for, and further explored on the idea that everything is a centaur in centaurworld, even their threats. It was a great moment with the characters, showing the dynamic and stakes between the characters.

And every few months I listen to the song once again because they did amazing with that one.

The Infection (Hollow Knight)

I bought Hollow Knight one day on a whim, as I was starving for something challenging yet smooth to play. I settled on it after buying it on for my switch, and upon booting it up would discover that I accidentally began  a journey that would play an important role in my life.

After beating one of the major areas I decided I’d return back to Dirtmouth. Often in video games I refuse to use fast travel frequently, as I love enjoying the atmospheres developed. Upon entering crossroads my perception of the game I already fell in love with completely changed.

The music entered my bones, the change in scenery of a familiar places sent shivers down my spine, and a wave dread for the fictional world washed over me. The stakes were always there, but like every video gamer you never act like they are, this reminded me of them.

It was an amazing worldbuilding moment, and moment in video gaming in general, and I don’t expect to ever forgot it.

[ladyartemesia]

TEASER: Kim Seokjin and the Mean Omega

Pairing: Nerd Alpha Kim Seokjin x Popular Omega Reader

Genre: A/B/O • Enemies to Lovers • (Sorta) College AU • Best Friend's Brother AU (Who is surprised? No one?)

Teaser Word Count: 3.6K

Teaser Warnings: A/B/O sexual dynamics • suggestive content

Rating: Explicit (18+) (Teaser is PG-13)

Summary: In the modern world, alphas are almost unheard of so why even bother learning about them? After all, as a spoiled (but reasonably kind-hearted) omega who is used to getting whatever she wants, you have better things to do. However, when unexpected circumstances throw you in the path of (extremely) nerdy and (probably?) shy Kim Seokjin, you're shocked to discover that he won't be wrapped around your little finger as easily as all the rest. Bringing that infuriating geek to his knees quickly becomes your personal mission in life... But it turns out that Kim Seokjin is not what he appears to be and the mean omega who eats beta boys for breakfast is about to get way more than she bargained for...

Author’s Note: This story would not be here without the love, support and friendship of my incredible support system. You talk with me, you laugh with me, you listen when I’m crying, and you read my chaotic drafts when I am ready to pull my hair out of my head in frustration. I love you all. @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen @lemonjoonah. ALSO thank you to each and every one of you who encouraged me to post this story. This fic is dedicated to all of you as a token of my love and appreciation. Your support keeps me writing. Never doubt that for a second.

“...due to discriminatory anti-alpha policies in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, alphas were nearly eliminated from the general population…”

You heaved a weary sigh and rolled your shoulders—stretching the buttons of your high-end Oxford shirt to their limit. The beta sophomore to your right whined audibly and you smirked.

“...despite efforts to restore the genetic balance of designations, alphas currently comprise less than one percent of the population…”

Your back arched slightly as you crossed your legs, letting the absurdly short hem of your skirt ride up even higher. The poor boy you were tormenting shifted miserably in his seat.

How was he supposed to focus on a Human Biology and Designation Studies lecture when the living breathing embodiment of every sweaty undergrad’s fantasies was twisting her fingers in her hair and wrapping her pretty pink tongue around a strawberry lollipop right there in the middle of class?

“...unlike betas and omegas, alphas possess enhanced strength and the ability to compel other designations with their voice. Unmated alphas especially were often baselessly feared and distrusted...”

You knew exactly how you affected boys like him. You were a shameless tease who relished their attention and the power it brought you. Who needed drugs when driving a man mad with desire was a rush more potent than any high?

“...and that’s all for today so please read pages 450-466 in the text over break and remember to turn in your essay on scent and consent in intimacy—”

That poor sophomore looked like he had finally worked up the courage to speak to you, but you were already out the door and tearing down the hall toward your beautiful (and entirely platonic) counterpart, Kim Taehyung.

“Do you think Professor Moore is unaware that class is over at 3:25 or is he just torturing us for science?”

Taehyung shrugged, falling into step beside you with practiced ease.

“I mean I would torture you for free so it’s hard to say.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at his characteristic dry humor, but the irritation at being held in that sweltering lecture hall for an extra ten minutes had frayed your temper.

“It’s the last class before spring break, I’m sure he was on some sort of twisted power trip.” You dug around in your purse for some chapstick, ignoring Tae’s amused snorting, “Alphas barely exist anymore and none of us are likely to meet one. Why bother learning what they can do?”

Taehyung tilted his head in amusement.

“You might be surprised.”

The final party before the beginning of spring break was always a laid back affair.

Many people had already caught planes to their various destinations, but your flight was scheduled for early tomorrow morning—leaving you with some time to kill.

Taehyung pressed his newest experimental concoction into your hand within minutes of entering the house (a surprisingly neat bachelor pad owned by two seniors, Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi) and then darted back to the kitchen to craft more questionable alcohol potions like a deranged party warlock.

You had just found a comfortable place on the couch and were contemplating whether sampling your best friend’s mad scientist elixir would be worth the probable damage to your body when—

“H-Hello...”

It was that sophomore from your Designations Studies class. What was his name again? Jungwoo? Jinwook?

“Jungkook,” you smiled, delighted to have remembered before it became awkward. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You motioned to the empty cushion next to you and the man in question scrambled over like he’d won the lottery.

“I—I know we don’t know each other well, but I noticed you were absent during Professor Moore’s lecture on intimacy and scent consent so I—” he blushed deeply, “I wrote the essay for you—and I brought a copy on my flash drive if-if you want it.”

Your heart melted immediately.

“Oh my gosh Jungkook, that is so sweet of you!”

Your gaze darted over his muscular form and thick brown curls.

Sweet indeed.

“I don’t want to miss out on the learning though,” you pouted, placing a hand on his tattooed bicep. “Can you explain it to me?”

Jungkook nodded vigorously even as his wide eyes fell to where your fingers were sliding slowly over his chest.

Scent consent was a pretty basic and universally known concept, but you really were touched by the handsome sophomore's consideration.

Why not give him (and yourself) a little reward?

“Um so basically if two people are involved in...intimate activities—”

You leaned forward to nip his ear lightly and he whimpered.

“Like this?” you asked innocently.

“Y-Yes. Like that.” He gulped. “In an intimate situation consent or refusal can be smelled. The scent of refusal or reluctance in intimacy is strong, unmistakable, and has a high chemical potency.”

“Is that so?” you drawled, sliding over onto his lap. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back into his head and you bit back a grin.

He was adorable.

“Uh-huh—it—oh my gawd,” (you were nibbling on his ear again) “it can immediately block sexual arousal and performance in the other partner. Meaning, if consent is not present, then it becomes difficult or—ahh” (his voice began to waver under your continued attention) “—or even impossible to continue with intimate acts.”

Your hand slid up to his cheek, bringing him closer till your lips were almost touching.

“Then what does it mean if I’m still so turned on right now?”

“It means,” Jungkook shuddered—nearly delirious with your scent, “that I really really want you.”

Across the room, Park Jimin chuckled as he watched you seduce his enthusiastic friend.

Jeon Jungkook was such a sweet kid.

Hopefully he wouldn’t get too attached.

“Wow... Some people are genuinely born blessed I suppose.”

Jimin turned to see Jung Hoseok eyeing the dimly lit corner where you and the eager young sophomore were exploring each other.

It was a rather...provocative spectacle. Not quite raunchy (you weren’t truly an exhibitionist)—just insanely sexy.

Jimin’s gaze lingered on the smooth curve of your thigh where Jeon Jungkook was currently holding on for dear life.

Lucky bastard.

“Ah you know how she is,” he sighed. “That boy isn’t going to get any farther than anyone else.”

It was relatively common knowledge that you liked to mess around but rarely—if ever— fully hooked up with anyone.

Jimin asked you about it once during a drunken game of truth or dare and you had just shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of avoiding STDs (which—to be fair—was at least part of your motivation), but the truth was a little more complicated than that.

In terms of experience, you weren’t a virgin, but... you hadn’t actually had sex in years.

You loved the chase, the foreplay, the build-up—the game of cat-and-mouse between two people who were attracted to one another.

But the final consummation was always so…

Wildly unfulfilling.

Every encounter left you frustrated. Empty.

Grumpy—even.

So you stopped bothering with it all together. (That was what sex toys were for after all.)

At the end of the day you were perfectly content being labeled a tease—it meant that people tended to know what they were (or rather weren’t) getting into when they rolled the dice with you.

Besides…it hadn’t even put a dent in your throng of admirers.

You were sunny, spoiled, indulgent, almost universally adored—

And you loved every minute of it.

“You know…” Hoseok took a long sip of his drink. “I always thought she would end up with Taehyung, but it’s been three years.”

Like you, Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat and it was only natural that two beautiful and absurdly privileged people would gravitate to one another. You met at a freshman pledge party and had been an inseparable (and formidable) dynamic duo ever since.

The undisputed king and queen of campus.

Yes—maybe the two of you were a little self-absorbed at times, but it was hardly your fault that people tended to instinctively cater to the force of your combined looks, wealth, and charisma.

And it didn’t hurt that neither of you were ever intentionally cruel or unkind.

Just... habitually thoughtless.

(Though not when it came to each other. If anything your friendship was one area where you were both a little more human.)

Jimin shook his head.

“Nah that’s never gonna happen.” He tapped his nose. “They’re scent-crossed.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

Scent-crossed pairs didn’t smell sexually attractive to each other.

Like. At all.

No matter how physically or visually appealing an individual might be, it would be near impossible to form a sexual or romantic attachment to them if you were scent-crossed. Alphas, betas, and omegas were all subject to their noses first and foremost in the realm of attraction.

You and Taehyung smelled like comfort and home to one another...

But you were more turned on by a crisp cup of apple juice than you were his scent and the feeling was quite mutual.

He might as well have been your actual brother.

“That explains so much.” Hoseok snorted as he watched a drunken Taehyung do a flying leap on top of both you and Jungkook.

“Why is sunlight so offensive?” you croaked, dragging yourself and your luggage toward the boarding ramp next to an equally miserable Taehyung.

“The next time I book a flight before 9 AM, please shoot me,” he grunted.

Your parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a month-long European cruise so your best friend had graciously invited you to spend two glorious weeks of spring vacation at his family estate.

The invitation had actually come as somewhat of a surprise because—for all your closeness—Taehyung was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about his family.

Not that he was deliberately withholding information per se… It was just that he never really brought them up beyond an occasional passing comment.

The one time you did ask him about them directly he sighed and said—

“We’re very close, but… I suppose we’ve just gotten used to being very private.”

There was clearly more to the story, but you were confident that Tae would share it if and when he was ready.

“My parents are in Seoul opening a new branch of the company. They took my little sister with them and my older brother has his own house so it will be just us.” He snuggled deeper into the first class seat directly next to yours. “We’ll hang out by the pool and chill during the day, then hit up some of the new clubs or whatever at night.”

“So… No one from your family will be there?”

Perhaps the invitation was not so surprising after all.

“Nope. Just you and me and thirty acres of ocean front property.”

You grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Whose room is that?”

The two of you were lugging your bags down the main hall of Taehyung’s expansive mansion when a strange hint of...something caught you right by the nose.

Your friend turned to find you frozen and staring curiously at a familiar door near the balcony.

His eyes widened, but you were too preoccupied to notice his momentary concern.

“That’s just Jin’s room.”

A firm hand wrapped around your wrist and dragged you away, but your eyes stayed glued to the source of the mysterious scent until you were around the corner and out of sight.

Your suite for the next two weeks was right across the hall from Taehyung’s. There was a whirlpool, a full bath, a balcony, and an ocean view that would rival the cover spread of any travel magazine.

Tae headed for the shower (to ‘wash the airplane off’) immediately after showing you the room and you were thinking of doing the same except…

Your mind kept going back to that door and the hint of scent you detected.

There was something… different about it.

It was faint—and far from fresh (which made sense considering that one of the few things you did know about Kim Seokjin was that he hadn’t lived in this house for years).

But still…

The need to smell it again pressed insistently at the back of your mind.

Suddenly the sound of Taehyung singing raunchy lyrics in the shower carried over through the walls and you found your feet moving almost of their own accord.

What Tae doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you rationalized, making your way down the hall toward Jin’s door. Besides—it’s not as if I’m going to steal anything…

You just needed to find that scent again.

By the time your fingers closed over the knob every one of your nerves was strangely—acutely—alert but nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting behind the door.

Oh. My. Gosh.

“What a colossal nerd.”

The room was covered floor to ceiling in Nintendo memorabilia.

Bright primary colors assaulted your eyes from all directions in the form of action figures, posters, pillows, and every other conceivable merch variety known to man.

In the center of the suite stood a large king-sized bed covered in a custom black couture toile-style Mario-verse bed set (that looked every bit as expensive as it was geeky) and a mountain of high quality Nintendo character plush toys.

Everything was simultaneously luxe and nostalgic—a rare combination of sophisticated aesthetic balance and childlike indulgence.

And the scent was there.

It was faint and covered under layers of cleaner and air fresheners, but still lingering just below the surface—too weak for you to get a really good whiff, yet potent enough to torment you.

You moved forward unconsciously toward the strongest source of the hypnotic smell—the strangely inviting expanse of Kim Seokjin’s mattress.

Suddenly the urge to climb—no crawl—across the bed itself and roll around in it like a kitten in catnip gripped you out of nowhere.

“What the hell?” you muttered, rubbing absently over the mating gland at the base of your neck.

Something very odd was going on with your body.

Your restless gaze zeroed in on one of the stuffed toys piled atop his pillows. It was a cute little mushroom man your brain recognized as a Mario character named ‘Toad’.

Take it.

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

You need it.

“Am I going insane?” you wondered aloud.

You have to take it.

Muscles in your hand began to twitch involuntarily. You bit your lip.

Bring it back with you.

Several minutes later a freshly washed Taehyung wandered over to your room and found you sitting perfectly still on your bed while staring off into space.

His head tilted in curious concern.

“Everything ok?”

You started a bit at the sound of his voice, but recovered quickly.

“Never better!” you chirped—almost too brightly. “Let’s go get some dinner, I’m starving.”

Then you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall toward the kitchen—shutting the door before he could catch a glimpse of his brother’s stuffed Toad doll stashed underneath your pillow

“...a critical water main rupture in the city’s New Market district early this morning has forced several residents out of their homes as flood water swelled up to nearly two feet. The governor declared a state of emergency and ordered hotels around the city to accommodate the displaced citizens. Crews are still clearing the water and assessing damages. We expect—

“Hey!” you shouted through a mouthful of cereal, after Your best friend switched off the television, “I was watching that!”

“And what you should be doing is getting ready for the pool.” Tae snatched your cereal bowl and dragged you by your shirt collar toward the stairs. “It is the first morning of our vacation. I’m not trying to waste any time. Now go.” He shoved you forward, smacking your ass for good measure.

You swatted back at him half-heartedly as jogged back up to the room where you enjoyed a surprisingly restful sleep last night.

Kim Seokjin’s door glared at you accusingly as you shuffled past—unable to let you forget that you had kidnapped it’s little mushroom man in an unexplained fit of kleptomania, but that was a problem for your future self.

The you of right now was going to zen out in the Kim family's premium glass-enclosed indoor pool (it was still a little chilly for the outdoor pool) with her best friend and bask in the simple joys of good company and no responsibility.

...Or not.

A few minutes later you bounced into the living room wearing a simple black tankini with a cute floral cover only to find Taehyung on the phone with his head in his hands.

“Yes, sir. I understand… I...I know this is my responsibility...”

That didn’t sound good.

After a few more tense moments, Tae hung up and collapsed backward into the couch with a heavy sigh.

“That water main break you heard about on TV this morning was the last straw between the province and its current contractor. They called an emergency meeting for new bids.”

Your heart dropped as you sank down beside him.

“Your dad wants you to go...doesn’t he.”

Taehyung nodded miserably.

“He can’t leave the Seoul opening on such short notice and managing government construction contracts is part of what I’ve been training for. This could be huge for our company.”

“Well...why doesn’t your brother go?”

“Jin is the brains behind most of our patented gaming and tech innovations. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with this sort of thing. Besides,” his lips quirked up in a rueful grin, “my brother doesn’t have the patience to stroke entitled geriatric egos for hours on end—which is likely what I’m going to have to do.”

The two of you headed back to Taehyung’s room where you helped him pack some suits and toiletries for his trip.

Naturally you were disappointed but...this was a great opportunity for your best friend to prove himself in his chosen field and you both knew it. In fact, he was already starting to brighten a bit.

“The meeting is about a hundred miles north of here. My dad’s secretary already handled the flight and hotel room.” His eyes darted around the suite to see if he was forgetting anything.

It was clear he was nervous, though you were sure he didn’t need to be. Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat, but he was also talented and deeply passionate about his family’s company.

