#proof that tagging stuff really does work for visibility

[littledreamling]

there’s nothing quite like making a post that fades into obscurity almost instantly, only for it to start gaining traction months later

makes me wonder which popular/high follower count blog reblogged it

[murphy-kitt]

Ectoberhaunt Day 9 - Fall

Word Count: 1,619

Part 2 to red in tooth and claw (that’s your fatal flaw)

AO3

Tags: Angst, Death Aftermath, Blood & Injury

Wes deals with the aftermath of Danny’s death.

The past few days feel like they’ve thrown his whole mindset into a paradigm shift. He doesn’t even know where to begin.

Wes does know where it ended.

And that was with Danny Fenton lying battered and bleeding on the floor of Caspar High. His last moments spent as a some sort of real life screenplay, something to gawk at.

Even in second death Danny Fenton got no dignity. And Wes had been part of that crowd.

Danny Fenton was infuriating. Flaunting his secret about, knowing that no one would ever believe Wes.

At first it’d been sheer shock, and incredulity, Wes thinks. That he’d found out Fenton was a ghost and needed to tell someone. And then eventually overtime, Fenton became aware of his knowledge. And the bastard had taunted him.

All his money wasted on cameras, to get proof of what? The pride had been too much.

He stares at his corkboard pinned up on his wall, once his pride and joy, something with hours of dedication. And now where’s all that work come too?

Danny Fenton is dead, at the hands of his own parents.

He doesn’t know how they’re coping, doesn’t really want to. Probably saying that the Phantom had ‘taken over their son’ or the likely. Absolve themselves of blame.

At least Wes isn’t afraid to admit he’s part of this whole mess. Okay, he wasn’t the one to go and lure Phantom with a blob ghost and watch him bleed out.

But he had been the one to spur the theories around Caspar High, even if no one believed him. He’d been the one to not consider the implications or even sheer thought of the Fenton’s actually putting Danny at risk.

And even then, that’s ridiculous. Of course the senior Fentons would do that. Their house is a minefield, for God’s sake. One stakeout with a camera and Fenton’s quippy comments about the kitchen cupboards having ghost lasers had taught him that.

”Wesley, breakfast!” His dad shouts, voice reverberating through the walls.

Admittedly, Wes hasn’t had much of an appetite. Seeing someone bleed out will do that, even if you don’t (didn’t?) like them.

Sure, he’d seen Fenton get injured multiple times. But he’d always picked himself back up and continued on.

“Coming!” He drags himself from being fixated on the corkboard, opens his bedroom door and heads downstairs.

Breakfast is an anaemic slice of toast—barely brown enough it’s still bread—and a mug of green tea.

”To settle your stomach. Something light.” His dad states, sitting at the table opposite his chair.

”Literally light.” Wes quips, picking up the toast by the corners, which sags slightly. “But thanks, dad.”

“How are you..holding up?” His Dad edges awkwardly, not making eye contact. Things between them have never been emotionally open, so the room is thick with tension.

Wes only shrugs. How does he even begin to voice the past few days? His dad knew about the whole situation with Fenton, his conspiracies, the lot. Hard not to when the school would constantly be ringing him about Wes’ behaviour.

”I don’t know where to start.” He finally says.

”I thought you’d stopped with all that…stuff. There was nothing new on your corkboard for ages. And the next thing I know, you’re the key witness to what occurred in that corridor?” Walter straightens up, folding his arms.

Well I was right in the end, wasn’t I? The thought is petty, and Wes pushes it back. This matter never was about being right or wrong, never was about winning. In his eyes, sure, he’d seen it that way.

To Danny, it was simply survival.

”I did.” Wes lies.

A hidden corkboard under the bed. Extra notepads stuffed in his backpack. Developed pictures slipped under the mattress. He just hadn’t made it visibly obvious when the school had started catching on and prevented him.

”Okay.” His dad finally responds, scanning his face intently. “To have seen that…must’ve been difficult.”

He tenses. Even as much as his mind is consumed with the whole…scene. He’s not considered it that way.

”I don’t know.” Wes shrugs again. Now everything is tipped on its axis, uncertain. He crosses his arms, staring at the barely-eaten toast. “I mean, yeah, it’s all I’ve thought about. But not like that. My mind’s thinking about his parents, all the conspiracy stuff that I did. I’d thought they’d never hurt him. But seeing someone die? Bleed out right infront of me, even if I thought he was annoying? I don’t think I’ve process how fucked that is.”

His dad barely even reacts to the swearing, straightening up in his chair, reaching his arms over the table to lean closer.

“You’ve always been too far ahead of yourself, Wes. Even just when you were little, wanting to investigate everything.” His dad finally says, voice weary. “And this time, you got so caught up that I think you forgot why you were doing it. Or what the impacts would be. How many times has that school called me in the past year?”

Well, you won’t be getting phone calls anymore.

The whole time he’d pushed and pushed to be believed. And now everyone knows. He’s always imagined the day where his proof would be concrete enough to feel believed. Satisfied, vindicated, no longer mocked for being a conspiracy freak.

But now, all Wes feels is empty. A nauseating void of being right.

“That’s not—“ his voice falters, and he averts his gaze to the toast, pushing it away. “I didn’t mean for it to get this far. I didn’t actually think his parents would hurt him.”

“You didn’t think at all! You got so obsessed with proving something, you didn’t stop to think if the point even mattered.” Walter sighs, looking weary.

His chest tightens. It does matter. He’s not thrown his life at months of research for nothing. Fenton had been lying to everyone for months—deceived Amity.

And why do you think that was? The Fenton’s proved it enough for you two days ago.

“It does matter.” He says, but his feeble tone betrays the doubt.

“I know you feel that way. I don’t expect that to change in two days when you were so… focused on this.” Walter drags a hand over his face. “The truth, though? Do you think that damn truth was worth Danny Fenton’s life?”

Wes doesn’t know what to say, bunching his shoulders by his ears. He usually feels sure, certain of himself. But now it’s much different. What can he say, he only wanted to expose Fenton, not get him killed? That he didn’t think it’d end like this?

Maybe that’s the problem. He’d never seen an ending in the relentless chase to expose Fenton. For validation.

“I thought—“ Wes mumbles, “I thought if I could prove I was right then everyone would listen. That I wasn’t crazy.”

“Son.” Wes feels his dad’s hands squeeze his, tone softening. “There’s no satisfaction in being right about this.”

Wes’ heart plummets to his chest, and he stares at the beige wood of the table, unable to make eye contact. Being right had been the ultimate goal, but it fixed nothing. It hasn’t changed that fact that Danny is gone. That Wes had witnessed him bleeding out. That he’d played a part, even if it was a tiny drop of ectoplasm compared to the bloodbath the Fentons caused.

First it’s the ectoplasm pooling underneath Danny.

His skin is pale, too pale for a ghost. The way his body twitches slightly, his eyes bleary, tone slurred.

And then the green turns red. It shouldn’t do that—not when he’s a ghost. But it doesn’t stop. And then the halo of light ignites, and everyone knows.

But there’s no quip from Danny Fenton, no stupid smirk or witty remark. Just silence. Just the blood.

A sob catches in Wes’ throat, he splutters. Sour bile threatens to rise in his throat, his stomach queasy.

The chair creaks as his dad stands up, awkwardly hovering besides Wes. A reassuring squeeze on the shoulder is what he gets.

”You’re not a bad kid, Wes. I love you, and I always will. You saw something horrific. You got too carried away with the conspiring, but I think that’s a lesson strictly learnt now.” His dad murmurs, grimacing.

Wes only nods, edging away from the contact on his shoulder. His dad gets the jist, and sidles out the kitchen.

This entire year, Wes had prided himself on being the one who knew Danny’s secret. Better than everyone else who was oblivious and saw his claims as ridiculous.

All the months he’d built up, “knowing” Danny better. And yet, in the face of Danny’s death he’d been a bystander just the same as everyone else.

He badly stifles another sob, eyes stinging. Fenton hadn’t deserved that, didn’t deserve killed by his own parents nor his secret stripped in the process.

Wes had just stood there by the lockers, frozen, and watched. Done nothing. For all the dedication he’d put into investigating Fenton, in the end he hadn’t even twitched a muscle to act.

He remembers beforehand. Fenton taunting him, the stupid smile. That was who Fenton had been. Aloof, weirdly obsessed with space, well-meaning. Moonlighting as a superhero all the while. His grades in the gutter, sleep deprived to hell. Sacrificing everything.

And Wes had plundered through, determined to get his closure. But now, there’s nothing.

The realisation hits him like him like that damned ectogun. Dead. Never coming back again.

For the first time since he witnessed Danny Fenton bleed to death in the school hallway, Wes puts his head in his hands and sobs.

[longdeadking]

hold on i have more to say. first of all putting my rage thoughts from the tags here: i think gorgug couldnt be with a non barbarian because of how barbarians as a whole, and gorgug specifically as an autistic and anxious kid who is told that his emorions are Too Much, approach anger. cause barbarians use rage as a way to get better at hurting people and thats Scary to non barbarians who might have trouble understanding any motivarions deeper than that. and gorgug especially is only just now learning how to express his anger because his parents, again unintentionally, were really hesitant to let him cultivate that (out of the same fear i just mentioned). so being with a non barbarian would Not be good for gorgug, but mary ann is so forthright and unashamed about her rage (something thats very different about her compared to zelda, who was experiencing the same pushback that gorgug was, the idea that her rage was "too intense" and had to be hidden and dampened instead of controlled and shaped into a tool) and that lack of fear of her own anger is what gorgug needs. the other bad kids are very good about letting gorgug get mad (esp fig!) but as non barbarians they just dont Get it on the same level mary ann does.

and furthermore! i think mary ann will force gorgug to confront his own autistic traits by being so obviously "weird," something that gorgug has been avoiding and one of the biggest reasons that he hated mary ann so much at first. i think some of the hatred and aggresion gorgug showed (think "this freak thinks its mango soda") was because he felt almost envious of mary ann's ability to shake off any criticism or judgement of her behavior in a way that he just cant (a result of his anxiety, something that mary ann definetly didnt have with the rage star and might not have at all). i think dating someone with very obvious autistic traits will help gorgug feel more comfortable not masking in public and around other people, since he doesnt have to worry about doing it alone, he has a cool tank girlfriend to beat up anyone whos mean to him. or on a more seriois note, its way less scary to be visibly autistc with another person, and its way easier to do when it feels like you're supporting them.