Someday this would be the norm. The two of you were stealing time in college, determined to live a little before the expectations of your powerful families transferred fully onto your shoulders.

It was becoming more and more clear, however, that your carefree time was slowly running out.

Mother had already spoken to you about potential marriage alliances and your father expected you to intern with his Vice President this summer just as your elder sister had...

Taehyung’s voice suddenly interrupted your bittersweet introspection and you couldn’t help but smile at how grown-up he looked in his suit and briefcase ensemble.

Everything was going to change, but not quite yet.

“They estimate negotiations should take around a week or so…” He walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. “There should still be some vacation left for us when I get back.”

“Hurry back then,” you mumbled grumpily into his chest and he chuckled.

“I will.”

Taehyung had been gone for less than twenty minutes when you decided that the best use of your time would be to eat more snacks.

The last thing you expected when you skipped merrily into the kitchen was to find it occupied by a shaggy-haired homeless man in glasses.

Your first instinct was to scream which caused the homeless man to drop the apple he was biting right onto the floor where it rolled around for a small eternity before coming to rest at his ankles.

Your second instinct was to grab a butcher’s cleaver from the nearby knife block and wave it chaotically at the intruder while shouting something along the lines of—

“You’ve made a huge mistake! My boyfriend is the biggest, meanest mafia boss in Seoul! Leave now and he might let you live!”

The homeless man continued to stare at you with a mixture of confusion and shock, but made no move to run away in terror like you were hoping.

So you tried again.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! The last man who touched me drinks his steak through a straw now! Do the smart thing and leave before my boyfriend comes down those stairs and it’s too late!”

Infuriatingly, the homeless man was still not fleeing for his life and frankly you were starting to get frustrated. You drew in a deep cleansing breath and were prepared to issue another grandiose threat when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, miss. I... think there’s been some sort of mistake. Who is your boyfriend?”

There was no rational explanation for what came out of your mouth next, but it rolled off your tongue so smoothly and you didn’t even flinch.

“Kim Seokjin.”

For the first time in your entire exchange, the intruder looked truly alarmed.

Now that’s more like it.

“You’ve heard of him I see. He’s a dangerous man and my body belongs to him.” You slammed the cleaver down onto the countertop with a (hopefully) menacing slash. “Kim Seokjin doesn’t like when other men put their hands on what belongs to him.”

There was a long, unpardonably tense moment of silence…Then the stranger slowly reached forward and picked up a mobile phone from the table in front of him.

His eyes remained locked with yours as he pressed a quick series of buttons, brought the phone to his ear, waited a few seconds and said—

“Taehyung… Would you mind telling me why there is a half-naked, knife-wielding omega in our kitchen claiming to be my girlfriend?”

Hello! Please comment on this post if you would like to be added to the taglist!

You guys were all so wonderful, and encouraging, and excited that I literally got this teaser out in three days! If you like what you read so far, please let me know! I cannot put into words how meaningful and valuable feedback is to me. I truly treasure it! It fuels my creativity and keeps me writing. I would love to hear from you!

[mothandpidgeon]

Ok but since you are writing a Regency piece...could you imagine having Din Djarin and Marcus Pike fighting over you? Each of them is so different and you can't help it because you're attracted to both of them because Din is the brooding yet kind introverted man that quotes to you poetry and takes you on long boat rides (with someone else of course because he cares about your image) and you're head over heels in love but then Marcus comes along and he's dashing and sweet and a little introverted but mostly talkative whenever he has to be and although he doesn't read to you poetry, he does gush about how none of the Greek and Roman and Etruscan sculptures and Italian works of art come close to your beauty and he takes you on long walks in gardens and even invites you to go to Versailles one time with him and then the three of you run into each other during one of the balls and the two are begging just for a moment with you and you're dancing with no one else but them during the entire night and when you try to go to the garden to get some fresh air, you're bombarded by the two men and they get into a heated argument to the point where they say that they will duel for you but you stop them both because you don't want either of them to get hurt and then...oh my sweet lord...and then, you take each of their hands and kiss their knuckles and fuck you shouldn't be doing this because what if someone sees and your reputation and no no no...but they both grow even more shy and you smile at them and-

"How about you invite us over to your estate Captain Djarin? I'm sure we can all...come to an agreement. Right?"

And the two are so confused but when they look at each other and return their gaze to you, they finally realize what it is you're talking about and they're both appalled by your offer but their shock slowly subsides because they fucking crave you and they nod and you throw each one of them a wink and-

"I'm looking forward to the invitation, good evening gentlemen."

And AHHHHHHHHHHH I DIE!!!!!!!!

Ok, Maggie, you went SO HARD on this one. Phew. You really know how to torment me!!! You are always welcome in my inbox. Considering the tale you wove, I really hope this lives up to it and you’ll have to forgive me I could go on but I was already approaching 1.5k words!!

Also I hope you don’t mind (and apologies to Regency!Din) but the mention of Versailles just screamed late 18th century (an important distinction in my nerd brain) so…

A/N: 18+! This ribbon bit comes from Barry Lyndon so apologies to the ghost of Stanley Kubrick.

It was a shame that Misters Djarin and Pike detested one another so when they had so many similarities. Both of them were kind and sweet and terribly handsome.

Mr. Pike accompanied you to the opera on more than one occasion. In the privacy of your box, he would whisper sweet words into your ear and nudge the soft skin of your neck with his nose. Mr. Djarin was more of an outdoorsman. He took you riding on his estate. When you were far enough on the grounds, he would help you down from the saddle and recite poetry to you beneath a shady tree.

And yet seeing them side by side now in Mr. Djarin’s parlor where you’d just shared a very awkward tea, tension straining the air between them, they couldn’t be more different. Mr. Djarin, so reserved, dark and modest. Mr. Pike, flirtatious and warm, cheek always dimpled with a smile.

You knew it wasn't going to be easy to break the wall between them but you’d been wise enough to plan for it.

“It seems I cannot force an accord between you but I know how men like their sport. I propose a wager. Nothing like a friendly competition to encourage affection,” you said.

Marcus cocked his eyebrow. He had wanted to win you since he’d met you last summer, pursuing you endlessly and yet this other man still stood in his way.

“I wonder which of you is a better hunter,” you said.

“And how would we prove that?” Mr. Pike asked. Din’s brow creased. He didn’t know how hunting had anything to do with your ludacris proposal, the one that they had both scoffed at at the ball. He wouldn’t have agreed to contemplate the thought if he hadn’t been so afraid of losing you.

You rose from your seat and both pairs of brown eyes watched you intently.

“I have devised a test. I’ve hidden a white ribbon somewhere on my person,” you said, trying to bite back your smile. “The better man finds it first.”

Both men looked at you in a stunned silence. Your heart was racing nervously but you were savoring their expressions. Mr. Djarin collected himself first.

“You’ll forgive me for being unfamiliar with the ways in which women amuse themselves but I hardly find such a suggestion to be entertaining,” Mr. Djarin said, his cheeks turning pink.

He couldn’t pretend that the idea of undressing you didn’t make his heart pound but he hated how easily you would give yourself over to Mr. Pike. He disliked the way Pike flirted with you so openly. Of course, he knew some of it was envy— he had never been a charmer.

“I do not speak in jest, sir,” you told him.

“That is what you want?” Mr. Pike asked, his soft eyes already slipping lower. He was already thinking of places to explore.

You watched Mr. Djarin look away from you when he nodded.

“And the better man, does he win something?” Pike asked, enjoying how flustered the other man had become.

“My highest regard,” you answered coyly.

Marcus chuckled.

“Then the lady should get what she wants, don’t you agree?” he asked Mr. Djarin.

Din cleared his throat.

“Very well,” he said.

Pike came to your side and took your hand to escort you to the couch where you sat between him and Mr. Djarin.

“Perhaps you should take the first turn,” you suggested to Mr. Djarin who was looking at you with a mix of fear and yearning in his eye.

He’d been so careful with you, always so cautious not to overstep or do anything at all that might invite scandal save a few soft kisses. And here you were laying yourself out for him. He swallowed dryly and met your eye with a shrug of surrender.

“Is it in your hair?” he asked, eyes darting up to your coiffure.

You smiled at him, nearly reached out to put your hand on his cheek. That protective nature was what drew you to Mr. Djarin in the first place. You knew what he really wanted, you could see it in his eyes, but he was too polite to take what was being offered. Not without convincing.

“I believe this requires a more thorough search, Djarin,” Pike said from over your shoulder.

He cupped your hands and turned them over as in a playful inspection, then lifted both of your arms. “No. Not there.”

You laughed and the noise made his heart jump. He’d found that he would make himself a fool if it put a smile on your face. Marcus was happy to take the opportunity to move in closer, to claim you with his touch. He brushed your neck so gently, his fingers tracing a ljne from your jaw to your shoulder where the bodice of your dress began. Goose pimples broke out on your skin and Marcus put his lips against your earlobe.

“I wonder,” he mused, leaning your back into his chest.

He hooked a finger under the fabric and followed the line down from your shoulder to the swell of your breast and you gasped. He had so often admired the rise and fall of your chest, Marcus couldn’t help but caress your skin with his thumb. Din felt himself stiffen as he listened to the soft moans Pike was drawing from you as he put a kiss on your skin. Watching your lips part, Din was frozen in place.

Marcus moved his hand down the straight front of your bodice and you felt yourself pulsing beneath your skirts.

“Perhaps under here?” he asked.

You allowed him to work the front of your gown open, the silk parting to reveal the creamy ivory stays below. Din felt twin aches in his chest and his groin as he saw the other man slide the bodice off of your shoulders.

Neither had seen you in such a state of undress before. Marcus took a moment to steady himself, admiring the figure below and sliding his hand across your middle. You were hardly naked, still clad in your stays, shift, and skirts but your underthings made his cock twitch.

“Now you see how the game is played and that Mr. Pike has been so far unsuccessful,” you said to Mr. Djarin, your voice more breathless than before. “Would you care to try, Mr. Djarin?”

You encouraged him by bringing your foot to rest beside his knee, leaning back into Mr. Pike. Din licked his lips, staring at the floral pattern on your delicate shoe for what felt like a century. Finally, he gave in to his longing.

He ran his fingers up your ankle over your silk stocking, revealing the smooth line of your leg. His large hands encircled your calf as he inched your skirt up further. You let out a shaking breath, squeezing your thighs together. You could hear Mr. Pike’s jagged breaths in your ear as he watched with anticipation. He had half a mind to release himself from his breeches to relieve the torment building there.

Din was careful not to reveal any of your skin, stopping just above the spot at your knee where your stockings were tied with thick ribbons.

“These are blue,” he said, running his thumb over the bow.

You were looking down at him flushed and breathing heavy and it took everything in his power to stop from taking you then and there.

You leaned to him, putting your lips against his and letting your mouth fall open to invite him in. You heard him whimper and he clutched onto your leg. Then you turned to Mr. Pike who kissed you hungrily, his wide palm kneading at your breasts.

“I’m quite disappointed in the both of you,” you said once you could speak again. Your whole body was thrumming with arousal.

You raised your skirts up around your hips and felt both pairs of eyes lustily watching. There, tied around the thickest part of your thigh was the white ribbon. But they only noticed the slick shining between your thighs.

“We shall call it a draw. But I’m afraid that means you’ll have to share me, gentlemen,” you said.

And from their twin growls, it was clear that they didn’t mind.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 12

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Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo @khneltea @raeuberprinzessin

Tim had exactly zero idea what was going on.

Marinette had disappeared into the shower so he’d figured that, hey, work was over and he was 90% sure it was the day she usually shaved (something he knew because every time she shaved she excitedly asked him to touch her leg because it was smooth) so he had time to kill…

He walked over to her jewelry box.

He’d already bugged all of the new jewelry he had bought her but her old stuff was perfectly intact and he kind of wanted more insurance. Sure, they lived together now so it was unlikely she would have much reason to leave without him, but he was known for his millions of plans and contingencies and he wasn’t about to mess up when it was someone he cared about.

So, he went to work on the first necklace he grabbed. It had a tiny cat with green emeralds for eyes.

He looked at the tiny black pupils that the cat had. He pulled a tiny pick out of his pocket and carefully started carving a circle in it for the bug.

And then a bug-shaped god came flying out of the door for something.

There were a few beats as Tim and Tikki stared at each other.

Tikki broke it with a loud groan.

He watched her float past him for the towel hung on Marinette’s bedpost and then go back inside.

Shit.

He darted towards the bathroom, only to pause at the door. He really didn’t want to burst in while Marinette was probably naked, that was a huge breach of privacy, but he also didn’t want Tikki to tell him about all the bugs he was planting! Shit! He bit his lip, considering.

“Here’s your towel, Marinette,” Tikki said with a sharp edge to her tone.

“... are you mad?”

“Not at you. Where are the cookies you baked last night?”

“Uh, the fridge --?”

“Thank you.”

Why hadn’t she told her? Tim wasn’t complaining, of course, but he was a little confused. She was clearly mad about it and he doubted that Marinette had made some rule that said ‘you can’t tell me about people bugging me’ because that was oddly specific and not a very good idea… so… what?

He didn’t know. He was just going to thank the god of luck -- he was pretty sure that was Tikki -- and continue what he was doing.

~

Marinette didn’t have to struggle to keep everyone inside the first night. She liked that. More time to plan.

But how did she get herself let out, you may ask?

Remember how Tim had said that all-hands-on-deck situations are the only exceptions to the Stay Inside While Injured Rule? Well, guess what had happened.

Arkham had had a huge breakout and Marinette wasn’t going to complain… even if her kwami might be a little disappointed in how happy she was about it.

She was even happier when she’d found out that one of the people that had broken out was Scarecrow. She’d been meaning to tell him about her guesses about his brownie recipe for a while and she hadn’t really had a chance to do it when she was talking to him through a phone with a thick glass between them.

Batman -- Bruce? -- didn’t need to know that they’d broken into a bakery for the night to test out their theories before she had taken him back to Arkham.

He’d thank them when he got the brownies (the missing ingredient was Mexican cinnamon!). Or, at least, she hoped he would.

~

Tim had to say… Marinette's plan to get everyone in her house was working.

He could warn his siblings but, honestly, he found it kind of funny.

He was surprised to see Jason show up first. He raised his eyebrows at his brother. “Didn’t know you were in town, Flamebird.”

Jason did an exaggerated eye roll that Tim swore he could see despite the domino. “Marinette said she had something she wanted to show me.”

And she did. She walked over and dropped the Harry Potter books onto the window ledge beside him. “This is terrible and I hate you for making me read them.”

“It gets better later on --.”

“I read two books. That’s six hundred pages. If you can’t get your shit together in six hundred fucking pages then you don’t deserve my time.”

He scoffed. “They’re not that bad.”

“Oh yeah? Read it. It’s been years for you, right? Get to book three and tell me it’s good.”

Jason scowled and grabbed the books, taking a seat in the armchair.

Tim grinned and rested an arm around his girlfriend. “You don’t actually hate Harry Potter, do you?”

“Only the book version.”

He frowned. “I think we need to break up.”

“Nope. Not allowed to break up with me.”

“Oh, well, if I’m not allowed then I guess I won’t,” he said, leaning down to press a tiny kiss to her lips.

There was a groan from the window and they both rolled their eyes, turning to look at Damian.

“Why must you sully my good mood so early on with your disgusting displays of affection?”

“It’s our apartment, you just so happen to be here,” said Tim, glaring at his brother. “We can do what we want.”

Marinette, bravely, stepped between the two of them with a bright smile. “Now, boys, it’s not the time.”

“It is not the time for your libido, and yet...” argued Damian.

“Please, that isn’t even close to libi --,” Tim started, only to get elbowed in the stomach.

She gave him a look that told him to let her handle it and, while he didn’t think that was a good idea, he held up his hands in surrender.

“Robin, it’s unbecoming of you to argue with everyone you meet,” she chided lightly.

… did she speak Damian or something? Because Damian actually looked a little reprimanded at that and Tim needed to learn her ways.

Then, she leaned down with a grin. He could see her hands start to rest on her knees but she thought better of it at the last second. “I got some new stuff from the pet store and I wanted to know if you wanted to help test them out on Vanelope.”

Damian narrowed his eyes slightly. “What kinds of new things?”

“A bunch of cat toys.”

“... I suppose I can test them out for you.”

“I mean, I said you could help --,” she started, but Damian was already heading towards Vanelope without her.

Tim looked over at his girlfriend. She didn’t seem all that put out by this.

“You really had something planned out for everyone?”

She smirked and took a seat on the windowsill. “Yep. It should take Flamebird about two days to finish the first two books -- assuming he can even get through them that quickly -- and Robin is sure to be very thorough in his testing of all the cat toys.”

“Oh? And what’s your plan for everyone else?”

She shrugged just slightly. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

When Dick appeared she set him up with Beat Saber, saying that she was curious about why the VR glasses gave her a headache and wanted to see if he had the same problem. Tim knew the problem was that they were made for men and therefore sometimes had negative side effects for women, but he bit his lip before he could offer to get a set custom-made for her in favor of watching Dick select the poppiest pop song in existence and instantly get addicted to the game.

Tim raised his eyebrows slightly when Steph appeared, textbook in hand.

“How did you know everyone would show up?” He asked once Marinette had set her up with a particularly long and difficult worksheet to make sure she got the lesson.

“Well, Spoiler shows up every Saturday night for tutoring, Robin comes by every other day or more and he didn’t stop by last night, Nightwing pops by most weekends, and I called Flamebird over myself… speaking of which…” She pulled out her phone and tapped a few buttons. “Right, Signal said he’ll be here in ten minutes seven minutes ago… so, he’s almost here.”

Tim grinned. “You forgot Cass.”

“She only ever really shows up to get away from all of you guys so, with everyone here, she’d have no reason to come over.” Her face split into a sheepish grin. “Also, she’d see through me pretty quickly.”

“Don’t you want B to have no help?”

She shrugged. “It should be a light night since almost everyone important is in Arkham right now but that doesn’t mean that the two of them can deal with all of Gotham’s petty crime on their own. I give them until three or four before they crack.”

“... you might be a little scary.”

“You don’t last long as a vigilante if you’re not at least a little smart,” she chirped. “I just choose to turn my brain off most of the time.”

He smiled. “Oh? And the exception is what? Making you stay inside?”

She waved him off. “Kind of. It’s more that I only put effort into making sure I’ll never be bored. What’s the point of thinking about anything else? All that does is make you sad.”

Well that didn’t sound healthy, now did it? Tim was pretty sure that was just repression but, honestly, he had no clue. His family famously did not use therapists.

Before he could figure out how to address that there was a knock on the door.

Marinette grinned and opened it to reveal Duke, who was holding a computer.

Duke looked around the apartment, raising his eyebrows at all the people there. “Uh… should I ask?”

“I’m spiting Bruce.”

“Wild. Whatever. Ready for GBBS?”

“Sure. Tim, you gonna watch it with us?”

He hesitated. Steph had been sending him pleading looks since she had gotten her worksheet and he felt kind of bad for her… but then Duke and Marinette sat on the couch and she rested her head on his shoulder lazily to get a better view of the computer and Tim figured that Steph was smart enough to do the worksheet on her own if she really tried.

He took a seat beside her and smiled a little when she switched to lean against him instead.

“So, who’s your favorite person for the season?” He asked.

She thought for a minute before shrugging. “The guy that always wins but keeps being anxious about his bakes. Forgot his name, though.”

“Rahul?!” said Duke.

“Sure.”

Duke frowned. “I’m not sure whether to be happy you like at least one contestant, be proud it’s Rahul, or be annoyed you didn’t remember his name.”

“Character development takes time,” said Tim wisely.

Marinette scoffed a little. “Just put on the damn show. I’m tired of listening to you assholes talk.”

Duke grinned. “Fine. Fine.”

Time passed as the three of them watched the show.

Other family members slowly made their way over one by one. Damian brought the cat with him. Jason came over to give his brain a break after all the reading he had done (and then, when Marinette pointed out that you never take breaks while reading good books, had gone straight back to Harry Potter). Steph decided she didn’t want to pass her class and came to lay across the top of the couch. Dick eventually got tired and rested his body after the intense game that is Beat Saber.

… B released her at almost exactly three thirty. They ignored their comms in favor of continuing to watch the season finale.

~

Marinette bit her lip anxiously as she preemptively turned off the notifications on her phone. Tim did the same.

They typed up matching tweets about how they were moving in with their partners, tagged each other...

Their fingers hovered over the tweet buttons.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m sure one of my siblings will do something stupid in a few days and the media will leave us alone,” said Tim.

She smiled awkwardly. “That isn’t what I’m worried about.”

He frowned just a little and slipped his arm around her. “Well, can I help with whatever it is?”

She hesitated. It would be better to warn him, she supposed. “Not really. You’re going to get the ‘shovel talk’ --.”

“My dad is Batman, Bean, I’ll live.”

“-- by the person who currently controls the embodiment of chaos and destruction.”

His face paled a little (which is dangerous, considering he was already pale enough). “Does Chat Noir not know we’re dating yet?”

“Nope.”

“... so he’s going to find out through the media?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.”

She nodded her agreement, curling into his side and glaring at the phone.

Adrien was going to be pissed. Especially since he was going to learn through the media. Sure, that was the intention, she was hoping that Tim would be left more or less alone because her friend would be too busy being hurt about not being told to focus on his anger at her boyfriend… but, yikes, she didn’t really want to deal with that just yet.

Also, she thought with a wince, Adrien was going to be even angrier when he figured out that she hadn’t exactly given up, as he called it, ‘stalking’ the people she was interested in. Marinette was pretty sure that Tim already knew about some of it but she wasn’t completely sure and, just in case, she wanted to keep it a secret for a while… a few years, at least, and she wanted to be the one to tell him because she was sure that Adrien would be a lot harsher about it than she would. He already called it ‘stalking’ when it was clearly different, she didn’t want to know what he would say if she let him talk about it in more depth.

Unfortunately, though, Adrien wasn’t stupid. He’d eventually catch on. The longer they dated without him knowing the guiltier he would assume she was.

She sighed and took his face in her hands. “I’m leaving it up to you. I’m not sure. I’m leaning towards being public but...”

He bit his lip as he considered it. She fought the urge to stretch his face until he let go.

He smiled hesitantly. “Well, I’ve lived long enough, I think.”

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll summon a lucky charm for you,” she half-joked.

He gave a puff of laughter that wasn’t quite real and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks, Bean, but I doubt that’ll be necessary. This is Gotham, no one dies here.”

“We don’t know how long that’ll take, though,” she said with a pout. “I’d prefer to have you back as soon as possible.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’ll always have my siblings.”

“But I want you,” she huffed. “You’re my favorite.”

She felt his cheeks warm beneath her hands.

“I’m your second favorite,” he reminded her. “Cass.”

She snickered. “True. You’re my favorite until Cass accepts my proposal.”

“Hm. I’ll have to enforce the bro code to make sure that never happens.”

“Oh no! I guess I’ll be stuck with you forever, then. What a shame!”

He smiled brightly. Sometimes she lamented the fact that he didn’t give a lot of genuine smiles. The grins and smirks were nice, of course, but she liked to watch the way he would duck his head slightly to try and cover his face with his bangs. Still, in the privacy of her own head, she had to admit that the fact she could get such a smile out of him when few others could made her heart rate spike. He smiled for her. Who wouldn’t be flattered by that?

She pulled the smile that she loved so much down for a kiss.

~

The first time they stepped out the door as an official couple they were hounded by reporters.

Tim wanted to ask how they knew where they lived. He settled for asking them to blur the area around them.

It was more than a little annoying to be harassed on your way to the grocery store. They had just wanted eggs, milk (Marinette kept leaving it out for some strange reason), some cat food, and enough miscellaneous snacks to keep Cass occupied. They did not want cameras shoved in their faces.

But years of being public figures had trained them to keep pleasant smiles on their faces and to answer questions with as little information as possible.

Finally, though, they made it inside and a manager kicked out the reporters.

Marinette let her shoulders slump a little beneath his arm and Tim flexed the muscles in his face before it could get stuck in that awkward half-smile forever.

He squeezed her a little. “You alright?”

She shrugged as much as she could without displacing his arm. “Yeah. Just… hate reporters.”

He nodded his understanding. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Want to buy some Oreos while we’re here?”

Her face lit up. “Can we?”

“I’m rich. Of course we can.”

And, so, they did. He made a mental note to start buying oreos in bulk. All the flavors, just in case she ever got sick of the normal version.

They glanced out the door and, though they couldn’t see the paparazzi waiting just outside, they were sure that they would be back soon. They ducked through back alleys to try and get away.

Only to stop in the middle of a dark alley at the high-pitched cry of: “Give me your money or else!”

Tim sighed and set down the cat food to hand over everything in his pockets. A glance back at Marinette confirmed she was doing the same --.

And then he stopped short. He turned more fully to look at their mugger and then started to laugh.

“I’ll… I’ll kill you!” Said the mugger, who was just a kid. They might not have even hit puberty yet.

“With a pocketknife?” Tim said.

Marinette turned around as well at that and a grin spread across her face. “Oh my gods, that’s so lame.”

“It’s Gotham, you gotta do better than that,” said Tim. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a butterfly knife. He handed it over. “Here, have this, at least. Christ, that’s terrible.”

The kid didn’t seem to know what to do about the fact that his would-be victims were laughing at her and apparently helping her mug people.

Marinette handed over everything except for the necklace Tim had given her. “Here, kid. And get a mask or something to hide your face, it’s not nearly dark enough in here for you to just go with a hood.”

“Oh, and here’s my address,” added Tim. He typed it into his phone -- damn, he should have brought more than a pager -- and then handed it over. “We always have a lot of extra food, so if you ever need it just knock on the window.”

“... thanks?” said their now adoptive kid (they didn’t make the rules, this kid was theirs now).

“Yeah, yeah, no problem. Can we go now? One of his siblings is coming over soon and he will start our show without us.”

“Uh… sure?”

~

Marinette sat on the kitchen island, squinting at the cast on her arm. Was it worth taking off for the sake of doing work? Maybe --.

Tim’s voice crackled through her ear and she perked up a little at the sound, smiling. He was talking, greeting guests it seemed. Right. He had a meeting today, Janet had mentioned it earlier that morning.

Marinette sighed a little at the reminder that, while she might not care about her broken arm, her boyfriend did. Yeah. Tim would probably be stressed if she took off her cast before the doctor said it was okay. She settled to lay back on the counter, head resting on her good arm, and stare at the ceiling as she listened to his voice...

Only to dart up when she felt a tap on her arm.

She looked over, eyes blown wide, and only relaxed slightly when she realized she recognized the person.

Adrien stood over her, arms crossed over his chest despite the glasses/miraculous he had hooked to the collar of his shirt, but he apparently wasn’t angry enough to not accept the usual kisses on both cheeks that Parisians did as greeting.

He said something that she couldn’t really understand with the part of her brain still concentrated on Tim explaining some sort of chart.

She sighed and reached a hand to her ear to turn off the bug. “Hey, can you repeat that?”

He didn’t. Instead he squinted at her ear suspiciously. “Does your ear hurt?”

“... no?” She said slowly, a little confused.

“Whatcha listening to?”

She paled. Shit. He was going to be pissed (or, at least, more pissed than he already was) if he found out that her supposed ‘stalking’ was getting worse. She needed an excuse.

“Uh, that one rapper, uh --.”

“BS. You don’t listen to rappers.”

He held a hand out and, reluctantly, she handed it over to him. She might as well get her murder over with.

He set it in his ear and, after a few attempts, turned it on. His face soured even more, somehow.

“This better not be who I think it is.”

She gave a tentative half-smile.

That was all the answer he needed. He grabbed her by the back of her shirt and started dragging her through the streets.

No one helped. Not that she expected them to, it was Gotham, but it was still a little hurtful.

Adrien stopped suddenly after a few minutes of walking.

“... wait… where’s his office?”

[harringrooves]

Inspired by the #cherrylanechallenge day 1 prompt knife but this is not spooky at all so technically this is just a random little ficlet! AO3

The chair outside the principal's office is already taken when Billy gets there. He lets his eyes follow the trail from the clean, white sneakers up the impossibly long stretch of denim clad leg and even further upwards over the two toned striped polo shirt to the moles peeking out from just under the collar.

Steve Harrington glances up at him, then grimaces. Sighs.

"Jesus Christ," Harrington mutters.

"What are you doing here?" Billy grunts. There's no where left to sit, so he flung his jacket onto the linoleum and drops down onto it, back resting against the wall directly opposite Harrington.

Despite the distance of the entire width of the hallway between them, when Billy stretches his legs out the scuffed points of his boots almost touch the edge of Harrington's sneakers.

"Waiting for Mrs Reyes."

"Yeah, no shit."

That earns him a glare from Harrington. Billy's stomach turns a little at the disdain in Harrington's dark eyes, but it's the curiosity shining through that makes him squirm. Like an ant under a magnifying glass.

"Why're you here?"

Billy rolls his eyes, letting the familiar motion draw out the equally familiar sneer. "Same as you, dumbass."

Harrington huffs and turns away again as they both fall silent, glancing at the door every so often as the minutes tick by. It's not at all a comfortable silence. Harrington's not looking at Billy so Billy shouldn't be looking at him. But the walls are blank and the only other remotely interesting thing is the name plaque on the principal's door.

So Billy traces the letters dutifully, keeps going even when he gets nearer to the end of Reyes and stripes creep into the very edge of his vision. Even when he hears Harrington shift in the chair, moving his legs under him onto the seat then over the arms than back down to the floor. Even when Harrington asks, "You go crazy on some kid again?"

Billy goes round and round the shape of the capital R. "No. The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Harrington laughs. It's loud and braying, and not what Billy would've guessed King Steve's laugh would sound like. He imagined something smooth and dark, something that would exude effortless charm with an undertone of something mysteriously rich and out of reach.

It just sounds like a teenage guy laughing, if a teenage guy was also part donkey. Billy would find it funny, if Harrington wasn't laughing at him. "What?" he repeats harshly.

Harrington eventually quiets. "What do I mean? The night at the Byer's, you went like, fully psycho. Your eyes were fucking dead. Did you get like that again, is that why you're here?"

Finally, Billy tears his eyes away from the plaque and meets Harrington's head on. "No," Billy says firmly. "I didn't fucking- no."

Harrington shrugs. "Whatever. Wouldn't surprise me if you did, sooner or later."

That stings. In California he was good at skating and surfing and babysitting and he was top of his class in English and History. Even after she left everyone knew him as Rosaline's boy (never Neil's), with the blonde hair and the yellow surfboard and the white smile that was a little too charming for his own good. Here in Hawkins, he was the Hargrove kid, the one who fucked and ditched, the one who fought and drank.

Maybe Billy's fine with everyone else thinking that about him, but not Harrington. Billy won't let himself think about why, but he wants Harrington see him. To look at him and think he's better than that night.

"I got kicked out of shop class," Billy bites out quietly. Harrington blinks at him.

"You got in a fight in shop-"

"I didn't get in a fight, for fuck's sake!"

Harrington holds his hands up in mock placation, bobbing his head mockingly. "Alright, alright." He stretches his leg out and lazily nudges at Billy's foot. "What'd you do then?"

"Made a knife," Billy mumbles, eyes back on the plaque.

Harrington laughs again. "You what?"

"I made a-"

"A knife, yeah." Harrington cocks his head like a little dog, some of his fringe flopping into his eye. "You know that just makes you sound even crazier, right?"

Billy just shrugs and lets his head fall back against the wall. "Wasn't for me, it was s'posed to be a gift. For- for Max." Harrington freezes.

"You were gonna make Max a knife as a gift?" It sounds like Harrington's struggling with every implication of that sentence. That Billy would gift Max something. That a knife was an appropriate gift. That Billy would care enough about anything to create something hand made.

"Yeah." He can't help but let a little bit of defensiveness slip into his tone. Billy kicks Harrington's foot away, probably a bit harder than necessary. "It was a replica of that one her character has in that stupid game her nerd friends play. Demons in Dungeons, or whatever." Dungeons and Dragons. Billy's not that stupid, but he's also not that shameless to admit to knowing what it's called. "It was a full scaled up one, even got the pattern on the handle half done."

"That's- cool," Harrington says hesitantly. "Didn't know you cared, Hargrove."

"Shitbird's birthday soon. Thought she'd like it." Billy glances over to Harrington, who's watching him with narrowed eyes. Billy coughs, shifting his shoulders a little to roll off the weight of the scrutiny. "Doesn't matter, that fucker Morrison confiscated it anyway."

Silence falls again, still just as awkward as last time but lacking a large amount of the hostility. Harrington's still watching him. The plaque's lost it's draw and Billy resorts to tracing the seams of his jeans with a fingernail.

"I'm failing English," Harrington offers abruptly. Billy's head snaps up, but for the first time Harrington's looking away as he speaks. "That's why I'm here. They're not sure if I'm gonna graduate."

"Sucks," Billy says roughly. Harrington nods slowly.

"Yeah."

Billy swallows, fingers clenching into fists atop his thighs. "I could, uh, give you my notes."

"Why would I need your notes?"

"'Cause you're failing English." Billy doesn't mean to say it like Harrington's an idiot, but those big brown eyes are wide and confused, like he's never thought about actually asking for help. "And 'cause I'm acing it."

Harrington's nose wrinkles in obvious disbelief, but he doesn't challenge it. He just sighs and lets his head loll to the side, propped up by his fist. "Yeah. Whatever. I'll do anything, at this point."