(mild d20 cast crit under the cut, but more thoughts below)

i wish wed gotten more characterization of mary ann, but unfortunately her Being Autistic led to the cast not really treating her like a full character with feelings about the events of the plot, so a lot of what we have to go off of is inferences or just making stuff up. not ideal, since id really love to talk about mary ann in all of this, how this relationship affects her, etc. so from this point on ill be making stuff up, thanks.

anyway. i think mary ann will benefit from dating another autistic person, since most of the other rat grinders were very unfriendly about that (being either neurotypical or kipperlily "high-functioning" copperkettle). gorgug isnt the kind of person to demand explanations for her actions and then get mad when she cant explain, and he can take things at face value without demanding proof.

i also think itll be nice for both of them to have someone they know they can infodump to without judgement or mean jokes, something that both the rat grinders and the bad kids are guilty of, even if they dont mean to be. mary ann and gorgug (once he works through some internalized ableism) are zero judgement, and thats great for them both.

i love autistic characters!! i love autistic relationships!!!!!! i love gorgug and mary ann so dearly!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and i think they are perfect for each other.

no actually i think mary ann will be great for gorgug bc like. no fault of the bad kids or the thistlesprings obv but they do put a lot of pressure on gorgug to be Normal (think the van scene and "lets put on the episode youre listening to" "im not listening to anything im just exhausted") (and sidenote Full Fault of porter for wanting gorgug to be Normal also) and i think mary ann just absolutely would not have ANY of those expectations and would probably Shut That Shit Down if gorgug DID try to Be Normal around her. and like zelda kind of had that about being quiet and not needing to be super high energy all the time but she also had expectations that gorgug couldnt meet about emotional investment and expression. and again no fault to her thats just how it is. but again mary ann just doesnt have that expectation. and thats something gorgug hasnt had before!

[olderthannetfic]

Do you know what the origin of the "sold to One Direction" thing is? I know it's a common trope (or was), but, I have no idea where I first heard of it, where I learned it was a thing. How do weird tropes like that get started, anyway? Why do some concepts take off and become huge parts of a particular fandom, but others don't? (And does this particular premise show up in other RPF contexts as much?)

--

tl;dr - Wattpad circa 2013, probably

--

I'm only familiar with that from doing Wattpad research. I don't think it's a major RPF thing, at least not under that exact name. Horny f!sub is kind of the Wattpad way, so a lot of the popular tropes there make sense from that perspective. I've definitely seen plenty of badtouch sexy slave/kidnapping victim/stalk-ee stuff with BTS and other music groups. But maybe somebody reading has more specific 1D history knowledge?

As for why one thing takes off and another doesn't, the big answer is:

Historical accident

We can look for patterns, sure, but a lot of it is ultimately survivorship bias. That's the thing where we look at what's remaining (successful companies, popular fic tropes), and we assume they have some special property that made them survivors and then extrapolate from that. But maybe it's coincidence, or maybe it's a different type of causality than the one we're looking at.

For example, a trope in a popular fandom will spread farther faster than a trope in a dinky little fandom, so maybe fandom size is what matters and not the nature of the trope. Most analyses assume it's the trope itself that matters.

On an individual basis, many specific tropes get popularized by a particular famous author or fic that other people imitate. Some get popularized by a fanworks exchange or fest. (That's how 5 Times fic spread.) But why do they stick around long term? Why do they gain traction elsewhere?

Aside from random chance, it's probably something to do with broad applicability and easy entry points.

So, for example, the show The Sentinel doesn't actually have Guides as such, but the AU added an official role for the other dude to make the two of them super destined. Sentinel AUs took off across a ton of fandoms. (Less so these days, but I've even seen them in BTS, so they're definitely not gone.) The AU version is basically soulmates + potentially codified top/bottom roles + superpowers. People like fantasy AUs. They like frameworks to fit their ship into. The trope isn't highly specific otherwise, so it can be tacked onto many settings, both real world and sff. It fits two-person ships easily, which is most popular ships. One can do some worldbuilding about whether there's One True Guide for a given Sentinel or whether the bond is more a matter of choice. Guides might be equal in numbers/prestige/public visibility to Sentinels or not. The existence of all this can be openly known by everybody or a secret like in the show.

A/B/O has a similar level of "proof my ship belongs together" stuff with room to play around with worldbuilding. It also overlaps heavily with prior popular tropes people like for pretty obvious horny reasons. Same with plenty of tropes. They're often a slight remix of already popular stuff.

Sense8 AUs, however, never really took off as a thing. I saw some fans sadfacing about this, but in this case, I think we could have predicted it. Why? Simple: the concept involves OT8, and that's not going to apply to most people's fandoms unless they happen to like a kpop group or a superhero team with 8 people. The 8 also don't have specific roles that would make this simpler to write. If you're going for less OT8 and more of a complicated network of relationships, that's a complicated story to write and it has much less of a template to work from. So low applicability + high barrier to entry.

Hogwarts AUs, on the other hand, are super popular. Why? My guess is that the biggest reason is that a million bajillion times more people know Harry Potter than know Sense8. Hogwarts also has some canned roles that are more obvious: which house is your Fave? Shit that could be in a clickbait-y personality quiz is easier to write fic about than something that requires you to make up everything yourself. But also, four houses are easy to keep track of in a way that all those Myers-Briggs types are not. Add too much mandatory complexity, and it gets too confusing.

--

If I had to guess about the popularity of Sold To One Direction, I'd say a lot of it is due to the problem of getting Mary Sue or y/n into the room with them. Why is she there? This fic concept provides the answer in one quick title or tag. Sexy slavefic and dubcon have had broad appeal since forever. There's room to go really dark or fluffier. Some of the fics are nothing but ravishment fantasies, while others are more abuse recovery stories (where 1D are better than whatever came before).

I don't think there's some simple answer for why this specific thing and not a closely related trope became such a known trope in 1D. Probably, if some BNF had posted a ravishment fantasy with a different pithy title at just the right time, some adjacent trope would be big instead.

As for why I've heard of this trope, it's absolutely due to 1D being a fucking massive fandom such that its popular tropes occur very frequently in a sample of Wattpad writing of the right eras. It definitely owes its lulzy memeticness to fandom size: lots of people care enough about 1D and 1D fic to know what the trends are and make jokes about them.

Here's Huffpo being dicks about 1D slavefic back in 2013. They don't mention the exact phrasing though. Here's a pretty standard specimen from 2013-14.

I presume this was also a big thing on Quizilla (RIP) and I see extant examples on Quotev. Sadly, these and Wattpad are fucking hard to study, and a lot of the meta-writing types stick to AO3, so I don't see as many good analyses of this part of fandom.

Any 1D fans want to weigh in?

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

mock the meat it feeds on

For the prompt: could you do geraskier "Don't you trust me?" / "You're not the one I don't trust..." with jaskier being jealous over/worried about triss? (in the books+games she does some manipulative stuff to be with geralt.)

I’ve only ever seen the show so I wasn’t too sure about the shady stuff regarding Triss and couldn’t find a simple explanation of it when I tried to look it up so I kinda took a different route because I really like show Triss so hopefully you still like it! Also on ao3!

And I’m gonna tag @roughentumble again!

In all the years that Jaskier has known Geralt, since that very first day in Posada, he's never known him to tolerate cities well, let alone actually enjoy them, which is why his sudden affinity for Novigrad is so vexing. Well, that and the reason for his newfound affinity.

Her name is Triss Merigold. She's a sorceress, of course, because Geralt apparently has a type and much to Jaskier's disappointment it's decidedly not talkative bards, and Jaskier trusts her about as much as he trusts a rabid dog.

The first time Jaskier meets her, he and Geralt are in Novigrad to replenish Geralt's dwindling supply of herbs and elixirs after a string of back-to-back contracts along the northern Redanian coast. They're searching for an apothecary, Geralt in the same foul mood he always slips into when they're forced into larger cities for whatever reason, his enhanced senses easily overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds and smells of the city, making him incredibly susceptible to sensory overload and the consequent migraines that followed.

Jaskier's done his best over the years to accommodate for Geralt's sensitivity, content with either avoiding large cities altogether when traveling with Geralt or taking it upon himself to venture into busy marketplaces or meet with aldermen while Geralt waited on the outskirts of the city. But buying food or delivering severed monster heads to aldermen was a far cry from collecting the necessary ingredients Geralt needed.

Geralt himself was a walking encyclopedia of flowers and herbs needed for his potions, but Jaskier only possessed a rudimentary understanding of them, garnered from explanations Geralt had supplied when Jaskier had sufficiently wheedled him enough for a herbology lesson. Making the potions used by witchers was a precise science; one wrong ingredient or combination of such could result in a potion meant to staunch bleeding instead thinning the blood and preventing clotting or an elixir meant to heal instead being little more than poison.

And Jaskier would rather Geralt not die because he confused puffball and sewant mushrooms.

With no other option and Geralt's supplies running dangerously low, too low for him to risk even thinking about taking another contract, Geralt's reluctantly accompanied Jaskier into Novigrad.

They initially avoid the main marketplace in favor of backstreets and narrow alleyways in search of a more niche apothecary, hedge witches or homeopaths selling their wares out of their small homes. But after finding three small-scale herbalists' inventory severely lacking, they're forced to head to Hierarch Square in the heart of the city where the crowds are busiest.

They're scanning the overwhelmingly busy Square with its many shops and storefronts and throngs of swarming shoppers for a larger apothecary when they stumble onto Triss.

She's standing outside of a three-story house right on the Square, dressed in resplendent orange robes the color of fresh tiger lilies and, unsurprisingly, marigolds. The color, and the bright midmorning sunshine, brings out the bronze and auburn notes in her thick brown hair and highlights the brilliant sage green of her eyes, even at a distance.

She's watering a row of plants in a red brick planter that Jaskier immediately recognizes as healing herbs, yarrow and nettle and chamomile, milk thistle and Echinacea. Affixed just above the door to the home she's standing in front of is a large sign advertising her expertise as a sorceress, specifically one specializing in healing magic.

Jaskier's torn quite evenly between relief at finding someone who should have all the herbs Geralt requires and immediate distrust. Neither of them have very good track records in regards to sorceresses. They tend to want nothing more than to bed Geralt and get him wrapped around their little finger and tend to despise Jaskier solely for the fact that he exists.

If Jaskier didn't know better he'd say they were jealous, his friendship with Geralt always outliving the witcher's whirlwind affairs with his sorceresses. But Jaskier does know better and it wouldn't do to believe such a foolish notion, to think that Geralt truly wanted him more than he did any of his past lovers.

Now, Jaskier bites the inside of his cheek, weighing their options, or rather the lack thereof, when he notices Geralt noticing the sorceress, his eyes lighting up with recognition. Without any further warning, he strides through the crowd of busy shoppers with Roach in tow to greet the sorceress with one of his rare half-smiles.

She returns Geralt's smile with a radiant one of her own and him into a quick hug, leaning up to peck him on the cheek. Jaskier can only watch dumbly, feeling like a knife has just been plunged into his heart, reopening old wounds along the way.