Billy nods silently. Harrington opens his mouth again, but he's interrupted by the click of the office door finally opening. Mrs Reyes pokes her head out.

"Steve," she greets him warmly. Her eyes slide over to Billy on the floor and her lips thin ever so slightly. "William."

"Hi," Billy says as obnoxiously peppy as he can manage.

"I'll see to you in a minute, after I've spoken with Steve." And then Harrington steps through into the office and the door swings shut once again.

Billy could get up and sit in the now vacant chair, but he stays right where he is until it's his turn to be called in. Harrington looks at him as he passes him in the doorway, but it's obvious that he's a million miles away, frowning at Billy but his mind no doubt occupied by something else.

Mrs Reyes doesn't ask what happened, just gives him a Friday detention and a lecture on how badly his behaviour is going to affect his record and how that's such a shame given his academic achievements. Billy lets it wash over him, not bothering to really pay attention. He's heard it all before.

When school lets out and Billy makes his way out the Camaro, he almost trips over his feet at the sight of Steve Harrington leaning against his car, twirling a knife in his long fingers.

"Here," Harrington says as soon as Billy gets close enough, holding the knife out to him blade first. Billy takes it gingerly and slips it into his jacket pocket.

"How'd you get it back?"

Harrington's chest puffs up in some god awful display of smugness as he smirks at Billy. "Morrison leaves his office unlocked during lunch. Everyone knows, it's like the number one place to make out. I was in an out, the couple in there didn't even notice me."

"That's disgusting. But, thanks, I guess-"

"Don't." Harrington holds up a hand, wincing a little. "I didn't do it for you, I think Max will really like the gift so if anything, I did it for her. And consider this payment for the notes."

"Payment?" Billy's brow furrows. "I didn't ask you to pay me." But now that Harrington's mentioned it, he definitely should have. Harrington's rich, everyone knows that. Billy could've got an easy $100 or some of the good weed Tommy's always talking about Harrington having.

"And now you don't have to," Harrington says smugly. "I give you the knife, you give me the notes. I don't want you asking me a month down the track to give you like $80 or a bag of weed or whatever in return. So there's the knife, aaaaand we're even."

Billy glowers as Harrington grins smarmily at him. "Fine. We're even. Now fuck off, some of us got places to be."

Harrington dutifully pushes off the Camaro, walking backwards towards his own car a few rows over. "Cool. Give me the notes whenever this week."

Billy doesn't say bye, just gets in his car and drives off, studiously not watching the fading image of Steve Harrington in his rear view mirror.

...

Max loves the knife. She doesn't hug him, but she nudges his shoulder with hers and declares that she's going to tie it to her belt and carry it with her at all times from now on. Neil goes purple trying to hold back his commentary on just how ladylike and appropriate for a young woman that is. Billy gets a cuff to the back of the head later, but it's worth it.

Harrington does get to graduate. He leans over from his seat beside Billy's (alphabetical order) during the opening speech of the graduation ceremony and whispers closer than necessary into Billy's ear, "Thanks, man." He doesn't so much as glance at Billy for the rest of the three hour ceremony, or during the party later that night that goes until daybreak the next morning, but it's worth it.

Billy bides his time. He can handle one more summer if it means getting enough cash to be independent when he leaves for college in a few months. Neil sucks as much as always, and driving Max everywhere cuts into the hours he's able to put in at the pool, but when she drags him to the new mall after his shift and right into the blissfully cool ice cream shop, Steve Harrington's eyes catch tellingly on the bare skin between the bottom of Billy's crop top and his tiny, red shorts and it's so, so fucking worth it.

[casuallyimagining]

A Normal Wednesday

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Drunk Jungkook confesses something that Sober Jungkook has to reckon with.

Part of the Long Term Couples series.  Read more here.

Jungkook was drunk.

Not too drunk. He wasn’t swaying or slurring his words or anything like that. But when he spoke, he was just a little too loud, a little too honest, and a lot too talkative. Somehow, he had convinced you to take him back to your apartment rather than the shared dorm where the rest of the guys could take care of him. Normally, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Jungkook stayed over often enough that he had a change of clothes in a backpack stuffed away in your closet, and you never minded having him around.

The problem was more that it was three in the morning, and you had a meeting with upper management--his upper management--at ten. And as much as Bang PD and Manager Sejin loved Jungkook and the boys, you weren’t sure you wanted to test how deeply that love ran.

“Please, Jungkook,” you begged, a soft fourth attempt to get him to quiet down. “I know you have off tomorrow, but I don’t.”

Reasoning with a drunk. The first sign of your apparent insanity.

Jungkook giggled at you, his bunny teeth peeking out from between his slightly parted lips. His head was resting heavily against your shoulder as the two of you lounged on your couch. You had given up on trying to coax him to bed an hour ago, choosing instead to attempt to placate him with a movie. If I can sleep through his snoring, I can sleep through a movie, you had told yourself.

Had it just been the movie drawing your attention, you may have succeeded.

Shortly after Jungkook legally was able to drink, you learned that he was a needy drunk. He didn’t just want your attention, he craved it, and he was willing to go to increasingly annoying lengths to get what he needed. Which is partially how you found yourself with an arm slung around his shoulders as he absent-mindedly played with your hand and told you about his day. It was all horribly domestic, and if it wasn’t 3:05 on a Wednesday morning, you would probably even think it was cute.

“Jin-hyung is surprisingly good at table hockey,” Jungkook said earnestly, tracing the heart line on your palm. “Even after I accidentally hit him with the puck.”

“I’m glad you had fun.” You stifled a yawn and rested your head against his own. “Jin takes those games far too seriously.”

You felt him nod against you. “It was fun. I wish you could have seen how bad Yoongi-hyung is at the games. He’s like… really bad.”

You hummed, attempting to close your eyes. It seemed that, now that he was done telling you about filming that afternoon, Jungkook was starting to calm down. You could feel your eyes start to droop closed, and you prayed that whatever higher power would take pity on you that sleep would come quickly.

A few moments of silence passed between you, the tv still playing the movie Jungkook had started and promptly forgot about. For a moment, you thought maybe he had turned his attention back to it--it was his favorite, after all--but when you ventured a peek at him, his gaze was in his lap. He had stopped playing with your fingers, his own tattooed hand now solidly engulfing yours. You closed your eyes again, snuggling in. If he was going to trap you on the couch, the least you could do was get comfortable.

Hopefully, he would sleep.

Unfortunately, that was wishful thinking, as not even a second later, Jungkook was whispering your name. You hummed in response, not even bothering to open your eyes.

“I’m really drunk,” he confessed.

“I know. Go to sleep.”

He started to play with your fingers again, but now, you could feel the nervous energy practically rolling off him. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but you’re my best friend-”

If you could bring yourself to open your eyes, you would have rolled them. “I know, Koo-”

“But you’re more than that, too.”

“What?”

“I just mean that...” You felt him shift, and he mumbled a soft ‘I’m way too drunk for this,’ before continuing. “I just mean that… I dunno. I feel like there’s something more here. Best friends don’t do this.”

You opened your eyes just enough to see that he was gesturing to the space--or rather, the lack of space--between you. “Sure they do.”

“Then why do I get butterflies every time you walk into a room?”

Oh.

Shit.

“You’re drunk.”

He giggled at that, and he adjusted himself so that he could look at you while still laying against your side. You could feel your heart racing, and you hoped that Jungkook couldn’t feel it, too. Drunk or not, he would almost certainly tease you mercilessly about it.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t mind. We can still be friends.” Jungkook nodded, and you couldn’t tell if he was trying harder to convince you or himself that his words were true. He pulled himself closer to you, then, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “Promise me we can still be friends?”

You were speechless, but you held out your pinky to him. His longer one wrapped around it, and you could feel him smile against your skin as he shook your hands up and down. When he was satisfied with your pinky promise, he let you go, choosing instead to wrap his arm around your middle.

“You should get some sleep.” Finally, you could hear a hint of exhaustion in his voice. “You have a meeting in the morning.”

You had to admit: sleeping on the couch wasn’t your brightest idea. Your neck was sore, and you were pretty sure that the pain in your lower back would be there until you died. It didn’t help that extricating yourself from Jungkook’s grasp was almost more difficult than getting him to fall asleep.

He had woken up briefly when you tried to slide out of his iron-tight grasp, but thankfully, you were able to lull him back to sleep by playing with his hair. After that, it had been smooth sailing, and you were actually able to stop for coffee before your meeting.

Truthfully, you weren’t sure what you would be returning to. You had left a Post-It on his phone offering to let him ride out his hangover in your apartment since it would be quiet. But when you hadn’t heard from him into the afternoon, you wondered if he had just gone back to the dorm.

You hoped he wasn’t too embarrassed. Publicly, he oozed confidence. But privately, when Jungkook got overwhelmed, he tended to shut down, especially if he was feeling particularly unsure of himself.

As you drove home, you thought about what he had said the previous night. He was right, of course. The two of you never acted in a way that said anything more than ‘best friends,’ but it was the feelings behind the actions that mattered. And at some point, though you weren’t exactly sure when, the Jungkook-sized place in your heart had shifted ever so slightly.

You weren’t stupid. The man would make a great partner. He was handsome, sure, but more than that, he was kind, and he was loving, and he put the people he loved ahead of anything else. He cared purely,and unceasingly with every fibre of his being. When he hung around other people, you tried to pass off the pit in your stomach as jealousy that he was making new friends, but maybe there was something more to it.

When you opened your door, his boots were still where you had placed them neatly the night before. You weren’t sure if that made you more relieved or stressed. You kicked your shoes off and hung your keys and your bag on the hook in the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible just in case Jungkook was trying to sleep.

He wasn’t--or, if he was, he was failing. You found him in your living room curled up into the corner of your couch, a blanket draped over him. He was watching the movie from last night--Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind--and he was clutching one of the pillows from your bed. He must’ve grabbed it sometime after you left. Your heart fluttered at the sight.

You decided you were glad he was still there.

“How’s Clementine?” you questioned, leaning against the back of the couch directly behind Jungkook.

He hummed. “She’s in love. For now.”

On a normal day, he would have tugged you down beside him to finish watching the movie, or he would have paused it and followed you into the kitchen to grab a snack. But today, he sat still, his fingers twisting and untwisting the blanket, his eyes trained on the television. You sighed softly and ruffled his hair before making your way into the kitchen.

It wasn’t that you were disappointed. Really, you weren’t sure what you were expecting. But seeing him treat you differently stung a bit. You liked to think that your friendship with Jungkook was unshakeable--god knows you’d been through so much in six years. You were there to cheer him on at his high school graduation, for the highest of highs and the lowest of lows in his career, to help him make sense of the group almost disbanding. He hadn’t changed then, so it was hard to see him change now.

But he was still there, in your apartment. That wasn’t nothing.

So you grabbed a bottle of water and trudged back into the living room, just in time to see Joel and Clementine sitting on the steps on the beach in Montauk.

“Never liked this part,” you admitted, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch from him.

Jungkook hummed, and you could see him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “It’s sad. If only he could have shared his true feelings with her.”

“I think he does, though.” This topic of conversation was not new. You and Jungkook had discussed Joel and Clementine’s relationship before. “Maybe his life really isn’t that interesting.”

“But if he weren’t that interesting, don’t you think she’d notice?”

“Maybe not. He’s interesting because of her.” He turned his head to stare at you, but you just shrugged. “He’s a book nerd. He goes to work and goes home. His life only has meaning because she’s in it. That’s all.”

His brows furrowed. “Have you been watching this without me?”

“You wish.” You snorted out a laugh and rolled your eyes. “I don’t even like it that much.”

“Then why don’t you complain when we watch it?”

You could feel the tension in the room dissipate slightly. Whatever funk he had been in earlier seemed to have left the moment you started talking about Clem and Joel. You sighed, still trying to determine if you wanted to broach this subject.

You liked your friendship with Jungkook. He knew almost everything about you. It was nice. It was home. Maybe it would be better to just leave well enough alone. Then again...

“Because it’s what best friends do,” you said softly, crossing your legs on the sofa so that you were facing him. “Just like they stay up ‘till three-thirty in the morning listening to their drunk friend ramble about arcade games.”

He ducked his head and laughed sheepishly. “I’m glad you made it to your meeting on time.”

“Let’s not sleep on the couch again for a while. I woke up and I felt like I aged 50 years.”

“Sober Jungkook does not make promises for Drunk Jungkook.” He laughed, pulling his legs up so he was hugging his knees facing you. He fell silent, and you watched as, after a moment, his smile fell and the gears started turning in his head.

You gave him time to process his thoughts, your focus shifting to the final scene of the movie--Joel and Clementine in Joel’s car, listening to the tape of Clem’s memories.

“You know,” you began tentatively. “I’m a book nerd. I go to work and come home. My life really isn’t that interesting.”

Jungkook’s eyes met yours briefly, and after a moment, you could see the lightbulb turn on. “Are you saying that I’m your Clementine?”

“Not in as many words. And not exactly. But…” You shrugged.

“No.” His face scrunched up in disagreement. “No way. I’m not your Clementine. We’re nowhere near as-”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off with a sigh. “In the six years I’ve known you, I have been in your orbit. I’ve traveled the world because I have the happy misfortune of assisting Sejin-oppa and managing your social media presence. I go out because you ask me to. I stay in because you want to. I hang out with your friends, eat your favorite foods, watch your favorite movies.” You couldn’t help the small smile threatening to show itself. “My life would not be this interesting without you in it.”

You watched him chew on his bottom lip in thought. “So what are you saying? Because if I’m Clementine and you’re Joel… I’ve seen this movie, and I’m not sure I like how it ends.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it won’t end the same way.” You moved closer so that your knees were barely a foot from Jungkook’s shins. “We could try, and we could fail spectacularly. We could do nothing and fall apart anyway. It happens. Friends drift.” Gingerly, you took his hand from where it clutched his knee. You were quiet as you traced over the micro-tattoos that covered his skin. Finally, you took a breath and continued. “Or, we could try, and we could succeed.”

“I don’t want us to fall apart like Clem and Joel do.” His voice was soft, timid. You hadn’t heard him this scared since the band meetings in 2018 that almost separated the group.

“I have more faith in us than I do in Clem and Joel.”

“But what if we end up hating each other?”

“I can’t think of anything I don’t like about you right now.”

Jungkook smiled at that, and honestly, you were a little impressed with yourself. You didn’t think you had seen the movie enough to pull quotes like that out of your ass.

“But you could, though.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You could end up hating me because I’m-”

“You’re obnoxious. You don’t take no for an answer. You’re the loudest eater on this side of the universe. You get drunk and keep me up to three-thirty in the morning.” You laughed, surprised at how happy you sounded. “Koo, I’m already over the moon with you. You’re my best friend. If I couldn’t handle that, do you really think we would be here right now?”

“But what if it makes things weird?”

“Things are already going to be weird. We passed weird a long fucking time ago, bub. This shit here,” you poked his knee for emphasis. “Is uncharted territory. And there’s no going back.”

His brow furrowed, and you watched him chew on his lip again. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

“I’m fucking terrified,” you admitted. His eyes went wide as he looked at you. “But… god, I knew from the moment I met you that I would always be in your corner. I trust you, Koo. You haven’t let me down yet.”

Jungkook sighed, his bottom lip back between his teeth. He shifted, then, so that his legs were crossed, your knees pressed together. You wished you knew what he was thinking.

You weren’t lying when you said there was no going back. And if you were honest with yourself, you knew that if he declined, you would be crushed.

His dark eyes met yours, the little crease between his eyebrows appearing and disappearing as his focus shifted around your face. It was as if he was studying you, trying to commit things to memory.

“Okay,” he said softly, his eyes darting away from you.

“Okay?”

Jungkook nodded, leaning forward to grab your hand. It was quiet, the only sound being Beck singing “Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometime” as the credits to the movie rolled. He shifted then, tugging you closer so you ended up leaning into his side. At first, you were a little surprised at how absolutely normal it felt to be cuddled up in his side. He slung his arm around your shoulders while casually searching for another movie to watch, and you tangled your legs together.

Perhaps things had technically changed, but it felt like just a normal Wednesday.

Read more of the series here

[lcnelyinthesky]

a/n: hi!!! sakusa comfort fic!! hc that his guilty pleasure is chess oooo lmao this is it this is what we write now im ellie and i barely know chess but last night at three am i listened to the guy i like explain a chess game to me and it was nice... but like im pretty sure im shadowbanned or smth my engagement is DOWN pls interact 

genre: fluff, comfort fic

warnings: none

word count: 1k

enjoy~

It always felt strange to wake up in the morning. Cracking your eyes open to the new day felt like the descent further into hell, and there was really no way out of it. This was just life, and maybe someday it wouldn’t fucking suck.