After a moment, Jaskier hurries after Geralt, weaving in between people who don't seem to acknowledge his existence, stomping on his toes and elbowing him in the ribs as he rushes over to Geralt. Triss greets Jaskier with a wide smile, more polite than he expects her to be as she introduces herself when Geralt fails to bother with proper introductions, leaning in to give Jaskier a hug of his own.

Brushing a few of her curls behind her ear, she invites them in for tea and quite generously offers to help replenish their supplies as much as she possibly can. They sit in her drawing room that's fragrant with sage and neroli, full of dried herbs and various crystals displayed on a shelf above the large fireplace, sipping the orange blossom tea she pours them in delicate porcelain teacups while she and Geralt catch up.

Jaskier listens attentively as Triss explains how they'd first met in Temeria, about the striga and the witcher who fell victim to it before Geralt had arrived, about King Foltest's scandalous affair with his sister, about how she had soon after left Temeria in favor of setting up shop in Novigrad. She's much friendlier than Jaskier is used to sorceresses being, smiling warmly as they talk and laughing when Jaskier jokes about Geralt being much more tight-lipped when Jaskier had asked him for the story about the striga.

After they've finished chatting, Geralt lists off the various herbs and other ingredients they're in search of at Triss' request. With a radiant smile directed at Geralt, Triss rises from her seat and starts bustling around the room, gathering herbs and flowers and small glass jars to store them in, leaving Jaskier and Geralt to finish their tea.

She's across the room with her back to them, standing at a work table scattered with potted herbs, meticulously gathering leaves and petals, when Geralt suddenly stands and crosses the room to stand beside her, leaving Jaskier alone at the table with Triss' cat, a giant fluffy orange beast of a feline with a smushed face that bats at his hand whenever he tries to pet it. Jaskier watches with a sinking feeling in his stomach as Geralt leans in close to Triss to say something to her that has her blushing and giggling as she turns to playfully swat at Geralt's arm, their faces intimately close.

Jaskier forces himself to look away as they continue talking softly amongst themselves, his honeyed tea suddenly bitter on his tongue. The knife in his chest twists.

Triss sends them on their way an hour or so later after providing them with everything they need, declining any sort of payment when Geralt reaches for his coin purse. With a gentle hand on Geralt's shoulder, orange painted nails a sharp contrast to the black of his armor, inviting them to visit her again the next time they're in Novigrad. Jaskier selfishly hopes they need never again enter the city.

✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾

Quite predictably, Jaskier’s hopes are cruelly dashed and not two months later they're returning to Novigrad to collect a bounty for a fleder that had been terrorizing an old cemetery not far from the city proper. As they approach the city gates, Jaskier offers to take the proof to the local alderman, hoping to spare Geralt the inevitable migraine, but Geralt just grunts something about having another errand to run.

They head to Hierarch Square immediately after seeing the alderman, Geralt's pockets heavy with coin as he leads them directly to Triss' home. It really is a lovely him, a pale cream color with dark wood timbering and a steeply pitched brown clay roof. It's a shame Jaskier despises the mere sight of it.

Triss greets them at the front door with a smile, the warm afternoon sunshine on her face highlighting the scattering of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She's enchanting in a sage green dress that matches the shade of her eyes, yellow and orange marigolds embroidered along the hem and modest neckline.

She invites them in much to Geralt's visible pleasure but Jaskier politely begs off, lying about needing to pop into Books and Scrolls across the way for a few things and ignoring the look Geralt gives him at the obvious lie. If he truly did need anything from the bookshop, he would have mentioned it to Geralt, something he and Geralt both know but it's the first excuse that springs to mind aside from being brutally honest and explaining that he has no interest in watching them flirt again.

He does actually head across the Square to wander aimlessly through Books and Scrolls in hopes of distracting himself from thoughts of what Geralt and Triss could be currently doing now that they had no audience. He chats with the proprietor for a bit, then indulges himself and purchases a few inexpensive chapbooks of poetry and a new leather-bound songbook, the pages gilded and the top right corner of every page stamped with the image of a charming little nightingale, a familiar symbol to a poet like himself. By the time he returns to where Roach is waiting outside of Triss', Geralt and Triss are still inside.

He scratches Roach behind the ear the way she likes and feeds her a carrot he's been saving in one of his bags for her, sits on the edge of one of Triss' planters and halfheartedly strums his lute, figures he might as well try to make some coin while Geralt's...preoccupied.

He's made enough coin to afford a nice room at the Kingfisher by the time Geralt emerges from Triss' home, a small self-satisfied grin on his face. It's a shame, really. Typically Jaskier would be basking in the rare sight of Geralt smiling but at this moment it just sets his heart plummeting.

Jaskier would like nothing more than to leave Novigrad as soon as possible but it's growing dark and he'd like to indulge in some creature comforts only an inn of fine repute in a large city can offer, rich wine and a large tub and feather mattresses. Geralt doesn't argue, either in too good of a mood from his dalliance or simply because he enjoys said comforts just as much as Jaskier does, leading the way to the nearby inn while Jaskier forces enough enthusiasm to prattle on about how it was one of his own ballads that led to the particular naming of the Kingfisher.

He performs the very song that evening at Olivier, the innkeeper's, request, stealing surreptitious glances at Geralt in the dark corner he's claimed as his own for the evening as he sings of an unrequited love so painful and all-consuming that when the young maiden learned that the knight she so adored had eloped with a gorgeous princess, she threw herself into the sea. It was only the compassion of a sympathetic goddess that saved her from her fate, turning her into a kingfisher so she could sing of her lost love forevermore.

Jaskier thinks of the nearby harbor, with its fishing ships and sailors, and wonders what kind of bird he'd become if he threw himself to the mercy of the sea.

✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾

To Jaskier's disdain, the pattern continues for the next several months.

Any time that they're even remotely close to Novigrad, they make a detour to the city, booking a discounted room at the Kingfisher (the rate generously halved by Olivier who gives Jaskier his drinks for free and always insists he grace them with a performance or two of his ballad about the kingfisher) that Geralt scarcely uses, constantly at Triss' home.

Jaskier splits his time at the Kingfisher, catching up with Olivier or performing with Priscilla, or the Passiflora, baring his heart and soul to the Marquise Serenity's sympathetic working girls who always coo over him and let him wax poetic about the brave, stoic, unfairly handsome witcher who will never return his affection. In the evenings, when Geralt deigns to return to the inn, always smiling the smile of a well-fucked man, Jaskier forces conversation while Geralt plays Gwent with Olivier or other patrons of the inn.

But most of all, he aches.

It's harder, somehow, with Triss. With Yennefer, while just as powerful and ever-present, the jealousy he felt was accompanied by the fact that he simply disliked Yennefer altogether, even before she and Geralt started their weird, complicated, fucked up relationship.

It wasn't difficult to dislike her when she had threatened him, held him at knifepoint, demanded he make a damn wish at the risk of losing his manhood if he refused. She would've easily killed him in her pursuit of the djinn and never lost a wink of sleep over it, disliked him just as much as he disliked her.

But Triss, Triss is sweet and kind, unassuming and about as intimidating as a kitten regardless of the powerful magic she wields. She smiles warmly whenever she sees Jaskier, greeting him with offers of tea and sweetcakes or questions about how he is rather than with snide comments about his age or appearance or his singing.

She's altogether lovely, nurturing and generous and absolutely gorgeous. Someone Geralt deserves. And Jaskier hates it. Hates her, as petty and vindictive as it may be. Hates her kindness and her gentleness and her warm melodic laughter. Hates that the man he loves seems to love her.

He hates her. But not nearly as much as he hates himself.

✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾

Not a full month has passed since the last time they've graced the streets of Novigrad and here they are once again back in the city after hearing word of a siren that's wandered into the busy harbor to prey on merchants from Skellige and local fishermen alike.

Accustomed to sirens hunting in packs, the way fish swim in schools and seabirds scavenge in flocks, Geralt had finished the contract in record time, lugging the siren's head and tail from the harbor to the alderman's home to collect his payment. By now Jaskier knows that it's useless to waste time hoping that they can simply leave Novigrad now that's Geralt job is done.

So when Geralt abruptly announces he has business elsewhere in the city, Jaskier just sighs and informs him that he'll be at the Passiflora in the event that Geralt needs to find him. Rather unlikely given that Geralt will be occupied with Triss for the next few hours. Fucking witcher stamina.

He ignores the odd, irritated look Geralt gives him as they part ways. Like Geralt has any right to be bothered by him seeking out his own pleasure with the ladies at the Passiflora when he's off getting tangled up in expensive sheets with a bloody sorceress.

It's not as if Jaskier's actually going to the Passiflora to indulge in the services offered there. Geralt knows that he loathes the concept of having to pay for a fuck, not when he can seduce nearly anyone he chooses with his charm and wit alone, as evidenced by the scores of married men and women whose beds he's graced.

No, Jaskier's heading to the famed brothel for much more selfish reasons than wetting his wick. To strum melancholy chords on his lute and cry and complain about his one-sided love.

Which is exactly what he does. This early in the day the Passiflora isn't very busy, the ladies milling around the extravagant front parlor with its thick red brocade curtains and exposed wood beams, relaxing on red velvet chaise lounges and large tufted couches big enough to host an orgy on.

They greet him with kind smiles and calls of his name, like they're welcoming an old friend, and he manages a smile that isn't entirely forced. He sits on one of the chaise lounges and begins playing, another melancholy ballad about lost love and heartbreak, the ladies gathering round to listen to him sing, charitably ignoring the way his voice shakes.

He leaves the Passiflora a few hours later feeling a bit lighter for having aired his grievances to his enraptured audience, heading straight to Triss' house to collect his witcher for supper. Roach isn't waiting outside like she typically is but Jaskier just assumes Geralt left her in the warmth and comfort of the Kingfisher's meticulously maintained stables under the care of Olivier's best stablehand.

Jaskier isn't sure what exactly possesses him to actually head inside to collect Geralt, should know from experience to be wary about poking his head in on Geralt and his sorceresses. And yet he strolls right into Triss' home like a lamb to the slaughter.

The drawing room, filled with multiple bouquets of marigolds and orange dahlias, is empty aside from Triss' cat. The great orange beast is sprawled out on its side on the green velvet sofa, watching Jaskier with its pale yellow eyes rather judgmentally. Quite childishly, Jaskier sticks his tongue out at it.

He continues through the house to the kitchen, Geralt's name on his lips, and immediately regrets it.

Triss is leaning against the edge of her wooden kitchen table, nearly sitting on it to accommodate the large witcher standing between her parted legs, knees bracketing his hips. The dual swords, silver for monsters steel for humans, strapped to Geralt's back are all that he can see of him. That and one of his big callused hand as they slip under the rucked up hem of Triss' deep green robes to gently clutch at her bared thigh.

It's like Rinde all over again, helplessly watching Geralt in another's embrace as his heart shatters in his chest with enough force it could shake the earth itself. His entire chest aching like he's just been sucker punched, Jaskier averts his eyes and starts spouting half-formed apologies, stepping backward and accidentally knocking a mortar and pestle off a nearby counter with a loud clatter in his haste to retreat.

It's as he's still profusely apologizing that he belatedly realizes that Geralt doesn't have any scars on his left wrist. Unlike the wrist connected to the hand on Triss' exposed thigh. And that while he saw the broad shoulders and dual swords of a witcher, he didn't spot a single white hair, instead what appeared to be a thatch of dark hair.

He looks up sharply, trailing off, to see Triss hastily pulling down her skirts, cheeks darkened with a blush. And standing beside her is...

"Eskel?!" Jaskier gasps, looking the witcher up and down in shock. He's unmistakable with his dark wispy hair and spiked jacket and handsome smile, not to mention the rather distinctive scars running down the right side of his face.

They've only met on a few occasions, on contracts serious enough to attract more than one witcher. Such an occurrence would typically lead to the witchers trying to beat each other to finish the contract in order to claim the reward for themselves but in the case of two Wolf School witchers such as Geralt and Eskel, it simply led to the contracts being finished quicker than expected, the reward evenly split, and Eskel regaling Jaskier with embarrassing childhood stories about Geralt.

Now, Eskel greets him with a crooked smile, rubbing the back of his neck as though embarrassed about being caught. "Jaskier! You manage to drag Geralt to Novigrad?"

The mere mention of Geralt's name sets Jaskier alight, in an instant absolutely fuming as he cries, "What in the hell is going on here?! I would expect this from the likes of you — he points an accusatory finger at Triss, then turns to Eskel — "but you?! My gods, what's Geralt going to think?! His own brother...! Melitele's tits, how in the bloody hell is going to handle this-this despicable behavior?! You should be ashamed of yourselves!"

To his chagrin, Eskel merely laughs, turning to Triss who sends him a confused look. She turns back to Jaskier, still smoothing out her skirts, and opens her mouth, undoubtedly in an attempt to defend her cruel deception.

"I don't want to hear it!" Jaskier snaps, incensed. He throws up his hands in frustration and turns on his heel to stomp back out of the kitchen, through the drawing room, and out of Triss' home, slamming the door behind him, fully prepared to storm across the Square and retreat to his and Geralt's room at the Kingfisher.

He has no plan, no inkling of what exactly his next step is beside waiting for Geralt to return to their room and somehow explaining that once again his sorceress lover has hurt him with her selfishness. The thought of breaking such dreadful news to Geralt is daunting; Jaskier doesn't ever want to be the cause of such pain for his friend.

He may act the careless rakehell when it suits him, ricocheting from one whirlwind affair to another, but even he isn't immune to the sting that comes with being left for another. He's grown attached to lovers time and time again only to be cast aside in favor of someone else, someone younger, prettier, less annoying, the pain always just as sharp as the very first time.

He thinks of the careless way the Countess de Stael had abandoned him for her new lover, of how she had callously ousted him from her home and her life, of how he'd drowned his sorrow in women and wine and a wasted wish on a djinn that wasn't even under his command. Of the horrible pain he feels every time Geralt goes chasing after Yennefer, leaving him behind with his bruised and battered heart still on his sleeve.

He only gets a quarter of the way across the Square, still trying to sort out how exactly he's going to explain the horrid situation, before he quite literally bumps into Geralt, having paid no mind to the bustling crowd around him in his anger.

Geralt's clearly on his way to Triss' home; it's the only reason he ever steps foot in the busy Square, otherwise avoiding it like a plague even he wouldn't be immune to. Jaskier plants one hand on Geralt's chest and points back at Triss' house with the other as he resolutely declares, "You do not want to go in there!"

"Jaskier," Geralt grunts, rolling his eyes and pressing forward, making Jaskier slide backward across the stone-paved street, propelled by the unstoppable force that is Geralt of Rivia. Roach offers no assistance. "I need to see Triss about getting more wolfsbane, I'm out."

"Not right now, you don't!" Jaskier insists, holding up a finger in Geralt's face. Geralt ignores him, continuing to walk forward as Jaskier's boots make a horrendous sound as the soles scrape over the cobblestone. Jaskier lets out an affronted squeak. "Geralt! For once in your miserable life will you listen to me, you stubborn oaf! Especially when I'm trying to protect you!"

"Protect me?" Geralt echoes, abruptly freezing in his tracks. His hand immediately goes for his swords. "What's in there?"

"Oh, put your swords away, it's not a monster," Jaskier says, though he certainly considers anyone who would hurt Geralt in such a way to be quite monstrous indeed. Regardless, the swords aren't entirely necessary. Jaskier sighs. "I just... I don't want you going in there, alright?"

Geralt narrows his eyes almost imperceptibly, little more than a slight squint as he looks at Jaskier, dropping his hand back to his side. "Don't you trust me?"

"Oh please, Geralt," Jaskier scoffs, rolling his eyes. "It's not you I don't trust..."

"Jaskier," Geralt says again, patience wearing thin.

Jaskier sighs again, feeling absolutely awful about having to relay the terrible truth to Geralt. At the very least, he can spare Geralt the pain of witnessing it himself, from having the sight of his lover and his brother tangled together in an intimate embrace ingrained in his mind's eye forevermore.

"Geralt, I'm so sorry," Jaskier begins, unable to stop the nervous fidgeting of his fingers, alternating between wringing his hands together and picking at his cuticles. "I... I was looking for you at Triss' and I found her. With Eskel."

He hopes it's self-explanatory enough to be a sufficient explanation, that he won't have to delve into the lurid details, but Geralt simply stares at him expectantly. "And-And, oh Geralt, I'm so sorry. They were in a rather...compromising position."

"And?" Geralt demands when it becomes apparent Jaskier has nothing else to say, cocking a brow. He seems entirely unfazed by what Jaskier's just revealed to him, as though he had simply reported the weather and not an instance of infidelity.

"And? And?!" Jaskier repeats, aghast. "And, I'm sorry that your lover has been unfaithful! With one your own brothers of all people!"

His voice raises without his volition, the slightest edge of hysteria sharpening it. Fortunately, the dull roar of the marketplace around them drowns it out a bit and keeps him from making a spectacle of himself.

Still, Geralt does not react beyond the confused look plastered on his face. Jaskier doesn't exactly expect a jealous outburst or for Geralt to break down in tears but he does expect a reaction of some sort! Anger or resignation or upset. Anything! Something! Not confusion, not this otherwise blank expression.

Jaskier's about to ask if Geralt heard him when the other man finally speaks.

"Jaskier," he begins almost cautiously, like he has something of grave importance to inform Jaskier of and fears he might startle the bard. "Triss is not my lover."

Ooh, lovely, now Geralt's lying to him. It reignites Jaskier's anger with a vengeance.

"Oh, please, Geralt! Despite what you may think I am not an idiot! You hate cities, can barely tolerate them for more than a moment, and yet over the past year, you've made us stop in Novigrad whenever we're even remotely nearby! You spend hours with her doing Melitele knows what while I'm relegated to playing at the inn to earn coin for a room you scarcely even use!"

"You never gave the impression you wanted to sit with us," Geralt answers, as though that's what Jaskier is upset about, feeling unwelcome during their little trysts. "You seemed content keeping Roach company, but you were always welcome, Triss said so herself."

Jaskier lets out an outraged squawk, gesturing aimlessly in his frustration. "Welcome to what?! Watching the man I've been in love with for half my life and his new lover?! Well, no thank you! I may be a glutton for punishment but I am not a bloody masochist and I have no interest whatsoever in subjecting myself to such a thing!"

He barely has a moment to register what he's just said, what precious secret he's just so carelessly divulged, because as soon as the words are out of his mouth the bell tower across the Square erupts into sound, filling the afternoon with the clamor of bells. It's too much for Geralt, much too loud much too fast, the sound most assuredly deafening with his heightened sense of hearing. He immediately winces, squeezing his eyes shut and raising a hand to his temple.

"Oh, Geralt," Jaskier says, tone softening as he steps closer to Geralt to lay a hand on his shoulder. Geralt just hums, sounding pained. It immediately spurs Jaskier into action.

Keeping his hand on Geralt's shoulder, Jaskier sets his other hand around Geralt's right wrist, guiding him across the Square and letting him lean some of his rather considerable weight on him. Geralt maintains his light grip on Roach's reins like an anchor, earning a soft, soothing nicker from the mare as she gently bumps her snout against the side of his arm.

"Come now, we'll get you to the inn and get you some peace and quiet away from all this hubbub," Jaskier needlessly explains as he ushers Geralt down a less busy side street towards the Kingfisher. He bites his lip to keep from rambling the way he tends to when he's anxious or nervous, not wanting to exacerbate Geralt's migraine.

Fortunately, Geralt allows himself to be led to the Kingfisher and up the two flights of stairs to their room that's significantly quieter than the busy streets outside without any complaints, only speaking up to insist Jaskier make sure Roach is properly stabled. Jaskier leaves Geralt's side just long enough to ensure that Roach is content in her cozy stable with fresh hay and a few apples the size of his fist.

Returning to Geralt's side, Jaskier sits him down on the edge of the bed, helping him strip out of the heaviest pieces of his armor until Geralt waves him off to finish removing it himself, kicking off his boots in the meantime. As Geralt finishes removing his armor until he's in just his dark shirt and leathers, Jaskier bustles around the room making him some tea.

He boils the water over the fireplace, briefly lamenting the fact that he can't instantaneously boil it with a quick Igni, and prepares the dried chamomile flowers he keeps for just such an occasion. He digs a chunk of ginger root out of the bottom of his bag, grating a bit of it into the dried chamomile; just a touch so as not to overwhelm Geralt's sensitive palate.

He wraps the chamomile and hint of ginger in some cheesecloth as a makeshift teabag, setting it in a teacup Olivier has brought up at his request. The teacup is hand-painted, the delicate ivory-colored porcelain adorned with a ring of forget-me-nots and kingfishers in mid-flight. The irony of both symbols makes Jaskier's chest ache and a hollow laugh slip past his lips.

Once the water's done boiling, Jaskier pours some into the teacup, letting the tea steep for a few minutes before bringing it to Geralt who's still rubbing at his forehead. He instructs Geralt to drink it all then steps out to fetch a fresh pot of water from the kitchens, ferrying it back up to their room as quickly as he can. He dips an old rag, also taken from the kitchens, into the pot of cold water, wringing it out until it's damp rather than sopping wet before folding it and gently draping it across Geralt's forehead, setting his empty teacup aside.