The actions of the day just proved it more. The way you fell into the shadows proved something in your head you didn’t want to believe. Nothing ever made you feel more alone. So as you sat, staring up at the ceiling after a day full of numbness and pain, your head wondered who would still be in your corner. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi wasn’t exactly your type. He was far too brash and blunt and some little habits he had would live their lives on your nerves. He was so different from you, but it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t admire him--in some unexplainable way. You hadn’t known him for long, but you were angry about how quickly he became all you thought about. How quickly he ended up as the thing that kept you smiling late at night. He wasn’t kind and he wasn’t light. He would never pity you. You knew that, even when you called him with tear filled eyes. 

“Hey,” your voice broke over the phone, cracking under the pressure of piles of worries.

“What?” He really wasn’t very kind.

“I just-” you didn’t mean to stutter or stop, but your body wouldn’t allow you to do anything other than cry.

“y/n?” 

“Can you just talk to me, please?” Instability dripped from your words as saltwater dried on your cheeks. He seemed to get it though, sort of.

“Okay,” Kiyoomi’s brain was swimming with ideas, but there was some deep worry nipping away at the wonder. He wasn’t used to consoling people. He didn’t know what you wanted, but he figured he’d fill in the gaps somehow. “How much do you know about chess?”

The out of pocket question startled your wilting sanity, slowly peaking your interest once again. “What?”

“Chess.” 

You made a light placeholder noise before responding with a quiet “Not much, I guess.”

“Well,” You could hear typing through the phone, “I’m about to start a game. I’ll explain my moves.” 

And that's what he did.

“I typically start by moving the pawn in front of my king to D4, because you can move pawns two places on their first move. Most people do this, if they know anything about chess.” It was almost one in the morning. Everything about Kiyoomi would make anyone assume he slept early and deeply. He never stopped surprising you. You hummed in response, stifling a breath. “The person I’m against did the same. My knight is going to F3 now. We’re still staring out, but it's the best move for this part of the game.”

“The knight’s the horse-looking one, right?” your voice was still very soft. Every word seemed to be dripping. He let out a low giggle.

“Yes it is.” The sounds of the game were light and calming, even if they were artificial. The prerecorded noise of plastic hitting wood echoed in your head. “He moved his Bishop to B4. If I move my pawn at D2, I’ll be in check. He might be trying to take my other knight, if I move it to C3. Glad I didn’t premove that one. Pawn to G4 instead, huh?”

“What does that do?”

“Nothing, really, but if he moves his Bishop to take the pawn at D2, which wouldn’t be a good- oh he did it anyway. Knight to D2, taking that Bishop.”

Your eyes shut as your body sank into the mattress below. Kiyoomi’s voice was softer than you’d ever heard it before. He seemed to be tiptoeing around you to make sure nothing provoked the deep depths of your brain, but at the same time wasn’t thinking of you as worthless. Before you knew it, you were drifting.

“He's really not very good at this.” Kiyoomi’s voice was light, like he was suppressing a giggle. It was strange to hear him less serious. “Bishop to B5.”

“What do you mean?”

“The game, or this one anyway, only lets you make certain moves sometimes, and all of his are just making it easier for me to win.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, he’s” Kiyoomi laughed, “He’s, really bad. I’ll go easy on him,” more than once, “I won't take his queen this move. I’ll castle.”

“What’s that?” His laugh felt forgein. It felt wrong; it was something you thought no one would ever hear. It was something you didn’t know he could do.

“If your rook hasn’t been moved in a game, you can switch it with your king. That’s castling. The rook goes to F1 and the king goes to G1. usually it puts your king in a safer position, guarding it better.”

You let out a noise to tell him you understood and closed your eyes again. 

“Damn, he took my Bishop.” That was the last thing you heard before you went to bed. Your brain shut down to the sounds of fake chess clacking and light humming, all mixed together by quiet explanations by a deep, smooth voice. Potentially the best way to fall asleep.

The panic of the day had worn off hours ago, seconds after he started taking the lead, but it came back the second you woke up the next morning. Spiralling thoughts persisted, wondering if you annoyed him or woke him up the night before, until those subsided too.

From Sakusa: You seemed to have passed out. I hope you’re doing better, Y/N. Thank you for listening.

From Sakusa: Don’t tell anyone I’m into chess.

A small smile crept to your lips, sleep-deprived muscles moving slowly and achingly but without your consent. 

To Sakusa: your secret’s safe with me ;)

You dropped your phone onto the bed below and sat up, thinking about all the ways you’d quietly tease him about how Sakusa Kiyoomi was a chess nerd.

[mind-reader1]

All of Me (Jake x MC)

This is for @princesstopgunswife 

A/N: The Jake and MC reunion that everyone wanted. 

Find a link to my masterlist here

Warnings: angsty, fluffly. 

Word Count: 2,743

Five years, none of them could believe it had been that long since they’d all been together in one place, since they’d all left the island...well almost all of them. 

Everyone had mourned the loss of their friend, the person who brought them all together and of course the one who saved them all. Despite mourning her, they still moved forward with their lives, graduated college, got jobs, reconnected. Grace and Aleister got married, Sean and Michelle decided to give it another chance. Even Estela worked to move on, accepting that she could have a life without vengeance. That wasn’t the be all and end all of her existence. 

Then there was Jake. He’d lost Mike, he’d lost his wife all in the course of 24 hours. Lundgren was dead, eliminating all his hopes of clearing his name; of going back to the states to see his family again. He stayed in Costa Rica after flying the newfound group of friends off La Huerta. The first few months he would drink himself into a stupor every night, replaying her voicemail until he fell asleep, desperate to hear her voice again. 

They had all come to visit him at one point or another, worried about him and how he was coping. Especially Diego, he’d lost Varyyn, he understood Jake’s grief. Diego tried to convince Jake that Taylor would’ve wanted him to find happiness with someone else, but Jake never did, he couldn’t do that to her. Even if they didn’t get to spend their year and one day together, they’d had thousands of lives together on La Huerta and they would always be connected. No one would ever fill that hole in his heart and he didn’t want anyone too. Diego didn’t push, he felt the same way about Varyyn, connected forever. 

The five year reunion was upon them now though, Jake leaned against Deliah trying to play it cool, but he was nervous to return to the island, unsure of what to expect. He’d thought so often about going back there himself, about trying to find any trace of her but he’d never been able to bring himself to do it. 

“How does he get to look the same after all these years baking in the sun when he doesn’t even use moisturizer!” Jake cracked a smile, he’d recognize that voice anywhere. 

“I think it’s the rum Maybelline, you should try it.” Michelle rolled her eyes. 

“Good to see you Jake.” 

“Cap.” Sean came up and dropped Michelle’s bags before clapping Jake on the back. 

“Caught your last game. Talk about a hail mary, guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks though.” 

“Chyeah! Only because I made it possible for him.” “Drax.” Sean and Craig had gone pro and been drafted together, the dynamic duo of the NFL. 

“Don’t you nerds have anything to talk about besides football?” 

“Skrillex. Hack any foreign governments recently?”  Zahra smirked. 

“Whenever you want that record cleared, you better have my money.” Jake smiled, Zahra had offered to hack the government and clear his record so he could return home to his family. He felt like he would only be a burden though, were Taylor still with him, things may have been different.

 “...the laws of quantum physics clearly state-“ 

“Malfoy, brain trust! Heard y’all got married. Congratulations!” Grace beamed at Jake and pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Thank you Jake!” Grace swiftly hit Aleister on the arm. 

“Yes, thank you Jacob.” 

“Let’s see, still missing Petey, Ariel, Julio Child and Katniss.”

 “I’m right here.” Jake jumped and turned to see Estela staring at him, Diego walking up behind her. 

“Dammit! You don’t need to sneak up on me like that.” Diego chuckled as Estela smirked and climbed onto the plane. 

“What are you laughing at Petey?” Diego innocently held up his hands and boarded the plane.

 He heard the laughter of the last two before he saw them, Raj was licking something off his fingertips, no doubt something that had come from the container Quinn was carrying. 

“Jake, dude, you have to try one of these cupcakes.” Raj happily rubbed his belly. 

“I’m sure they’re great Ariel, but I don’t want to get frosting all over the cockpit. Save one for me once we land?”

 “Of course!” Quinn also wrapped him in a big hug and kissed his cheek before boarding the plane. 

“All right. Well we’ve got the whole Brady Bunch now….so let’s do this.” 

The plane was eerily silent as they flew over the water, their minds inevitably drifting back to the first plane ride they’d taken together. Diego made his way up to the cockpit and took a seat, Jake was rigid at the controls, a death grip on yoke. 

“Jake...how are you?” Jake didn’t take his eyes off the horizon, his body trembling softly with adrenaline. 

“I’m fine Petey. It’s an island. Been here probably a hundred times.” 

“Jake, you know what I mean.” He hated being vulnerable, sharing his feelings, anyone he opened up to he inevitably lost. Diego was the closest connection he had to Taylor these days, he was the sole reason Taylor had even existed. 

Talk to him Jake. He could hear her voice in his mind, encouraging him to keep making those connections.

“I miss her Diego. So damn much. I thought I could do this with you all but I’m not sure.” It was the first time Jake had ever called Diego by name. 

“I miss her too. I think this will be good for us Jake, maybe we can leave the ghosts behind.” 

“I don’t want to forget, I never want to forget.” 

“You never could, I’m just saying...maybe it’s time to leave behind the guilt that keeps haunting us.” He had a point, Jake felt guilty still, like he hadn’t done everything he could’ve to make her stay. Deep down he knew that was wrong though, he knew it was her decision and she was a selfless person. She chose the world over herself, so that he could have a life to go back to, maybe it was time to stop feeling guilty about living that life. 

“Thanks Petey. Now get back to your seat so I can land.” Diego smiled softly and returned to his seat as Jake made a smooth landing on La Huerta.

 Since Rourke’s arrest, Aleister had taken over the Celestial resort. When the world had returned to normal, so had all the guests and the island had continued to operate as if nothing happened. For this weekend though, Aleister closed the entire resort to outside guests and staff. It would be the eleven of them alone. 

They all collected their room keys, staying in the same rooms they’d had before, except for Jake. He stared for ages at the honeymoon suite key, it was the room where they’d spent their first night together, something he would never forget. He wasn’t sure he could face it again though. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and swiped the key, riding the elevator up to the room, it seemed to move at an agonizingly slow pace.

He entered the room and sucked in a breath, flooded with memories of that night. 

Hey you. 

Hey. 

Jake wandered over to the large pane windows overlooking the island. He remembered every moment of that night, this is where they’d kissed each other, he’d pushed her back up against the glass, desperate to feel her body pressed against his for the first time, what he wouldn’t give to feel that just one more time. 

“I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you.” He whispered in longing. 

Then have me. She had said that back to him their first night together and that was the beginning of the end for him. He was hooked. They’d thrashed that room and didn’t give a damn, it was strange to see it put back together. He opened the window to get some fresh air but he could swear he smelled her perfume drifting to his nose over the ocean breeze.

 He slammed the window shut and laid down on the bed still in his clothes, staring at the canopy. The bed felt cold and foreign to him, he tried turning on his sides but he couldn’t fall asleep, every time he closed his eyes he would see her beside him in bed only to reach over and find it empty. He slipped out of the room and went down to the beach, snagging a hotel towel on his way out. Maybe a night out under the stars with the ocean waves could help him clear his mind. 

\\

Vaanu had been made whole again and should have felt at peace, but there always seemed to be something keeping it from its eternal rest. Just a sliver that felt like it was missing, the feeling only grew the closer the 5 year anniversary of becoming whole came. 

Why do I feel as though I am still broken? Vaanu bellowed in despair. Desperately searching for the beacon from its missing shard, it followed it to a well known place, La Huerta. Vaanu summoned the physical manifestation of Taylor that had been created by one of the shards, it could sense that she was the part of itself that was still missing a piece.

 “Where am I?” 

Why am I still broken? Memories came flooding back to Taylor like a tsunami, saying goodbye to Jake and the others, then it was all black until waking up here. She could hear its voice in her mind and feel exactly what it was talking about, she felt a sense of emptiness. It took her only a moment to realize why. 

“Jake.” That feeling of emptiness only grew, she longed to see him again, to hear his voice. She could feel the ghost of his touch on her skin, lighting it on fire with pleasure, a feeling only he could give her. Something she couldn’t live without. 

Jake?

“Jake and I fell in love over 1,000 times in different timelines. I promised him a year and a day, a part of my soul will forever be with him.” Taylor wondered how long it had been, wondered if he moved on, if she still felt this broken though she knew he hadn’t and that somehow hurt her more.

 Broken. 

“Let me be with Jake. If we’re together then the shard is together, you’ll be whole again.” She didn’t know how, but she could tell Vaanu was thinking. “Please, you know you won’t feel whole until he dies and that will be years. Years you could have spent being whole again if you just let me go to him.” She pleaded, desperate. 

There was a bright flash and when Taylor opened her eyes she was on the familiar beach of La Huerta, there was a towel on the beach, void of an occupant. She needed to get her bearings, find a way to get in touch with Jake. She was back! 

\\

Jake had been unsuccessful trying to sleep on the beach as well, he’d turned to his last resort, alcohol. He’d found some rum but what he really wanted was the good stuff, some strong whiskey that would knock him right out. 

Someone poked him in the shoulder and he turned to see who it was, it was Taylor, smiling at him in her blue tank top and khaki pants. He must’ve been hallucinating another memory again. 

“Help ya with something Princess?” He turned away, his focus back on liquor, he didn’t notice her frown. She thought he’d be more excited to see her, like she was him. Maybe she’d been mistaken, maybe he had moved on. 

“Just seeing what you’re up to.” She said deflated. 

“Trying to see if we got any good whiskey left so I can stop reliving all these damn memories. Like this one of you asking me to come to your room. You?” 

“Jake...this isn’t a memory.” 

“Must be dreamin’ then. Guess I did find the good whiskey.” 

“Jake look at me! I’m actually here!”

“You say that in all my dreams and then I wake up Princess.” He whispered heavily, sounding emotionally tired, it would go away if he’d just listen to her! She hit him in the arm and scowled at him until he looked at her. 

“Ow!” 

“Jake, please. It’s really me.” He shook his head, she could see the pain in his eyes. 

“No. You went with Vaanu and that was it. My wife is dead!” He was fighting back tears. 

“Jake, what do I have to do to prove to you I’m real, that I’m here?” He turned and grabbed both sides of her face, their lips meeting in a fiery kiss with years of longing poured into it. Taylor melted against Jake and he pulled away, breathing heavily his eyes still closed. 

“If I open my eyes, are you still gonna be here Taylor?” 

“Yes, Jake. Now please, open your eyes and look at me.” She whispered, cupping his cheek. Her touch felt so real, Jake didn’t want to risk it. He wanted to stay in this moment for just a little longer.

“I can’t Princess. I can’t.” Stubborn ass, she thought to herself. 

“Come with me.” She had one last idea up her sleeve to convince him, dragging him to the elevator, she kept their hands laced together as she pulled him to their room. 

“I’ve got to give myself credit, this is my most elaborate hallucination yet.” 

“Jacob Lucas McKenzie. I am right here, right now, with you. Your wife. Your naked wife. So help me god if you don’t open your eyes to look at me I will go back to Vaanu.” Taylor had in fact stripped down to her red lacy bra and underwear set, she knew it was Jake’s favorite and if this didn’t convince him, nothing would. “Dammit Princess.” Jake opened his eyes and stared. There she was. Still there. In front of him. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He rubbed them and blinked a few times but she was always still there. He was overcome with emotion. He didn’t know if he should cry, kiss her or give into the desire coursing through him. 

“I have never wanted anything as badly as I want you right now.” 

“Then have me.” 

They came together and years of pent up energy came pouring out. Sure they’d wrecked the room the first time, but this was 5 years of pent up sexual energy between newly-wed soulmates, it was a whole new level of destruction before they finally made it to the bed. 

As they laid there after, Jake couldn’t stop staring at her, tracing every line of her body. 

“I missed you so much Taylor.” He whispered. 

“How long was I gone Jake?” 

“5 years.” Her heart sank, imagining him alone for 5 years, they could’ve had kids by now. 

“I’m sorry Jake, I’m so sorry. I'm never going to leave you again.” He pulled her close and pressed his forehead to hers, their noses gently brushing. 

“I wouldn’t survive it if you did Princess. I don’t understand though, how are you back? I would’ve sold my soul if it meant getting you back but I didn’t think it was possible..” 

“It’s because of you Jake.” His eyes shot open in confusion. “When we got handfasted, after spending all those timelines together and falling in love every time, a part of me is literally in your heart Jake.” 

“I don’t follow.” 

“Vaanu wanted me to return so it could be whole, but we’re soulmates Jake. A little shard broke off and resides in you. When we’re together, we’re whole, because we’re whole, so is Vaanu.” 

“So you really are back for good? You’re staying forever?” 