He's holding the rag against Geralt's forehead, hoping it'll help alleviate his migraine to some degree, when Geralt's fingers curl around his wrist. His other hand comes to rest on the small of Jaskier's back beneath the hem of his doublet, reeling him in closer until their chests are nearly molded together, his shins hitting the side of the low mattress and his free hand settling on Geralt's shoulder.

Geralt's expression is significantly less pinched than it was in the Square as he looks up at Jaskier, pinning him in place with his gaze alone.

"Jaskier..." he rumbles, voice like an incoming thunderstorm. "What you said earlier..."

Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut, the memory of what he'd said outside Triss' washing over him like the rainstorm accompanying Geralt's thunder. Once again his careless tongue has gotten him into trouble, only this time instead of enraging some twopenny duke or sweet maiden's father, he's potentially ruined the most important relationship in his life.

He's said too much, like he always does. Always blathering on like the lovesick fool he is, using all sorts of pretty words and melodies to hide the ugly things he feels, like his jealousy and distrust, his petty resentment towards those whose only sin was that they'd had Geralt in the way that he's always wanted but can never have.

And now it's going to cost him Geralt, the way he's always known it would eventually. A foregone conclusion he'd tried to delay for as long as possible.

Now that Geralt knows that Jaskier's in love with him, now that Jaskier's so carelessly confessed his most well-guarded secret, he's sure to leave Jaskier in the dust the way he's always threatened. And Jaskier will be without the man he's devoted so much of his life to, with only memories and unsung love songs to keep him warm at night.

He waits patiently for Geralt to continue, pressing his lips together as he tries valiantly to steel himself for the inevitable. But bracing oneself for heartbreak is like bracing for a hurricane; being prepared did not alleviate the devastation that was wrought, it only made it slightly more manageable.

"Triss and I aren't lovers," Geralt says instead, and Jaskier just barely refrains from laughing in his face. "We're friends, acquaintances, really. Nothing more."

There's something about the tone of Geralt's voice, some undercurrent of steel and soft thunder, that makes it impossible for Jaskier to doubt the veracity of his statement, not when for all of Geralt's tendency to deflect Jaskier's prying questions he rarely ever lies to him.

Jaskier opens his eyes, looking down at Geralt with a confused frown. "But—"

"Last winter Eskel told me he'd met her on a contract in Novigrad, that they're...involved," Geralt elaborates. A small smile curls the corner of his lips up, it's the same small smile he wears when he teases Lambert or decides to make a joke at Jaskier's expense. "I've been visiting her to tell her about him. Old stories of dumb shit he's done, mischief he caused that led to a hiding."

Jaskier gapes at him, trying to wrap his mind around what Geralt's just told him. Once he does, he can't contain his incredulity. "You mean to tell me that for the past year you've been venturing into a city you despise solely to tell your brother's lover funny stories about him just to embarrass him?! Oh, gods, what am I even saying? That's exactly something you'd do you-you... You bloody muttonhead!"

Geralt's smile persists. "Muttonhead? You're the one who thought I was fucking Triss."

"Of course, I did!" Because you were always off slipping away to go see her at all hours, always whispering and cooing like a pair of lovesick mourning doves! What was I supposed to think? How was I to know you were just trying to embarrass your poor brother!" Jaskier defends, throwing up his free hand, indignation swelling within him before ebbing away to be replaced by a tide of embarrassment. He groans, hanging his head and closing his eyes. "I'm such an idiot, I cannot believe I've made such a fool of myself! Over a bloody misunderstanding of all things! Oh, sweet Melitele, I'm a fucking fool."

He draws in a sharp, ragged breath, raises his chin and tries to brace himself, staring over Geralt's shoulder. "And now... Now I'm sure you'll be taking your leave. Suppose Olivier will let me stay for a bit until I regain my bearings, as long as I perform my song about the kingfisher for him, he really does love that ballad."

"Jaskier," Geralt says, cutting off Jaskier's rambling before he can manage to embarrass himself any further. How very charitable of him. "Why would I leave?"

"Why would you...? Geralt! I just professed my love for you not half an hour's time ago! What else should I expect you to do? Pick me up in your arms and declare your endless devotion to me?!" Jaskier's impassioned diatribe trails off with a deep sigh. Still pressing the damp rag to Geralt's forehead, ever gentle to compensate for every hand that's touched him with nothing but cruelty, he breathes deeply and meets Geralt's eyes. "I told you, Geralt, I'm not a masochist. I would not torture myself with such grand delusions."

"I know well that you do not reciprocate my feelings. I understand, of course, and I've made my peace with it," Jaskier goes on, forcing himself to go on even when he feels his throat tighten. "I didn't intend on admitting it in such a way — in any way, really — and I apologize. I would be happy to continue traveling with you, truly nothing would make me happier, but I understand if you wish to part ways. I would never...hold it against you or any such thing, I swear."

"Did you mean it?" Geralt asks, catching Jaskier off guard. He's not sure what exactly Geralt's referring to.

He frowns at Geralt, sure his confusion is scrawled across his face. "Did I mean what?"

"What you said," Geralt says rather helpfully. Jaskier raises his brows expectantly. He's said a great deal this afternoon.

"When you said you love me," Geralt clarifies, meeting Jaskier's eyes with no trace of hesitation.

Jaskier manages another weak smile, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Of course. With every breath in my body. Every line in every song."

"Jaskier..." Geralt breathes, sounding wounded. His eyes slide shut and he tips his head to the side until his nose and cheek graze the heel of Jaskier's palm. He presses his lips to the spot where Jaskier's wrist and hand, softly kissing it.

Jaskier's breath catches in his throat at the fleeting touch of Geralt's lips, his stubble rasping against the smooth skin of his inner wrist. Hearing the hitch in Jaskier's breath, Geralt opens his eyes, gazing up at Jaskier with those buttercup gold eyes of his that always make Jaskier melt, knees weak from naught but a look.

With the hand he has on the small of Jaskier's back, warm through the fabric of his chemise, Geralt pulls him even closer. So close that Jaskier has to straddle Geralt's knee to avoid falling on his ass.

The movement startles another gasp out of Jaskier. He drops the wet rag with a muted thump against the hardwood floor as Geralt places another barely-there kiss to his wrist, just shy of where his own fingers are still curled around Jaskier's forearm.

Geralt raises his head and Jaskier can't resist the urge to cup Geralt's cheek in his hand, only having to move it an inch or so to rest his palm against Geralt's jaw, his thumb automatically brushing over the sharp cut of his cheekbone. Geralt leans into the touch the same way that Roach leans into scratches behind her ear, full-bodied and surprisingly trusting.

Chests brushing and Jaskier's knees bracketing one of Geralt's, they're dangerously close together. He knows Geralt would never hurt him, knows he could likewise never be able to be truly afraid of him. But Jaskier's heart pounds against his ribcage like waves crashing against the rocky shore, the ebb and flow thundering in his ears like warning bells.

Geralt's face is close to his, only a few scant inches apart, a temptation like he's never known. Geralt's always been a temptation, a constant one dangled in front of Jaskier but just out of his reach, closer than a brother. But he's never been *this* close.

Jaskier's been good for the past twenty odd years. Has resisted all of his selfish urges and one-sided wanting. Hasn't let his hands linger longer than could be deemed friendly, hasn't succumbed to his ever-present desire to just throw caution and consequences to the wind and kiss Geralt with all the passion and longing he's managed to contain thus far.

He's been tortured with temptation over the years, nearly driven mad by it all. By the temptation of helping Geralt out of his armor and sullied clothes, face to face with miles of pale skin and mouthwatering muscle greater men than he would find hard to resist drooling over, ignoring his baser desires in order to help bathe him. By the temptation of waking in a shared bed with Geralt only an arm's length away, if even that far, his handsome features softened by sleep and the early morning sunshine bathing him in rays of pale gold.

But he could never make that leap of faith, could never close the distance between them even for the most chaste of kisses. He was too worried about losing what he already had and cherished so dearly in his pursuit of more, afraid he would lose his world while shooting for the moon.

He wasn't lying when he said he would be happy to continue traveling with Geralt, content to have Geralt in his life as a friend rather than the alternative of not having him in his life at all.

But Geralt's eyes flicker down to his lips for a long moment, a flash of brilliant gold promising treasure far beyond any precious metals or priceless gems and Jaskier can no longer resist the temptation, yielding to it instead.

He leans down toward Geralt at the same moment Geralt raises his head, pulled together like two magnets, binary stars drawn towards one another by mutual attraction. He's not sure who exactly kisses who first or if they simply crash together at precisely the same time, Jaskier's hand slipping into Geralt's hair when Geralt releases his wrist in favor of cupping the side of Jaskier's face in his big hand.

Kissing Geralt is like feeling the first rays of morning sunshine wash over him, like walking in the first rainfall after a long drought. It's like the rush of performing for a large audience at a prestigious event and like the intimate camaraderie formed when performing for just a small tavern full of attentive listeners.

It's honey and salted sea air, steel and silver and snow, blood and ambrosia. Like coming home and embarking on a new adventure all at once.

Jaskier never wants to stop. Knows he could easily get addicted to it if Geralt let him, could grow drunk off the bouquet of his lips like the finest wine. And, wonder of wonders, it seems as though Geralt just might.

Because Geralt's kissing him with the same remarkably focused, single-minded intensity he uses when completing an especially difficult contract, when he's sharpening his swords by the firelight, when he's taking care of Roach. Being the object of such intensity is heady, rather flattering.

Geralt's right hand is warm on Jaskier's back, his little finger dipping under the hem of his chemise, using the hand cupping Jaskier's face to guide his head just the slightest bit to the side as he deepens the kiss. His lips are slightly chapped but addictive nonetheless as he curls his tongue against Jaskier's in a way that nearly makes him see stars. Jaskier's knees are perilously weak, knees gone to jelly like the strawberry preserves Geralt fancies so much at the first touch of his lips.

The position is a bit awkward. With how low the bed is, Jaskier's forced to crane his neck at an awkward angle, head tipped to the side to avoid simply mashing his face against Geralt's like a schoolboy having his first snog. He can feel a crick in his neck that's going to plague him for days if he doesn't move but the thought of tearing his lips away from Geralt's is downright torturous and he'd rather stand there forever in slight discomfort if it means he can continue to kiss his witcher for just a moment longer.

But Geralt, ever vigilant, seems to notice the uncomfortable way Jaskier's head is angled, moving farther back on the mattress and pulling Jaskier with him until the bard's crawling on his knees on the mattress, now straddling Geralt's thigh rather than his knee. They're of a height now, easing the way as Jaskier pours all of himself into the kiss with renewed passion.

But even with the lungs of a singer, Jaskier has to break the kiss to catch his breath, chest heaving as he presses his forehead against Geralt's. Geralt shifts his hand from Jaskier's face to his hip as he brushes the tip of his nose across Jaskier's cheek, practically nuzzling him, and mutters, "Never wanted her, Jaskier. Just you. Only you."

Jaskier can't help the groan that's wrenched out of him at the hushed confession, lowering his head for another deep kiss, fisting his left hand in the fabric of Geralt's shirt. His heart feels fit to burst at the confirmation that his feelings aren't one-sided, that his love for Geralt is reciprocated to some degree, enough for him to be straddling the man's lap and kissing the daylights out of him.

A few moments later, he again reluctantly drags his lips away from Geralt's for the sake of breathing, smiling when Geralt grunts almost petulantly as Jaskier pauses their kiss. Catching his breath, he runs his fingers through Geralt's hair, the glide of the silk-soft strands through his fingers both soothing and exhilarating.

Geralt ducks his head to bury his face in the side of Jaskier's neck, peppering kisses down the side of his neck from just below his ear to the collar of his doublet. Jaskier lets out a soft breath, hand tightening in Geralt's hair.

"I... I should apologize to Triss," Jaskier manages to say in spite of the cloud of lust filling his entire body, mind clearing for a moment even as Geralt very lightly grazes his teeth up the long line of his neck. "I said some rather awful things to her..."

"Hmm... Later..." Geralt rumbles against his throat, lips rasping over the sensitive skin and making Jaskier squirm atop him. Jaskier shudders as Geralt starts laying open-mouthed kisses on his throat, wants him to leave a mark, a bruise in the shape of his mouth as proof that this isn't just another midday fantasy or late-night dream, that it's real. He doubts Geralt would be adverse.

"E-Eskel, too," Jaskier says shakily, eyes fluttering shut as Geralt continues showering his neck with attention, his tongue occasionally darting out to taste his skin. He gasps out a sharp moan when Geralt nips at a rather sensitive spot just behind Jaskier's earlobe, apparently not a fan of Jaskier saying other people's names while wrapped in his arms. Jaskier can't exactly fault him for that, dipping his head to press his lips against Geralt's.

The hand on Jaskier's back slips more fully beneath the hem of his chemise, fingers fanned out across the small of his back, Geralt's other hand on his hip squeezing gently. Jaskier shivers again, Geralt's bare skin on his own sending a frisson of pleasure down his spine, heat pooling low in his gut.

He blindly feels for the front laces of Geralt's shirt, humming happily when he finds them. He abandons his grip on Geralt's hair to settle both hands on Geralt's broad chest, sturdy and warm beneath his palms, fingers toying with the laces.

He unlaces them as much as possible, revealing a wide swath of his chest, scattered with old scars and dusted with hair. Jaskier can't resist running his hands over the bared skin, tracing his fingers over familiar scars he knew the stories of by heart: claw marks from a griffin, an old stab wound from a lucky bandit, a slash from the tail spikes of a forktail, all of them part of the man he loves so much, features rather than flaws.

He wants to touch more of Geralt's chest, wants to strip him of his shirt and run his fingers over every scar he can find, press kisses to each one. But he also wants to bury his hands in Geralt's hair again, to brush his fingertips through the silky strands that smell faintly of jasmine bath oil. He wants to cup Geralt's face in his hands, brush kisses across his cheeks and forehead and eyelids and chin. He'd also very much like to get his hands on Geralt's ass.

Years of wanting have left him with so many desires to touch, all of them getting muddled in his head in his haste to accept whatever Geralt's willing to offer even if it's just a few more kisses. But his mind is still clear enough for something to occur to him.

"Oh!" He gasps, pulling back for a moment, panting a bit. He winces theatrically, genuinely contrite. "You may not ever be able to go to the Passiflora again. I may have told all the girls there that you're a heartless cad who's quite thoroughly shattered my heart with your gallivanting ways."

Geralt quirks a pale brow, clearly annoyed that Jaskier's once again put their kissing on hold in favor of prattling on. But there's a smirk slowly tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks up at Jaskier. "Is that what you were doing there?"

Jaskier nods a touch sheepishly, chewing his lip. He runs his thumb over Geralt's bottom lip and the cleft in his chin, feeling a bit foolish as he admits, "You know I don't like paying for sex. I needed a shoulder to cry on. The girls were always rather sympathetic."

"Hmm," Geralt replies, reaching up to card his fingers through Jaskier's hair, brushing his thumb over his cheek. His eyes flicker down to look at Jaskier's mouth, lips pink and kiss swollen. "Somehow, I think I'll manage without their services. Now shut up, Jaskier."

And Jaskier, well, he's more than happy to comply. For now. The sea won’t be claiming him tonight. He’s found his halcyon days.

[frenchpuppycormier]

Prom Night!

(ao3)

word count: 2k

rating: T

Shoutout to @krdnvrs for being my number one fan and cheerleader on all of my random ideas, and for listening to me complain. Another thanks to @red-cape-morgana for being my glorified cheerleader ;)

They were in Midvale, working a case, when it happened.

Somehow Lex managed to lace the water supply with kryptonite, the team got wind of it, and so they went to investigate.

Lena, now an integral part of the team, tagged along.

Alex, J’onn, Brainy, and Nia went first to make sure everyone was safe and that the kryptonite wouldn’t harm anyone, while also checking to see what kind of kryptonite it was and how it would affect Kara.

Kara and Lena are staying back at the town line. Waiting patiently. Some more than others.

“Will you please stop pacing? You’re stressing me out,” Lena rubs at her temples.

Kara stops mid-step, skidding on the loose gravel, and sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m just really anxious right now, and I’m scared of what they might find. I mean, what if—Eliza lives here! I can’t just—

“Hey,” Lena interrupts by placing both hands on Kara’s forearms. “It’ll be fine. Eliza isn’t even here. She’s out of town, remember?”

Kara lets out a deep breath and nods.

“Can I—Kara, can I give you a hug?” she asks, timidly. Lena won’t openly admit it, but Kara’s the only one she openly and freely gives hugs to. Anyone else and it’s touch and go.

Kara smiles, “Duh! You don’t even have to ask, you know that.” She wrangles her arms out from Lena’s hands and wraps her own around the CEO’s shoulders, burying her face in raven hair.

Lena grips her hands tightly around the hero’s back and inhales deeply, the sweet smell of honey and lavender from the blonde's shampoo, and the hint of earth which makes Kara, Kara.

The moment was quickly disrupted by a chirping in Kara’s ear. She steps back slightly so one arm is still resting on Lena’s shoulders while the other presses the comm. “Alex?”

Lena is moderately perturbed at Alex in this moment, but doesn’t let it show. Instead, she loosens her grip and slides her hands to rest on Kara’s hips, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“You guys should head into town,” Alex supplies.

“What is it?” Kara asks while absentmindedly playing with Lena’s hair.

“Everything’s fine, but you’re gonna wanna see this for yourself.”

Kara frowns. “Okay, we’ll be there shortly.” She clears her throat and Lena eyes her warily.

“So?” Lena steps back and crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“Alex says she has something to show us,” Kara replies. “So,” she moved her arms in a swooping gesture, “Ready to go?”

Lena shakes her head. “No. We are not flying there.”

“Suit yourself,” Kara laughs and begins to take off. Lena stops her with a hand on the wrist before she can. “Change your mind?”

“Just promise to go slow,” Lena huffs, giving Kara permission to scoop her up bridal style.

“Yes, ma’am,” she smirks.

___

“Blue kryptonite?”

Alex nods.

“What is his endgame?”

Alex puffs her cheeks up and releases hot air. “It seems he wants to get rid of your powers. And apparently he thought starting here would be the best course of action, knowing you grew up here and you’d come this way. Fool proof plan, really.” A sudden serious look clouds over her. "And I have a feeling this is only the first step in his nefarious plans."

Kara groans, "Well, is everyone okay at least?" She puts her hands on her hips, in the classic hero pose.

"As far as we know, it doesn't have any negative effects on humans. In fact, we think it does the opposite."

"Of course!" Lena interjects from her spot. She's stayed quiet and let the sisters discuss things, until now she remembers information that could help.

"Lena?" Kara raises her eyebrows in question.

"When Lex was researching ways to hurt Superman, he discovered blue kryptonite," she rolls her eyes. "Blue kryptonite can drastically improve the health of any non-Kryptonian organism, such as livestock, crops, and humans. Continual consumption of blue kryptonite-irradiated water puts humans in a perfect state of health. I'm almost positive he's been drinking the stuff for years."

"Well, fuck," Alex huffs.

Lena shakes her head. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. It doesn't make him super-powered or anything. Actually, now that I think about it, the blue rock makes humans more prone to mental irregularities. If that's the case, it would explain a lot."

"Is there a way to counteract it?" Kara asks.

Lena sighs. "If I'm hypothesizing correctly, I'd bet my life on lead getting the job done."

Kara nods and looks to Alex. "Okay. You got all the rock bagged up then?" Alex nods. "How long until the water supply is back to normal?"

"A week? Maybe two. Just don't go drinking the water at mom's house, got it?"

"I'll stick to bottled," Kara smirks.

___

As they’re flying to Eliza's later that night, Kara notices her old high school is bustling with people and everyone is gussied up. She gasps loudly in Lena’s ear. “Lena, look!”

“What?”

“It’s prom night!” she slows down and finds a spot behind some bushes for cover. Once grounded she practically beams. “Let’s break in!"

Lena guffaws.

Kara stares at her with a gleaming twinkle in her eyes.

“Are you serious?” She asks incredulously.

Kara nods furiously like a bobble head. “Yeah, totally! I remember you telling me once how you never went to prom, and then I promised you if the opportunity ever arises I’d take you myself. And I'd dance with you.”

“You said no such thing,” Lena states, highly amused.

“Okay, well," Kara visibly flusters, "Maybe I never said that part out loud, but I still thought it in my head. And...I mean it.”

“Kara, that’s very sweet, but look at us,” she gestures between them, “I’m dressed like I’m ready for a board meeting, and you,” she glances around to make sure no one can see or hear them and whispers, “You’re Supergirl.”

Kara looks down and pouts, “Oh. Right.” It doesn’t keep her down for long though, because she speeds away and comes back in a dress before Lena can even blink.

“Wow. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” Lena chuckles. “You didn’t think to grab anything for me?”

The hero frowns while looking Lena up and down with an intense gaze, causing Lena to feel immensely self-conscious. With a finger to her chin Kara says, “I think you look perfect. You’re basically wearing a suit, anyway, just one that probably costs more than anyone in that building can afford.”