“Forever top gun.” Tears of joy began to stream down Jake’s face and Taylor wiped them away as Jake wiped hers. 

“Good, because it’s going to take a long time to catch up on those five years of married life we missed.” Taylor let out a soft laugh. 

“I guess it’s a good thing we don’t have to leave this bed until morning. Now, tell me everything.” Jake laid on his back and Taylor rested her head on his chest, looking up at him as he told her about everything she’d missed. 

Finally, I am whole again. 

@drakesroyalromance​

[kitty-ray]

Something Like Home Ch. 2

Hey so I really liked this story so I decided to make a second chapter. Basically it’s more bkdk fluff (here’s part one) 

AO3 

Katsuki suddenly has a lot to think about. Last night, totally unprompted and totally not unwelcomed, Deku decided on his own free will to crawl into Katsuki’s bed and demand Katsuki to hold him. Honestly? Who is Katsuki to refuse such an offer?

However, this is Deku we’re talking about. The same fucking Deku that would snivel and cry yet not give up in a fight no matter how beaten down he was. The same fucking Deku Katsuki watched time and time again almost die because he has no value on his life (which, side not, that is something they are definitely going to have to talk to him about). The same fucking Deku that’s been on the edge of his mind for his whole life. Sure, some of those thoughts lingered around Deku’s mouth. And yes, maybe some of those thoughts led elsewhere, but that’s beside the point!

Katsuki grabs his pillow and screams into it. How, oh how, did Katsuki Bakugou ever get in a situation like this?

See, this wouldn’t normally be an issue if it weren’t for the fact that Katsuki’s heart was most definitely slamming against his chest almost all last night. He’s only ever associated that feeling with a fight, and Katsuki knows for a fact that they weren’t fighting.

Katsuki’s not dumb. He’s not entirely immune to emotions and feelings. Hell, he’s had his fair share of crushes in his life, but those were way before middle school. (Okay, that’s a lie. He may or may not have had a crush on a few of the boys in his class, but those were quickly pummeled away before they could go any farther. Don’t tell Kirishima.)

What he’s feeling for Deku is definitely not a crush. It’s more of a… childhood friends turned enemies turned rivals turned hey, let’s occasionally sleep together because neither of us knows how to sleep alone anymore, yeah? That’s it. That is exactly what they are.

“I,” Katsuki whispers to his ceiling, “do not like Deku. I hate him.”

He did not, but it’s easier to say that than anything else. This mantra repeats in his head until he’s almost certain that he believes it. It seems to work, especially when they’re in the locker room almost a week later and somebody brings up relationships.

“Yeah, we’re going to go get lunch Sunday. Got the release forms and everything,” Sero says to the Kaminari. He grabs his uniform jacket. “I’m really excited.”

Kaminari slaps Sero on the back. “Hell yeah, man! Hey, does she have any single friends?”

“Dunno, but I can ask.”

“Sero, my pal, my dude, you are the bestest friend ever.”

“Pretty sure that’s not a word, Kaminari.”

Katsuki frowns into his locker. He should have expected this. They’re high school students, so dating is not totally out of the question. He can’t help but feel slightly behind in that regard.

But then he reminds himself that if he’s going to be the Number One Hero™, then he has no time for trivial things like relationships and dating and (dare he say it) kissing.

“So, Midoriya,” the grape fucker’s voice rings out. Katsuki tries not to look at them. “You’re popular with the ladies. I caught you behind the school the other day with some pretty girl confessing! Tell me, tell me! She’s got big boobies, right? You said yes, right?”

Kirishima walks over, crossing his arms. His mouth curls in disgust. “Dude, too far.” Then he looks up to Deku. “But yeah, Midoriya. We all heard about it and kinda want to know how it went.”

Next to him, Deku’s face goes bright red. Katsuki denies the fluttering in his stomach, choosing to ignore whether it’s because of delight or jealousy. He pulls out his tie, pretending not to listen.

“Oh, well, um…” Deku’s voice trails off, and out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki can see how red his face is. Cute. Turning back to his locker, Deku hides his face. “I turned her down,” he whispers.

This time, the butterflies Katsuki elects to ignore are definitely from delight.

Deku comes again, later that week. Katsuki’s full attention is on his small TV screen, the controller in his hand warm from lengthy use, and he’s just about to beat the boss when there’s a knock at the door. Quickly, he pauses it, the threat dying in his throat when the door opens and Deku slips inside.

“The fuck? Deku, it’s late.” Katsuki says, rocking his chair back. It takes a second to register his red-rimmed eyes and shiny lips. By then, Deku has already made his way to Katsuki.

He fully expects him to climb into Katsuki’s bed, as per their unsaid rules of whatever the hell it is they have going on, but Katsuki only stares in amazement as Dekuk crawls into his lap and buries his face into Katsuki’s shoulder. “H-hey!” he splutters. Real smooth.

“I’m sorry,” Deku whispers. His arms loop Katsuki’s middle. “Just go back to your game. I’ll move if I’m in the way.”

Suddenly, he is infinitely grateful that Deku isn’t looking at him because his face is certainly a bright shade of red. He doesn’t say anything to Deku before unpausing the game and finishing the fight. It’s hard to play like this, but Deku’s warmth and sobs keep him from moving, so he stays. If this is what the nerd needs, then the nerd gets.

A cut scene comes along, and Katsuki takes this opportunity to hug the nerd back. He won’t let himself go any farther; no kisses or sweet nothings to be had. Sure, he might have slipped up a few nights ago (okay, twice, but who’s counting?), but Deku was asleep then! He wouldn’t have noticed! Not like now when he is very, very much awake and very, very much moving.

It’s not a lot of movement, but every time the nerd shifts his hips to get comfortable, Katsuki notices. Oh boy, does he notice. It’s a totally normal reaction for a teenage boy to have on his crush rival! Especially when said rival is sitting on his lap and practically grinding on him.

Deku’s fingers grasp the bottom of Katsuki’s shirt, and he nearly explodes. Okay, Katsuki, think of puppies, kittens, Kirishima’s god awful--shit no, don’t think about Kirishima! Girls, think of girls! Mom and Dad! Oh, shit, I got to call them, don’t I?

“Kacchan,” Deku whispers, his small voice bringing Katsuki out of his attempt to calm down. “Thank you.”

“For what, nerd?”

On the screen, Katsuki’s avatar finds a treasure chest full of useless items. He’ll have to sell those later to buy something good.

Deku doesn’t answer, so Katsuki focuses his attention back on the game. He feels Deku’s lips on his neck. It’s soft, barely there, and probably not intentional, but it makes his brain go haywire nonetheless. He fumbles while trying to take down the miniboss and loses half a life.

Eventually, Katsuki has enough and saves the game. Deku shifts again. “Oh. Are you done?”

He grunts in response. The controller hangs loose in his hands as he wraps his arms around Deku, hearing him squeak. It takes a couple of seconds for the nerd to relax again, but when he does, he starts crying again.

“I had a nightmare again,” Deku whispers. Saying nothing, Katsuki rubs his back. His mom used to do that when he was a kid, and it never failed to make him feel better. Occasionally, whenever Deku would sleep over and he’d have a nightmare, she would rub his back, too.

Katsuki buries his nose into Deku’s curls. They’re still wet and frizzy from his bath. (That’s another thing they’re going to have to talk about.) “Wanna…” he pauses, unsure of himself. “Wanna talk about it?”

They don’t talk about the nightmares. It’s another unspoken rule between the two; you have a nightmare and you go back to sleep. That’s just how they did it.

But this time is different. The last time was different, too. Deku came in here, on his accord, asked Katsuki to hold him, and dealt with the nightmares in a different way. So, yeah, maybe their unspoken rules can be bent and broken once in a while.

Deku sniffles and pulls away, green eyes glassy. The light from the TV and desk lamp makes it hard to see anything but shadows on his face, but Katsuki has known Deku long enough to know exactly how he looks crying. “It’s stupid,” Deku mutters.

“Yeah, and so is Dunce Face, but we still put up with him.”

“You don’t.”

“That’s not the point. What’s the nightmare?”

He cracks a smile before wiping his eyes. “I’m going to tell Kaminari you said that.” Seeing Katsuki’s determined stare, Deku sighs. “Sometimes, I dream of you dying. Or it’s me. Or it’s everyone else. I just… I feel so helpless and I can’t do anything about it and-and--” His words are cut off as he gasps for air. “They just won’t stop.”

Katsuki does something he might regret; he takes Deku’s face in his hands. It’s wet underneath his palms, but he doesn’t pay attention to that. He does, however, pay attention to how soft his cheeks are or how bright his eyes shine. Katsuki suddenly feels the urgent need to kiss him.

“Do you…?” he starts to ask but trails off. This has never been a spoken thing between them. If he says it out loud, he might break the fragile thing they have set up. They’re swimming through uncharted territory, fumbling along as they try to make sense of what is up and what is down.

Thankfully, Deku seems to know what he’s trying to say. A scarred hand lays across one of Katsuki’s as Deku smiles at him. “Can I?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

It doesn’t occur to Katsuki until now that he could be asking a double-loaded question. What he means to ask is if Deku wants to sleep here, yet he also recognizes that he very well could be asking to do more. He tries not to look down at Deku’s lips, tries to keep his gaze locked onto Deku’s, but he ultimately fails. Hopefully, Deku doesn’t notice.

He does notice, and Katsuki notices him noticing, and it’s enough to make his heart do somersaults.

There’s a new question hanging between them. This one is exhilarating and terrifying and makes Katsuki rethink his entire position about relationships and dating and (he dare says) kissing. His fingers find their way to the curls at the nape of his neck. They’re not as soft as Katsuki thought they would be, but they still feel nice.

Katsuki nods, answering both questions at once.

At first, his lips are barely there, but when Katsuki doesn’t pull away, he presses further. He rather likes his lips. He also likes how Deku is obviously just as inexperienced as he is, and he especially likes how Deku breaks up the kiss because he’s smiling.

“I, um, yeah.” Deku rests his forehead on his. “Was that okay?”

Katsuki opens his eyes, and he sees that he’s already looking back at him. His cheeks are still wet from his tears, which he finds disgusting. Unfortunately, his tissues are too far away.

“It was fine or whatever.”

Deku knows he’s lying; his shit-eating grin tells him so. He pokes at Katsuki’s ribs, causing him to yelp. “It was fine, Kacchan?” Deku laughs. “Only fine?”

“Ah! S-stop! Deku!”

“Admit it! It was good!”

Katsuki locks eyes with him, his own fingers coming up to Deku’s sides. When Deku squeaks, he smirks. “I will say no such thing.”

“Kacchan! Sto-o-op!”

There’s banging on the wall before Kirishima yells, “Shut up!”

They try to wiggle away from each other, but with Deku’s legs locked around Katsuki’s waist and Katsuki balancing in his chair, they only manage to crash on the floor. Groaning, he rubs his arm. “Fuck you,” he mutters.

“You okay?” Deku’s green eyes are alight with mirth as he stares at Katsuki. It makes his heart flutter with unease and excitement. He nods.

In this moment, he realizes that his stupid face is actually rather beautiful. The soft glow of the desk lamp highlights his freckles and scars, his cheeks flushed from laughter, and Katsuki thinks he might be falling a little bit. They’re staring at each other, both not wanting to break this tension. It’s electrifying and exhilarating and makes Katsuki absolutely terrified of what he’s feeling. Deku’s legs are entangled with his, but that doesn’t stop him from reaching over and interlacing their fingers together.

“I liked it,” he whispers, almost afraid to break this little bubble of theirs, and they don’t break eye contact as he whispers, “and I think I’m starting to like you.”

Deku smiles at him. “I think I’m starting to like you, too.”

It takes them several moments for them to even think about getting into bed, and when they do, Katsuki doesn’t hesitate to pull him close. His fingers trace random fingers on top of his shirt, and he smiles. Maybe crushes aren’t so bad after all.

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 6

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

April 2015

“You ready?” Sonny called as he came into her apartment. They’d agreed to skip the pretense and drive together, and Sonny had booked a hotel room within walking distance after confirming she’d be okay with it. His bag was in the trunk, and he grinned when she came out bundled up, the same Fordham sweatshirt she’d stolen under her coat and the little wheeled bag beside her. 

“Ready,” she grinned, stretching up to kiss him, and he felt like he could do anything. He took her bag despite her protest.

“I got us a room for the next two nights. We ain’t gotta stay both, but I thought it might be nice to go to dinner? I got both nights off, too.”

“That sounds real nice. I packed some real people clothes anyway.”

“Perfect. Now let’s get going. Bella said you guys got a make up artist coming.”

“Yeah. She got one and a hairdresser.”

“She’s definitely the one who wouldn’t wanna get herself ready.”

“Yeah. We gotta get there in time. What’re the groomsmen doing?”

“Playing video games and taking turns shaving and showering.”

“Not fair.”

“You look hot. You don’t need hair and make up.”

“You always think I’m hot.”

“That’s because you always are.”

“So are you. I got real lucky on the husband front.”

“You really think so?” She could sense the current under what he said. It wasn’t just Am I hot? but was also Are you lucky?

“Incredibly lucky. I got you.” He slammed the trunk shut, cheeks pink when he settled in the driver’s seat. It was familiar to drive with their fingers laced, and he smiled to see her wedding set in place. Bella had gone by the bakery to surprise her one day, and his sister was very pleased to let him know both rings were on her left ring finger. He’d told the squad the same day he told Olivia, and his ring had been on his hand every day since, the cross the only thing on the chain again.

“Think they’d notice if I do my own make up and hang out with you?”

“She really does have y’all going like two hours longer than Gina did.”

“Yeah. Gina was very ‘Let’s get down to business, get photos, and get married.’ Bella’s way more into the matching robes and face masks vibe. But she’ll be happy.”

“I’ll check in a lot, okay? I don’t like the video games Tommy does.”

“You just like Sims. It’s endearing.”

“It’s kinda fun.”

“You spent six hours building a house once.”

“I had t’make sure it was perfect. They were having twins, Tor.”

“I love you, you absolute nerd.”

“Your nerd.” 

“Damn straight.” Sonny dropped her off at the venue, checking them in at the hotel and dropping off their bags. He stopped by the bridal suite when he got to the venue, thankful the weather moved the ceremony inside now that he was out of the cold. 

“Dominick! No boys allowed,” Bella said, wagging her finger at him, hair in rollers. 

“I know, I know. I’m just bringing Tor the key and her charger, okay?”

“You got her key?” Gina asked, leaning back to look at him and lifting her brow. “That sounds like you’re sharing a room.”

“We are,” Victoria said plainly, taking both items gladly. All the girls had changed into robes, but she’d opted to stay in his oversized sweatshirt until the inevitable photos. A primal part of him liked knowing that.

“That sounds like a reconciliation,” the younger Carisi sang, and Victoria rolled her eyes. “And you two snuck out of the party early like you used to.”

“I’m real glad you approve of our progress, but if you put too much pressure on us, we might break again.” Victoria knew he didn’t mean it and just wanted them to drop it, which she was grateful for. They weren’t quite there, but she trusted he’d probably open up by the end of their weekend together. Even if he didn’t, she’d decided she wanted to start planning to see him more after the wedding. Several late nights with Margy and a bottle of wine had told her that much. If you prove you’ll be there and patient, he’ll probably feel less like he’s scaring you off, she’d told Victoria after another night analyzing their last four encounters.

“Fine. But just know I’m telling ma. Maybe she’ll stop being mean to Tor.”

“Ignore Bella. She’s been glaring, but I think Sonny talked sense into her at Thanksgiving. She’s mad at both of them now.”

“As she should be,” he shrugged, kissing Victoria. “See ya for pictures.”

“See ya,” she grinned, ignoring his sisters’ squeals. This marathon made her kind of tired. Her hair and makeup were done soon enough, and she was grateful the dress was a dusty, dark enough pink in person to look good on her. She liked pink on Sonny, especially since the sides of his brunette hair had started going gray, against the blue of his eyes. The bridesmaids, the two Carisi sisters, Victoria, and a couple of Bella’s friends, all posed together in the matching silky robes before slipping their dresses on. 

“And you thought that pink wouldn’t look good,” Sonny said softly against her ear before kissing her cheek. 

“You like it?” Her hands rested on his shoulders as she smiled up at him, and he felt giddy. It was official. This was how they acted before, no almost needed. 

“I do. Beautiful color on you. And damn, my wife got a figure.”

“You’re the best hypeman,” she hummed as she straightened his tie. “I ever told you how handsome you look in a suit? Or how pretty pink makes your eyes?”

“I can stand to hear it again.” There was the cocky smile he got sometimes. “I’m starting to look old, doll.”

“Nah. Getting hotter.”

“Even with the gray?” He’d been self conscious about it before, when the evenly dispersed gray in his dark hair could be mistaken for a dirty blonde. His temples gave him away now, but she loved it.

“Even hotter with the gray.”