Lena raises her eyebrows haughtily.

“Shall we?” Kara holds out her arm.

Lena rolls her eyes fondly, before relaxing, and hooks her arm through the blonde’s. “Alright, MacGyver, how are we doing this?”

“Easy,” Kara shrugs. “I’ll just open the door to the gym with my super strength, and sneak in the back. Piece of cake.”

“Famous last words.”

___

“Ha! Told you we could do it!” Kara exclaims as they make their way through the gym, where fairy lights are strewn about everywhere, and the ceiling is decorated with cheesy cotton drapes. Surprisingly, no one even notices the two women, and if they do they don’t care.

“The night is still young,” Lena points out.

“Oh quit being a downer,” Kara teases. As they find a secluded spot in the corner, a slow song starts to play. The lights cast a glow on Lena making her seem ethereal, and Kara gapes in awe.

"You look beautiful, Lena."

"I could say the same for you," she blushes.

“May I have this dance?” Kara playfully bends forward with one hand outstretched.

“You’re such a goober,” Lena laughs and takes her hand.

They slow dance for a while, the heat between them hanging in the air. As soon as Kara thinks about asking Lena the question that's been niggling her for the past few months, she notices a man poking around in the corner of her eye. He makes eye contact with her and begins making his way toward them. Kara panics.

“There’s a man coming our way. What do we do? He’s probably gonna kick us out!”

“Shit, I don’t know! This was your idea!” Lena hisses.

Kara thinks fast and makes a decision. A decision she never thought would happen, here in Midvale, in her high school gymnasium of all places. A decision that will inevitably change their lives forever.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Lena answers immediately, with a wistful smile plastered on her face.

Kara nods and takes a moment to compose herself. Just a tiny moment. Because they’re kind of running out of time here. Before she can second-guess herself, she takes Lena’s face in her hands and kisses her.

She kisses her like her life depends on it. She’s waited for this moment for so long and it’s finally here. At a high school prom she wasn't even invited to. The thought makes her want to laugh. But she can't, because she's kissing Lena. And Lena is kissing her back with just as much ferocity! It’s funny, she never imagined she’d be back here, years later, with the prettiest woman in the universe at her side, yet that’s what was in the cards for her.

When what feels like minutes of absolute heaven go by, Kara pulls back slightly, breathing heavy. She slowly opens her eyes and whispers, “Do you think it worked?”

“Excuse me?”

The voice startles them from their little bubble and makes the women jump apart in surprise.

"Gosh, you scared the crap outta me," Kara shudders, clutching at her heart. She gathers her wits and when she sees the man, realization slowly dawns on her. "Kenny?"

The man, presumably Kenny, frowns. "I'm sorry, do we know each other?"

"It's Kara. Kara Danvers!" she smiles with hesitancy. The gears in Kenny's head start turning and he puts his hands on his head in utter bewilderment.

"Kara!"

Being the tactile person she is, Kara envelops him in a bone crushing hug. When they pull back she asks, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the principal," he replies bashfully. Kenny smirks and tilts his head. "What are you doing here?"

Kara blushes a deep red and clears her throat. "Um, well...I'm just visiting, actually." She adjusts her glasses awkwardly. "You know, see how everyone's doing since I left..."

"And who's this?" Kenny asks, peering behind her, effectively cutting off the inevitable ramble about to happen.

The blonde swallows. "Oh geez, where are my manners?" she bonks herself on the head and turns to Lena. Kara gently pushes her forward by the small of her back, and rests her hand there. "Lena, this is my friend Kenny from high school. Kenny, this is my....Lena..."

Lena chuckles and holds out her hand. “Lena Luthor. Nice to meet you.” His grip is firm when they shake hands.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he replies.

Kara grins after seeing her former (dead?) best friend meet her current best friend (maybe more?) chat with one another.

She explains why they’re there and that they essentially snuck in.

“I won’t tell a soul. You have my word,” Kenny winks at them. “Keep in touch, yeah?” Kara nods enthusiastically, and gives him one last hug before departing to the other end of the gym, where he sees a student spiking the punch bowl.

"So..." Lena starts, "That's the Kenny you told me about?"

Lena notices Kara's eyes crinkle and one corner of her mouth lifts up, in that cute way it does when she's thinking deeply about something. "Yeah. He died though, in my timeline." She frowns, and her eyes dart around the floor like the cracks and scratches have all the answers. "This whole universe...reset...thing is mind-boggling."

Lena reaches up and rubs softly at Kara's little crinkle with the pad of her thumb. When it disappears, she drops her hand and plays with the blonde's fingers instead. "Nothing's ever easy in our lives, is it?"

Kara hums an affirmation in response.

"You can tell me about it, if you'd like," Lena offers.

"That'd be nice," Kara smiles, then like a flip of a switch she's throwing her a flirty smirk. "But not right now," she joins their other hands together and pushes them forward and back, as if they're on the cusp of telling each other exciting news.

"No?" Lena plays along.

"Nope," she raises their hands up so Lena's rest on her shoulders, and Kara pulls her forward by the waist. "I was kinda hoping we could talk about that kiss."

"Mhmm, I was wondering if you were gonna bring that up," she inches closer so her forehead touches Kara's, and she encircles her arms around her neck, the distance between them practically nonexistent.

"I should've asked," she connects her hands on the other woman's back.

Lena shakes her head, the action causing their noses to bump. "You never have to ask to kiss me." Before Kara can properly respond, Lena connects their lips together again, shutting her up in the best way possible.

They still have a lot of things to figure out, a lot of demons to fight-both literally and figuratively-but Lena relishes in the thought that at least she has Kara.

At least they're doing it together.

After all, it is their life motto: stronger together.

[henrysglock]

Hey! So most of those TFS screenshots are mine (there’s one of Em’s in there too, the one with non-italic captions, but the others with italic captions are all mine)

I put a lot of time and effort into editing and captioning those so people could have evidence to support my analyses. I mean hours of work choosing frames and cleaning up the exposure/sharpness alone. So I would really have appreciated a tag in the video, something as simple as "pics from henrysglock on tumblr". And like...especially since there are exactly two (2) sources of concrete TFS media, and I am one of them. Without Em and me, there wouldn’t be screenshots to put in videos.

It’s common courtesy to give credit for this kind of stuff.

Not only that ^^, but the overall message of the video you’ve used them is antithetical to the reality of Henry’s character.

Henry is an autist, no doubt. I can see that clear as day as an autist myself. So talk about his ineptitude with social cues, his anxiety, his desire to be normal, his stuttering and visible stims (Henry paces and fiddles with his fingers when he's got too much energy, especially when excited, nervous, or frightened), and yes, his fixation on comics. That's all great stuff to pull on for him as an autist.

However...He’s not obsessed with psychology. He doesn’t experiment on his family or treat them like guinea pigs. That never once comes up in TFS, and we have no concrete proof of his intentions via filmed canon. In fact, in TFS, he’d rather not be behaving the way he does. A lot of his negative behaviors come from the Mindflayer. It’s specifically pointed out multiple times throughout the show that he does not want to hurt or scare anyone. If you’d read the wealth Henry character analyses that go with the screenshots you lifted, you’d know that.

I’d appreciate if my work wasn’t used in association with takes that make unsupported claims about Henry’s personality and motivations, especially when those claims are negative...and especially when those negative claims are directly attributed to autism.

Now, If we’re talking TFS and young Henry…he's lonely, but he does have friends. He has Patty Newby, first and foremost, but he also has most of the Hawkins High drama club (notably Joyce) on his side…to the point where he opens up to Joyce about some of the pain and frustration he’s feeling after he escapes Brenner/after the Creel murders.

As for the 4.07 monologue, it needs to be understood that: a) that speech can’t be taken at face value just by virtue of it being in NINA (Let alone all the other evidence of film doctoring that’s present in that sequence, another set of analyses that's present on the accounts those screenshots were lifted from) b) if we did take the monologue at face value…all his frustrations are colored by twenty years of psychological and physical abuse in an MKULTRA program designed by ordinary humans. He has every reason to hate the world, but it has very little to do with his autism. “Henry’s” dislike for humanity is not an innate feature, and it’s not a product of a fixation on psychology. It's an artifact of his mistreatment.

Young Henry didn’t hate the world, society, or humans. He was idealistic, and he wanted the world to be better because he was scared, set apart, and ultimately abandoned…which is exactly what we hear in the monologue (albeit with a darker twist) when he tells El he wants to reshape the world. Per TFS, Henry was also under direct influence of the Mindflayer, which may or may not carry on to have a huge role in the events of 4.07…especially “Henry’s” perception of both humanity and his own past.

Henry is absolutely a textbook autistic boy. There’s no doubt about that. But he’s not the boy you’ve presented here, and I’d really appreciate if my screenshots weren’t used to push this viewpoint.

Thanks.

Hi Tumblr welcome to my Ted talk ( I am autistic myself )

[c-c-cherry]

What's the most embarrassing thing each of the Bucci gang has done/has had happen to them?

Ok I took WAY too long on this but I loved this question so much and it was so fun coming up with these. Special thanks to my girl @jjadegreen for helping me!!

**This isn’t NSFW but I’d say its teen and up just because of some of the stuff talked about hehe**

______________________

Mista

-Pre-canon Mista was a bit sick one night so Bruno made him stay home while they all went on this one mission

-So naturally he’s like “HELL YEAH HOME ALONE”

-Bruno forgets his wallet and had to come back a little while later to get it and walks in on him wearing the following:

One of Abbacchio’s signature goth dress robe thing

Like 12 of Bruno’s barrettes all sticking to the top of his head

Fugo’s tie

Narancia’s bandana

All while BLASTING K-Pop at full volume in the living room. And our man is INTO IT. This isn’t just some radio coincidence shit, he was SCREAMING the lyrics. He owns the CDs.

-Bucciarati LOSES IT. Mista has never been so mortified in his life and Bruno has never laughed so hard in his life.

-He promises not to tell the rest of the gang but tells him it’s officially blackmail material

-They never speak of it again but at Christmas Mista opens Bruno’s gift and it's a brand new K-pop CD and everyone thinks its just a gag gift but like

-He definitely listens to it later alone in his room

Bucciarati

Bruno Bucciarati does not get drunk for two main reasons:

He blacks out every time

He’s an absolute lightweight

-The last time Bruno got absolutely piss drunk, he was with Abbacchio and it wasn’t even funny. It was just surreal because Bucciarati never lets himself go to such an extent

-For whatever reason Bruno is like “hey I never drink we should go to the bar or something” after a successful mission

-Even though the legal age of drinking is technically 16 in Italy they leave “the kids” home to watch mean girls or some shit

-Mista tags along too because he’s worried Bruno will get drunk and spill about the unfortunate “K-pop incident”

-My man Bruno drank like two beers and was immediately GONE like he got up and got lost in the bar after way too many drinks and ran into a drag Queen with Abbacchio’s hair

-Said drag queen became Bruno Bucciarati’s new drinking buddy

-He stumbles over to the karaoke contest and gets onstage and grabs the shitty bar mic and screams “THIS GOES OUT TO LEONE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MWUA TWO YEARS HONEY~” and Mista is just like 👁👄👁

-Because uhhh they have literally been together for two years but everyone in the gang just thinks its a weird on/off thing because they never talk about it

-He sings dancing queen because its by ABBA and both Leone and Mista are fucking screaming with laughter and Abbacchio is filming the entire goddamn thing

-He buys the entire bar drinks they all love him so much

-Afterwards Leone tries to get them home so he leaves them outside while he takes a piss and when he walks back out THEY ARE GONE.