“Stop being gross,” Teresa whined. “It’s like when you were getting ready for homecoming again.” She was rewarded with her brother and sister-in-law’s middle fingers, and Victoria was pleased with Gianna’s disapproval and the picture the photographer snapped. They took pictures, and Sonny was glad when they settled in the back of the venue. He could see the back of Olivia, Barba, Amaro, and Rollins’ heads, and the change in his dynamic with Victoria had him looking forward to showing her off at the reception. 

“Shoes off at the reception. I intercept ma?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m supporting ninety percent of your weight, Tor.”

“Love you.”

“Do I need to hold ya until we walk?” 

“Not enough time to make a difference. But you’re a saint for offering.”

When Olivia saw Sonny with Victoria on his arm, it made sense why he’d been calmer the last two weeks. He’d been texting her more, though he thought he was sneaky enough no one noticed how he smiled at his phone throughout the day. She seemed to smooth his edges, and she and Amanda shared a look over the way the pair watched each other across the front of the venue. The ceremony was a quick enough affair, and Bella had decided to let her bridal party sit wherever they wanted. That led to Victoria stepping out of her shoes, pleased to be spared a big entrance. Heels in hand, she followed Sonny to the table his squad was at before dropping into her seat and giving a wave.

“Means a lot to Bella and Tommy you all came,” Sonny said, taking her shoes and tucking the wall by his chair. “This is my wife, Victoria. Tor, meet Rafael Barba, Olivia Benson, Nick Amaro, and Amanda Rollins.”

“Nice to meet all of ya. I’ve heard a lot.”

“Wish we could say the same,” Rollins said, and Victoria immediately recognized what Sonny had meant. No venom. Just protective of her occasional partner. And Benson was definitely the mother hen, shooting the blonde a look as Amaro and Barba concealed smiles.

“Get it all out now,” she joked, rolling her eyes. “Married into this family nine years ago.”

“Been putting up with Carisi that long? I’ll petition the pope for sainthood.” The three piece suit. The snark. Barba was just what she expected. 

“Think she deserves it,” Sonny chuckled, arm flung easily over the back of her chair. “I can be a pain in the ass.”

Conversation started to flow easily, and he was glad Victoria was tough enough to bite back at Rollins and Barba when they referenced anything touchy. Tommy’s family filled out the rest of the table, and he was glad to see the trial had brought them around to agree that what happened to Tommy was wrong. Teresa and Tommy’s brother gave the speeches, and he liked seeing the squad join in as Bella threw the bouquet and Tommy threw the garter. 

“Bella caught my bouquet, remember?” Victoria smiled up at him.

“Yeah. And Freddy Esposito got the garter.”

“Both of ‘em got married this year.”

“Was delayed for us. Our friends from back then are just now getting married.” 

“We’ve been married nine years and aren't even thirty. I think we were ahead of the curve.”

“But now my baby sister is married and pregnant.”

“Dom, you do know she and I are the same age?” Sonny blinked, squinting at her. 

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“We’re both twenty-seven.”

“No way Bella’s twenty-seven.”

“I like how you can fully separate me and Bella graduating together.”

“I forget,” he shrugged. “You always picked me anyway.”

“Then married you. Duh. Long game.”

“I hear people making noise.”

“They’re cutting the cake. Amaro has the garter half in his shirt pocket, and a three year old caught the bouquet. The same age you think Bella was when she caught mine.”

“Shut up,” he laughed, pulling her to stand at the edge of the dance floor to watch the first dance. His arms slid around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“He wouldn’t have to stoop so low if you’d wear your damn shoes, stellina.”

“Ma, leave her be.” Gianna rolled her eyes, but Sonny squeezed Victoria as the music started. “She’s coming back around. Called ya stellina instead of Victoria.”

It was kind of fun to watch the four members of his work family loosen up around the room. Amaro and Rollins were across the dance floor and not fooling anyone. Barba wasn’t sure what to make of any of the Carisis or Sullivans, but since they’d easily figured out that Olivia was not involved with him, the singles from both families had circled the man who was suddenly the most eligible bachelor. The best part was how hard Olivia ignored his visual pleas to be saved as she talked to one of Tommy’s uncles. It was nice not pretending work and personal life were separate; the squad had taken him in like he hadn’t anticipated, and now his family was taking the chance to accept his squad. 

When the first dance was over, Sonny pulled her onto the dance floor, holding her flush against him in a way he hadn’t been brave enough to before. They’d talked every day the last two weeks, and he’d realized they really had hit the turning point. The songs weren’t slow, so his chest was against her back as his hand splayed over her stomach as they swayed. Both their voices were off key as they sang along to each song with the rest of the guests on the floor. Nick and Amanda were wrapped up in each other, and Olivia and Rafael seemed perfectly entertained, so he didn’t feel bad slipping out after a couple hours. 

“I know you two. Go ahead and dip. You stayed for all the important parts,” Bella had grinned, bumping Victoria’s hip with her own. “I’m the only sober one here, so this is gonna wrap up earlier than anyone realizes. Baby and I gotta sleep.”

“You sure?” 

“Positive, Tor.” That was all it took for Sonny to lace their fingers, duck out of the venue, and start the couple of blocks to their hotel. At first, she wore the heels and walked,  but he quickly realized it was the shoes, not the wine, making her unsteady.

“That’s it,” he said, squatting in his suit. “Hop on.”

“My bag’s heavy.”

“I can handle it, babe.”

“You sure?”

“You don’t hop on, we’re going spider monkey front carry, and we both know that always ends in me tripping more.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and Sonny held her thighs, careful to keep the fabric under his palms to save her some modesty. When they were outside the room, she slipped the key from his breast pocket, helping him push the door open before he dropped her on the bed. 

“Thank you,” she sighed, toeing the pumps off and letting them fall. 

“Glad to be of service.” A little salute as he started to strip out of the suit and hang it. “Thanks for always ditching early for pajamas with me.”

“Glad to be of service.” She hung the dress and tucked the strapless bra away, and when Sonny turned from the closet, he saw her in the oversized sweatshirt again as she pulled the blankets back on the bed. He hadn’t bothered for two. They’d had that option every time but hadn’t used it when they were fighting. 

“Comfy?” He ran a hand through his hair, breaking up the gel before flopping beside her.

“Very.”

“It’s literally nine o’clock. Are we old, Tor?”

“Old? No. Codependent? Maybe.”

“We been living apart a year and a half. Maybe we’re just a clique.”

“Very true. We’re like if the plastics were millennials who had been married a decade.”

“We should write that script.”

“Forget law school. Teen movie parodies based around our marriage.”

“Perfect. I’ll drop all my classes tomorrow.”

“I missed you. It’s been nice talking all the time.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, watching her with his cheek pressed to the pillow. 

“Regardless of if you’re ready to tell me, I wanna keep talking a lot.”

“I’m ready. I just was going to wait. Don’t wanna ruin our weekend.”

“I feel like you’re going to tell me and realize I don’t care as much as you thought. Unless you fucked somebody.”

“First, last, and only, Tor.” He rolled onto his back, taking a deep breath, and Victoria knew him well enough to know this really was going to be the moment. She sat up, legs tucked beneath her. Leaning towards him a little, she put her hand on his chest and rubbed what she hoped were soothing circles as he put his hands behind his head. When he was nervous, Sonny talked to the ceiling, just needing her to anchor him.

“Just trust me, okay?”

“I trust you, vita mia,” he murmured, and that particular Italian term of endearment let her know it was really happening. “You remember when my hours changed? End of 2011. Became a detective. Acted funny when you took me upstate. A year before I fucked up and forgot your birthday bakery combo dinner.”

“Of course.”

“I was working homicide.”

“Okay?”

“It really fucked me up, Tor. What I seen, it was so bad. The women. There were so many women, and they’d be so pristine. One of them was in a fuckin’ dumpster even. But he took all the time to give her a bath and do her make up and get her dressed. And you know what that always told me?”

“What?” she whispered, taking the hand that went from behind his head to rest on top of hers.

“It was their husband or boyfriend. The person who they trusted. And their faces were so peaceful, Victoria. They knew what was coming. And I’d go talk to people. You know what they’d say? They weren’t surprised. They’d seen it. They’d heard it. Those men hurt their wives and girlfriends. Took advantage of the fact they trusted and loved them. I started seeing you when I saw them, Tor.”

“Sonny,” she whispered, hating the way his voice sounded. It was thick with emotion, and he’d closed his eyes. She was well aware that if he opened them, they’d be rimmed red and tears would be falling. “This is what you couldn’t tell me?”

“You’re so proud of me. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I couldn’t sleep and it hurt so badly. I’d wake up freaking because I thought it was you. I’d never hurt you, but my brain just- I don’t know. And then you’re so good. You deal with cakes and fondant and cannoli and things that make people happy. I was so scared that if I talked about it, it would blot out the light in you. I felt like the only light I had was you. I think I pulled away because of that and it snowballed. When it got so bad, the last six months? It got to the point I thought all that darkness and the stuff I was seeing and the stuff my brain was picturing would- fuck- leak into you through osmosis or something. When I wanted to tell you, my brain would just change the words I wanted to say.”

“Sonny, I didn’t know it was like that,” she murmured. 

“You couldn’t have known. I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I should have figured it out.”

“Don’t do that, doll. If you’re willing to trust me to tell you moving forward, I just want to move forward.”

“I shouldn’t have left, Dominick. You were hurting, and I just abandoned you.”

“I was depressed. I should have told you or talked to someone. Being depressed doesn’t make it okay to neglect you. I need to take care of myself.”

“And I should have stuck with you. Figured out the why.”

“You did though. I’ve known that I can come to you for the last two years. I just couldn’t get past myself. Doc’s been working through it with me. Says I gotta learn that dad bottling it up wasn’t good. It works better for him and ma because she couldn’t read him when they met. I never had to tell you so I didn’t know how. And then dad doesn’t believe in men sharing their feelings. It’s easy to ignore that for the good feelings. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t tough enough.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you how I was feeling. I knew you saw dark stuff and I was scared to make it worse. I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Are we okay?” His voice was almost pleading, barely a whisper as his eyes finally opened to look at her. She laid against him, cupping his cheek as his hand flew to rest on hers. They were both crying, and she hated it. She hated to know that it was such a stupid miscommunication. If she’d pressed on it, taken guesses, asked around, maybe she could’ve helped him not hurt. This new squad seemed good for him, and therapy was helping. She probably needed to address their relationship more in therapy, learn how to ask for what she needed. They had to an extent, helping her hold out as long as she had for him to open up.

“We’re okay, Sonny. I’m so proud of you.” She was nudging his nose with her own, not dropping his gaze. 

“Thank you for being so patient.”

“I’d have waited for ya forever. First, last, and only, Sonny.”

“Come home.”

“We gotta consolidate now,” she teased gently. “But I’ll come home.”

“It’s in Brooklyn now. You’ll like it. I didn’t even get rid of that stupid dog statue.”

“He’s a very important dog statue.” 

“I love you, you weirdo.”

“I love you too, nerd.” He missed laughing with her, even when they were both crying. The relief that flooded him was suddenly exhausting. Not telling her had been heavy on him for a long time, but he didn’t expect his body’s physical response to the openness. He felt like he did before he went on this pointless journey to hide the bad parts of his field from her. She knew what he did. She kissed him, slow and sweet and loving, and Sonny’s arms snaked around her. They’d kissed plenty since she left, but there was always a hesitance behind it. Unsureness around their status. Now, he was kissing his wife, not his estranged wife. Even if it took time, they were working towards her coming back home. They hadn’t had sex since their ill fated first run in post separation. It was slow and sentimental, and afterwards, he had a half second of panic she’d disappear. Instead of pulling away like his gut wanted, he curled around her frame, nuzzled into the crook of his neck. 

“I missed that,” he murmured. 

“Me too.” She rested her hand on his, and he could feel that she was smiling in how her cheeks moved. He felt greedy, wanting to feel every bit of her skin he was able to before he fell asleep. When he woke to find her still there, he was relieved, and even better, she’d twisted in the night, leg hooked over his hip and her chest pressed to his. They’d spent most of the night talking or tangled together, so they’d slept in until ten o’clock. He checked his phone to be sure everyone had made it through the night before. Once he reminded his mom he was spending the weekend and really wouldn’t be at Sunday dinner, he settled back in to watching her. After a while, she started to stir, pulling him closer. She’d been right, everything had changed once he told her. He didn’t feel like he had to keep any space between them.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, and she stretched her arms over her head.

“Heya, handsome.” She pressed a kiss to his lips, and it took all his attention not to take her again. He’d made plans for the day, and he was determined to stick to them. Even if they hadn't reconciled, she was a sucker for the beach, even when it was cold, so he’d planned to take her to lunch, take her to get her nails done, and take her to walk the little shops he’d found. It would make her smile, and he’d missed the little trips they’d taken before. Other than going to the cabin, something she’d planned, it had been years between work and school and money. For their tenth anniversary, he was already planning, even though there was just over a year to plan. He wanted to take her back to New Orleans, just the pair of them together now and no disappointment on her part that her mom was there but ignoring her. 

“I planned a day for us.” His hands trailed her spine, and he realized something else had shifted since he told her the reality. While he thought it wasn’t possible, he felt even closer to her. The men in his family, though well intentioned, had always told him it would be viewed as weaker to share his emotional world with anyone. They thought it was a little girly for him to be as sappy with her as he tended to be, tearing up at weddings and when he talked about how proud of her he was. But the bad things? Those were weaknesses that would drive her away. The realization that the depression and inability to separate work from her didn’t scare her off made him realize that letting her see it wasn’t going to break them. Hell, it seemed to bring her closer.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Lunch on the beach. Little walk on the beach after. Manicure- I know you, Tor. Don’t try to say you got one for Bella’s weddin. You love them but won’t take yourself ever- and then we can walk around some of the little shops and stuff.”

“That sounds like a real romantic day, Dom.”

“What can I say? I learned my lesson about not being romantic.”

“I’m excited to come home.”

“Me too, Tor.”

Tag: @cycat4077 @fear-less-write-more

[the-lincyclopedia]

For the fic asks: 3, 8, and 23

3. What's been your most popular fic this year?

I hadn't looked at this year's statistics in a while, and apparently it's "Crisis Mode," by a pretty big margin, if we're going by hits (and it did well, though not necessarily best, by the other metrics as well). I barely remember writing that one, to be honest, and it's 7k, so not long, but not super short, either. I looked back in my Google Docs, and apparently it took three weeks from beginning to end, but basically I wrote a page, left it to sit, and then two weeks later picked it back up and wrote 17 more pages in four days. Huh.

Oh, in case you're wondering whether you want to read the fic, here's the summary: Bitty gets disowned during Jack’s 2015 trip to Madison. Jack tries his best to take care of him. This whole fic is from Jack’s POV and takes place over the course of 24 hours. (It's also my only fic in years to inspire a spin-off. Like, the last time I had spin-offs, it was 2014 or so and I was on FFN.)

8. What mood has been most prevalent in your works this year? Ex. angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, etc.

Okay, I don't entirely know how to answer this question--I think I'm usually a pretty fluffy writer, though I definitely also do angst and hurt/comfort, maybe more so this year, so instead of directly answering the question, I'm going to name some themes that came up multiple times:

Characters dealing with having bad parents: "A Few Things, Maybe Several Things" features a genderbent 18-year-old Jacqueline Zimmermann furious with her parents as her life falls apart; "Crisis Mode" features Bitty getting disowned; and "I Am Young and I Am Good" features Jack bailing Shitty out of a terrible family dinner, Chowder rescuing Dex from having to spend Christmas with the Poindexters, and Tango taking Whiskey out of church while he has a panic attack.

Trans characters: "who could ask to be unbroken (or be brave again)" is mostly a Zimbits fic, but it does feature nonbinary!Lardo; "You Won't Grow Out of It; You Will Find Clothes That Fit" is a Check Please/Harry Potter crossover where Ginny and Lardo are roommates at Samwell and both turn out to be nonbinary; "How to Buy a Binder, with Bitty and Lardo" is a ficlet featuring trans!Bitty and nonbinary!Lardo; "Hasty Technicolor" is a Shitty/Lardo fic where Lardo is nonbinary and Shitty is bisexual; and "Warmth" is a trans!Bitty fic.

Exes: I guess this is just two fics, but "Endings Come in Increments" is about Swoops helping Kent sort through his feelings about Jack and "Get It Right This Time" is about Kent and Whiskey getting back together (based on "This One Thing Is Always Supposed to Stay" by rickyisms).

23. What fic did you enjoy writing the most?

Okay, I thought this was going to be a hard choice, because I have so much fun writing Zimbits and I've written them a bunch, but then I looked back at my fics from the last year and it actually wasn't that hard to figure out. See, getting to nerd out about Swedish is quite possibly my favorite thing, or at least it has the highest enjoyment-to-frequency ratio in my life, just because the opportunity so rarely presents itself.

For that reason, my favorite fic to write was probably "Miscommunication: Swedish Edition." This fic has lots of fun things: Linguistics nerdery! Background Nurseydex with some smooth, smooth dialogue! An annoying Minnesotan frog! (If anyone likes how I write Louis, "Five Times Lukas Was Homesick Plus One Time He Didn't Have to Be" has a similar vibe.)

Get in on the ask game!

[nullanythorm-ao3]

Ours by Taylor Swift & Adult Variro Headcanons

Okay so I’ve been sitting on a TISE update for forever and I AM making progress on it - but I need to talk about this because I think I’ve found what is the quintessential Variro song (that isn’t a Disney song - we’ll talk about that one later). And as much as I want to focus on fanfiction, this thing has been driving me crazy. 

So, in case you want to listen before reading: this sentence will be linked to the song

Let’s talk about Ours by Taylor Swift, and how I think it perfectly fits my OTP as an adult relationship - and in some parts works even as their relationship is beginning. 

A couple things to know before we get started: 

This is centered around the idea of a modern AU, it could work in other aspects, but it’s what I think about when I listen to it

Varian was a villain, before falling for Hiro in his mid-late teens (15-18) and their relationship started up

That being said - let’s get into this song and unpack how I feel its lyrics perfectly encapsulate everything I love about these two little science nerds. 

Elevator Buttons and Morning Air Strangers’ silence makes me want to take the stairs If you were here we’d laugh about their vacant stares But right now, my time is theirs

So, being adults now, I imagine the two of them both have pretty stable jobs being boy geniuses. Hiro probably works with Krei at some company (I like the idea of them partnering and giving Krei Tech a makeover into a business called Hamada & Krei, where Hiro tends to reign in Krei’s lackadaisical approach to his technology by being a super stern head of R&D), and Varian I picture working in biotech and chemical engineering - especially in the medical field (i imagine part of what lead him to villainy was Quirin contracting someone that he was desperate to cure). 

Varian, being socially awkward, isn’t really good with people when it comes to his job. Especially since I feel like his identity as a villain would have been revealed to the public at some point along his redemption, so the general populace would probably still be pretty judgmental about him. He doesn’t like dealing with them, but he and Hiro usually just laugh it off when they’re together. Varian still struggles with it on his own though - especially at work and meetings and the like. 

Seems like there’s always someone who disapproves They’ll judge it like they know about me and you And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do  The jury’s out, my choice is you

This is one of a couple areas of this songs that reads like a small conversation between the two. The first two lines being Varian, and the second two being Hiro. 

Now, this is the interesting bit. My personal headcanon is that Hiro and BH6 wind up going all Tony Stark/Iron Man at some point and reveals their identity. Even if the entirety of BH6 doesn’t reveal themselves, I definitely think Hiro would, especially in being involved in a multi-million dollar tech business and partnered (in business) with one of the most famous and influential men in the city, if not the world - on top of being a boy genius. I think the stress of all that AND being a superhero would kind of get to him, so he just kind of reveals it at some point. 

Even if he doesn’t - I think all that positive attention on him would definitely contrast all the negative attention on Varian as a former villain whose identity would have definitely been revealed. As such, their relationship would definitely be judged by a lot of the people around them, save for their closer friends. By the way, no, Varian doesn’t join Big Hero in this universe. Think of him more as an occasional “guy in the chair” who helps direct them or give them alibis at times, but is never directly involved in the crime fighting. He’s just support. He’d be too affected by all the negative attention, I think, and wouldn’t want to draw any more to himself when so many people are already judging his and Hiro’s relationship. 

But of course, Hiro only has eyes for Varian. He always reassures him that there’s no need to pay attention to people with enough free time to worry about who someone’s dating. He loves his little raccoon just the way he is, and wouldn’t trade Varian for the world. 

So don’t you worry your pretty little mind  People throw rocks at things that shine And life makes love look hard  The stakes are high, the water’s rough  But this love is ours

THE CHORUS. OHMYGOD THE ChORUS.

It’s just. SO perfect. For these two. Starting off with “Don’t you worry your pretty little mind”. Ohmygod. That sounds so much like something they’d say to each other. Yes, they’re both considered very attractive and have pretty faces, but that’s not what’s important to them. It’s their minds. They connect to each other because they’re both boy geniuses with cutting with and quick, casual tongues. They’re the only people who can keep up with each other in conversation, and that just kind of lead them to wind up together. Their minds are so connected and linked together that it’s all they see in each other, more than anything else. 

And of course, they have a pretty rough, rocky relationship. Between the reveal of Varian being a villain, his subsequent decision to fall for Hiro and redeem himself, and the judgement they both get from others for their decision to love each other - “the stakes are high, the water’s rough” definitely fits. No matter how many stones get thrown at them and how hard their relationship is at times because of outside influence, however - 

They love each other, and they work together and overcome everything that comes their way. I love this chorus so much. However, as it’s repeated throughout the song a bunch and this post is already incredibly long, this will be the only time it’s brought up in this post until the end.~ \

You never know what people have up their sleeves Ghosts from your past gonna jump out at me Lurking in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles But I don’t care, ‘cause right now you’re mine 

And you’ll say

So I don’t think I need to say much about this stanza here - but I will anyway because that’s what this is all about. 

So, naturally, this is all Hiro to Varian. He had quite a history, and Hiro always learns like he’s learning something knew about his boyfriend and his stint as a villain. From having been arrested in his own home town for thievery and other acts against the mayor’s family (Frederic) for not working on or accepting his own ideas on research for a cure for whatever - having to help him come to terms with all the people he’s wronged in the past as well as all of San Fransokyo. Varian’s got a deep history. 

There always seems to be something new just around the corner, out of view, ready to pop out at him. But it doesn’t bother him, because they belong to each other, belong together. Varian’s his, and he’s Varian’s, and he’ll do whatever it takes to help sort things out. And no matter how much the people from Varian’s past may even judge Hiro, not knowing him, for being involved with him, Varian will always be there for him, just like he’s always there for Varian - 

this stanza leads into the chorus, so let’s move  right on to the next part. 

And it’s not theirs to speculate if it’s wrong and  Your hands are tough but they are where mine belong and  I’ll fight their doubt and give you faith  With this song for you

If the last stanza was all Hiro, this one is all Varian. He’s a bit more snippy with the people who judge their relationship than Hiro is. Of course he is, it’s Varian. He’ll flat out tell people they have no business meddling in their affairs while Hiro will mostly just ignore it and reassure Varian that he doesn’t need to bother them. He gets tired of people saying that he and Hiro, a villain and a hero (whether actual revealed super hero or just “local hero”), don’t belong together. 

Still he loves Hiro and knows the two of them are meant together. “Your hands are tough” are more than likely a reference to the fact that Hiro’s hands probably get pretty calloused working on machines and technology and stuff all day as compared to Varian’s delicate chemistry hands.~ I like to headcanon that Varian has a slimmer build while Varian is not necessarily as muscular as Wasabi, but still not as much of a “twink” as Varian when he grows up (or Tadashi, despite their being brothers and genetically linked). 

And of course - Varian can sing. It’s always canon. No matter what. And I just see him kind of soothing Hiro’s nerves from time to time or them just relaxing together and him singing for him. It’s a fun little touch I wanted to add for the “song for you” bit.

Cause I love the gap between your teeth And I love the riddles that you speak And any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos  Will be ignored, 'cause my heart is yours

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

So while I love the ENTIRETY of this song for Variro, and you saw how much I freaked out over this chorus. This part. This part here was one of the parts I was most looking forward to writing out. 

This is another one of those stanzas 

So “I love the gap between your teeth” - Hiro has a gap tooth. Varian loves it. End of story. Simple. I think they’d both keep their tooth problems (gap tooth for hero and buckteeth for Varian) into adulthood, but they might be a tiny bit less pronounced. 

“and I love the riddles that you speak” is read so well as Hiro’s response to it. Because, again, Varian does tend to be a little more smooth-tongued and speak in riddles when he’s not being snippy, as compared to the more blunt and straightforward Hiro. It drives him crazy sometimes, but it’s fun for him to play those word games with him, and he loves Varian despite how difficult he can be at times. 

Now, let’s talk about the big boy here “Any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos will be ignored, ‘cause my heart is yours”.  HIRO. GETS. TATTOOS. 

I think they’re mostly out of love for aunt Cass and the Lucky Cat. A calico cat and a bunch of showy, japanese-style tattoos. I don’t know of what exactly, but the calico cat is the big one - symbolic of the Lucky Cat and Mochi. While he’s serious and stern at work, he has a reputation for being casual, and never really grows out of that rebellious, punk atmosphere. Ripped jeans, leather jackets, probably rides a motorcycle. Sometimes it’s hard for people to see through that. And I definitely think that when Quirin first meets Hiro (he gets CURED of whatever he contracts! Thanks to Varian! He’s fine!) he kind of has a hard time seeing through it at first. I don’t think he likes Hiro much until he sees what a good match for Varian he is - he comes around eventually. 

And I lvoe the contrasted idea of Hiro coming off as rebellious and a punk and having a bit of a temper. However, he’s actually super sweet and a teddy bear underneath, always wanting to do what’s best for others. Meanwhile, Varian is kind of spindly with long limbs. He dresses in modest clothes - either sweaters or lots of button ups and vests. He gives off the impression of a perfect angel visibly, but his tongue is sharp and he’s more devilish than his appearance lets on. It’s. Synergy. And.  I love it. 

So after that it goes into one last chorus but it adds an extra line in there about

“They Can’t Take What’s Ours”

Which I think is a great addition for the end. Basically them saying they love each other. And no matter what people say, or how much criticism they get for dating, they love each other and no one can take that away from them. The people who are really important will always be there to support them, and that’s all that matters. 

Anyway that’s enough of me making an obsessively long post over a song no one probably listens to that just kind of got me all excited over my OTP. I’ll properly focus on fanfiction updates now. Thanks for anyone who read this beast 

[painted-crow]

Submission time #19

so i’ve been spending the last little bit unburning my lion primary. now i’m sort of lost on secondary? i suspect i have bird in there somewhere but i’m having a hard time separating my natural secondary and a model that i really like and find helpful. (or maybe it’s the now-surprisingly-loud lion primary drive for authenticity coming through?) so if it’s okay with you, i’ll take a crack at some of the quiz questions and see if there’s anything of note? spacing might be weird—i’m on mobile :/

Sure thing!

When you succeed, how influential in that success were the people around you?

my answer to this one depends on the day. yes, they’re extremely influential; no, i don’t always like it. not because i don’t appreciate or need the help but because it got into my head in a funny way growing up. i’ve always been tremendously lucky to have people who love and want to help me, but like... it gets to the point where it feels like i’m nothing on my own. how much of this is a favour? what do i owe you? are you just trying to spare my feelings or because i’m related to someone else? i’m desperate to be able to say (and believe) that i’ve done something for myself on my own terms.

Ooh, okay. So, you've maybe got some caretaker Badgers around you, but that's not you--you don't really value this in yourself, even if it's how the community around you works. If you have any Badger secondary, it's anxious.

Do people consider you charismatic?

charisma is SUCH a concept. it gives off such an animal magnetism, face of the revolution vibe, which is not me at all. i have to work hard to be nice bc most people deserve the benefit of the doubt (as i repress the instinct to be judgy and mean LMAO) and also bc it just works better socially? flies and honey and all that. i also have very specific ways of being nice: “mom friend” and “hypercompetent rookie in line of succession” and “spicy and nonjudgmental confidante” which, granted, are already all parts of my personality just emphasized for clarity. i think of it like... personality colour correction, or... code-switching i guess.

You've literally just described Actor Bird. Also, you're not very nice when you describe yourself, are you?

people tend to like me more than i like me, though, and it catches me a little by surprise every time. maybe it’s just because i live in my own head and it’s a lot quieter and more anxious up here. it does suck a little, suddenly being worried that like “ooh ppl only like what u show them but that’s not how u rlly are”

Lions (primary or secondary) and Actor Bird can really clash... it sounds like you're discovering that your primary doesn't like this tactic as it unburns. Also, I think Bird masks just take a lot of energy if used long term. That might be me though.

so i’ll Sprinkle In Some Light Trauma to gauge the reaction (and regret it immediately). the truth is that not many people make it past the social utility part of friendship and so i don’t rlly... feel safe? putting down the masks which are designed to smooth interactions in any case. (so i guess YES but actually no i’m charismatic but also that’s a very different public facing side)

Yeah, this is all Actor Bird so far. Also, hugs.

Do you like going into situations with a plan?

mmm. i don’t think i plan so much as i attempt to see into the future and force my best outcome. i HATE going in blind—if i can a way around something, i will, but if i can’t it has to at least be a good and sensible attempt. most of the plans i usually put together have coping-mechanism, doodling while on a phone call energy: too granular to ever implement, just something to put order to the things you’re thinking.

This is still lots of Bird energy. Plans don't always look the same, you know? And some of us barely use 'em at all.

like, i do have all my degree requirements and preferred classes listed out, because that’s important and i should have that sorted out correctly before declaring my major. but the hour by hour daily schedule is more of a thing to make me feel in control and like i’ve put the work into considering it.

i’m also a stereotypical nerd: i have an english/history brain, i write a lot, i fall down personality inventory rabbit holes for fun, i pick up random things that end up relevant years later, nothing was as distressing as not being able to read for fun bc university was just Too Much—you know the drill.

I do, but not everyone is like this. You're probably a Bird, and I wonder if you're taking your secondary for granted because you feel like it's expected of you.

but for someone who plans as a coping mechanism, it’s also sometimes the best way to put me off. like i don’t know, being friends, which is the only thing in my life where traditional overthinking would RUIN it absolutely.

i know someone who semi-despairingly refers to herself as machiavellian because she interacts with people like it’s 4D chess.

Huh, so your friends don't talk about themselves very nicely either.

collects info, reshapes her entire personality into something designed to appeal to whoever she’s talking to. i tried not to get into motive bc socializing really is like That sometimes, but i couldn’t imagine pulling that off. i talk big game about acting a certain way, but only in ways that are already part of me yk? if i couldn’t believe i was being legit in some way i’m like 97% sure it would show through somehow and make it real weird.

You're still on Actor Bird. Your friend might have a Snake model? but you're an Actor Bird.

How do you feel about shortcuts?

work smart not hard, she says, working hard anyway bc she needs to see all the little things fall into place just to make sure that they do.

seriously though, that is for “important enough” things: i need to see it done to standard. i can rest only with a job well done kind of thing—due diligence so that any tomfoolery that goes down isn’t my fault and therefore no one can get mad at me.

This might be a Badger model, and I'm gonna take a shot in the dark and say you picked this up from your community because it's what they expect of you. You don't seem to take any joy in it, though; it seems like an anxious response.

also i have beef with the idea of being gullible, so i’m gonna see it with my OWN EYES. for less important things, it’s a heart says yes mind says no situation. i love the shortcut that saves time and effort but keeps the quality, which is plentiful when it’s like. pasta sauce, but not when it’s like. the Donner party heading to california. i would love to shorten that stuff, but the consequences of a poorly done shortcut are more painful than the slog.

Bird modeling Badger. Yep.

Do you feel the need to keep the peace?

(it didn’t come up on this run of the quiz but i’ve been mulling over for a while!)

Huh. This question doesn't always come up? I always get it. I have to assume it's the quiz checking for Badger.

i’ve got a fairly bad temper and a transparent face. so no—i’m not much for keeping the peace. i can do it properly if compelled, but it’s exhausting and irritating and only really makes me resentful of the emotional labour.

Whether you can keep the peace is kind of separate from whether you feel you should, but you also really dislike being in that role. You're modeling some Bookkeeper Badger, which doesn't actually make you happy, and you really don't seem to like using Courtier for anything.

does it bother me when people fight? yeah, like most people do when it’s a rift-causing argument in a group they care strongly about, but if i’m not more loyal to one side of the dispute i’m much more likely to take out all the parties and have done with it. i’ve been known to fight back or even start stuff if the cause is important enough, or i have spleen to vent, but i’m a very messy arguer so staying out of it and collecting receipts in the background is much more my style.

Wonder if you've got some Lion secondary hiding out in your Houses. You don't like going into things unprepared, but maybe there's a Lion model you could be nurturing that would make you happier than that Badger mess that's been pushed on you.

anyway. this was long. made me think harder about badger than i thought. lots of feelings, but def not as sad as the ones i typed up and deleted ages ago which i elect to count as progress. thanks for making it this far hahahah

Yay! Progress!

Yeah, I don't think you're a Badger. It really doesn't make you happy. You sound like a Bird to me: actor Bird, rapid fire Bird, but not Badger. Not Snake, either; if you're a rapid fire or actor Bird (or both) you might mis-Sort yourself into Snake, but I'm not getting that from you.

--Paint