-Mista thought it would be a perfect time for them to get tattoos because his fucking capo is drunk off his ass and there is no better time

-Mista gets these two giant smoking guns on his back and his ass is in SO MUCH PAIN afterward that he leaves Bruno alone while he’s picking out his tattoo to get ice cream

-When he comes back Bruno has a tattoo ON HIS LEFT FOOT THAT SAYS “Never don’t give up.” The tattoo people tried to correct him but he insisted

-Abba finds them and is just like “jesus god” and takes them all to a hotel because there is no way in hell he’s taking them back home like this

-The next morning Bruno remembers absolutely NOTHING and as the gang admires Mista’s giant tattoo they ask if Bruno got one too and he’s like “god no I’m not that irresponsible”

-As soon as they’re alone Abba’s like “you got one on the bottom of your foot” and you can just see the moment Bucciarati’s soul leaves his body

Fugo

-Ok so if y’all didn’t know Fugo literally canonically wears a thong

-This isn’t sexualizing him (also I am indeed a minor don’t harass me) it's just a fact of life. You do you Fugo.

-So he sneaks out of the house once in a while and goes shopping for them cause our man’s gotta live, you know?

-He pops in the underwear store one day and you wanna know who he fucking passes by in the lingerie section?

-Bruno fucking Bucciarati.

-Which isn’t exactly a surprise considering he’s wearing visible lingerie in his tiddy window outfit but like

-That’s like running into your dad at femboy hooters

-Much to his dismay, the man spots him immediately and there’s just this...awkward silence as Fugo is holding this shopping basket of underwear and Bruno is holding the raunchiest piece of clothing he’s ever seen in his life

-They never talk about it again. Fugo finds a different store.

Abbacchio

-The most mortifying moment Abbacchio can live to remember is the first time he told Bucciarati that he loved him

-Pre-canon, our man is NOT having a vibing time

-He gets absolutely wasted with while Bruno’s at his apartment

-He’s the most miserable drunk, so he’s just fucking sobbing and Bucci is sitting there trying to console him and Abbacchio just looks up at him with tears streaking down his face and says “I’m in love with you” and the look on Bruno’s face just makes him feel even more miserable

-The entire night he keeps blubbering about how much he loves him and how much he means to him and how beautiful he is and the entire time Bruno is doing that thing where he tries to cover his face with his hand because our man is mega FLUSTERED up in here

-When he wakes up he remembers EVERYTHING and he wished he didn’t because then maybe he would be able to say that he didn’t mean it

-Bruno is surprisingly just like “Did you really mean it?” and he can’t lie so he just tells the truth and he’s just nonchalantly like “me too”

-Bruno thinks it’ll be a nice wedding story and Abbacchio no longer wants to live on this planet

Narancia

-Mista and Narancia are vibing in the living room one night and Nara tells Mista to grab his gameboy from upstairs

-He says its under his pillow (or else Bruno will take it away every night hehe)

-But you wanna know what else is under Narancia’s pillow? His Diary. No, it’s not a journal or just a blank book, Mista finds a book titled DIARY.

-And the shit in there is priceless.

“Bucciarati is sooo cool. I tried cutting my hair like his, but it didn’t really work. I think I gotta wear this hat for the next couple weeks. Shit. Fuck. If someone takes it off, I’m so fucked.”

“I clogged up the toilet yesterday and was too scared to tell Abba, so I just flushed it again but then the water wouldn’t stop flooding everywhere so I used Aerosmith to explode the toilet and told Abba that it was a stand attack. He believed me. If ANYONE ever finds out, I’m dead.”

“HOLY SHIT. I swallowed a tide pod yesterday and freaked out so I made Giorno turn it into a grape in my stomach with his stand. I almost DIED. But I didn’t so I’m over it. If Giorno ever tells anyone, I’ll kill him.”

-Narancia realizes about ten minutes after Mista left that HOLY SHIT HIS DIARY

-he finds Mista three quarters way through it and gives him $50 not to tell anyone about it.

-The shame never leaves, though

Trish

-Jade gave me a cute headcanon that Trish’s mom was still only teaching her how to properly put on makeup before she died (it's not like there was youtube or anything to teach her either) so our girl Trish only knows the basics

-She puts on lip gloss and blush and mascara and stuff but she’s never even TOUCHED eyeliner and rarely puts on eyeshadow. She doesn’t even wear concealer most of the time (she honestly doesn’t even need to, her skin is baby soft smooth)

-So long story short she kind of misses her mom and remembers how her mom was going to teach her a smokey eye before she died and is determined to teach it to herself now

-So she pulls a little heist and snatches some of Abbacchio’s makeup while they’re all out doing stuff

-She was not prepared for how heavy this shit was. She was used to the lighter, more natural stuff but Abba’s makeup is EXTREME.

-All of his stuff is waterproof so it doesn’t wash off while he’s crying at 3am and it’s just this—dark, heavy stuff.

-She actually hasn’t used a thick, real tube of lipstick before, only those little gloss tubes with the stick because she has smaller lips so when she crouches over with a small makeup mirror in fear of anyone somehow walking in on her and smears Abbacchio’s thick, dark purple lipstick on her lips, she knew she was absolutely fucked. She has no idea how to do this shit, especially not with dark, heavy goth makeup

-The smokey eye does not work. It’s just smeared eyeshadow EVERYWHERE, it looks like she has two giant, awful, black eyes and her first attempt at eyeliner was just—unspeakably horrible

-She has no idea where to start so she just puts on way too much of absolutely everything and immediately regrets it the moment she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror

-Abba comes home early and immediately realizes that some of his makeup is gone and he knows it has to be Trish

-He walks upstairs to confront her but just hears loud, ugly sobbing coming from her room and bursts in only to find her desperately trying to wipe off layers of caked-on water-proof makeup and absolutely failing

-The two of them spend all night taking it off all while Trish is still crying teary apologies to him

-To add in some wholesome Dadbacchio, he teaches her how to properly put everything on the next day <3

Giorno

-Some people forget that as a 15 year old, Giorno sometimes has absolutely no impulse control

-So when Polnareff tells him that he’s the spitting image of his evil, murderous, vampire dad he’s immediately like “haha well I’m gonna go dye my hair now”

-Everyone had something to do that day/night so Giorno waltzes over to the nearest drug store and grabs one of those at-home dying kits (he got dark green cause he thought it would look cool with his new outfit)

-He gets home and has absolutely no idea what he’s doing so he just thinks it’ll work out somehow

-Soooo yeah he does NOT put it in properly at all, he just kind of takes the shit and slathers it all over his hair and doesn’t do his roots and doesn’t put it up and leaves it dripping down his back and stuff and his stupid ass FALLS ASLEEP with the hair dye in

-He wakes up and the sheets are this really awful light green colour but he doesn’t pay any mind to it

-He looks in the mirror and from the front it actually looks good and he gets all excited and decides to wash it out

-When he gets out of the shower it’s this awful disgusting light light ugly green and he almost cries. Almost.

-It looks like someone dunked him in that Nickelodeon slime and he looks at the package and it says the dye will stay in for at least 3 weeks and there aRE TEARY EYES

-He spends the next hour in the shower trying to wash it out. It does not wash out.

-Utterly defeated with his hair matted and donuts practically falling apart, he stumbles over to his room and tries to wash the sheets covered in slime-coloured hair dye which *surprise!!!* doesn’t wash out either!

-He must dispose of the evidence, but of COURSE they’re out of garbage bags so he shoves all the dye kit stuff and the sheets into a mafia body bag and chucks it by the garbage can outside without a single thought

-Which he SHOULD have had a single thought about it, because when they get home and Narancia spots the body bag he’s like “holy shit guys I think Giorno killed someone while we were out”

-So they all panically pop into the house and cautiously try to find Giorno. Fugo finally finds him pacing around his room in the dark and when he flicks on the lights HO-LY SHIT.

-Fugo obviously bursts out into laughter and Bruno books it up the stairs and also starts cackling and Narancia is like “OH MY GOD YOU KILLED SOMEONE LOOKING LIKE THAT?!” and Giorno has to explain to them that the body bag is filled with stained bedsheets (much to his embarrassment)

-Abbacchio takes so many pictures and Giorno is having a nervous breakdown because he cannot live with his hair looking like this

-Bruno makes Abba fix it the next morning and he loves every second of Giorno’s mortification

-The pictures Abbacchio took of that night are framed next to the pictures of Bruno’s wasted karaoke night in his room

______________________

Thank you for the ask, anon!! I’m absolutely exhausted now haha so I’ll scroll through the rest of the asks when I wake up!!

[bigheartedsky]

Next Life

Pairings: idol!Yoongi x fan!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff; one shot

Word Count: 5.6k+

Warnings: none that I can think of..?

Summary: When a stranger in a bookstore starts talking to you about book recommendations and slips you his number, you finally feel like you found the one. Even though you could only see his eyes, the rest of his face covered by a cap and mask, it was like lightning went through your body. But will it really work out or does your little love story have more surprises for you than you thought?

a/n: this is one story I had in my head for years actually since I’ve always wondered what it would be like to meet them randomly. I’m a realist so in my eyes it wouldn’t go that smoothly so here you have a very angsty, but also fluffy story~ thanks to my lovely beta reader @yeontanismypresident​ for proof reading again! You’re a huge help since English isn’t my first language and I’m always glad to hear feedback!! 

Masterlist

“We still have an hour before boarding starts.” Your best friend checked her watch while you came to a halt in the middle of the waiting area.

“Do you want to grab something to eat or drink? I’m actually really craving a coffee.” She added while looking around, but your focus was already on a quite different place that had nothing to do with food. Alex followed your eyes before sighing and chuckling. The chuckle brought your attention to her and you remembered that she had just asked you something.

“Sorry. Food sounds good. Would you mind if I-“

“Went to the bookstore before?” your friend grinned, finishing your sentence and you gave her a sheepish smile, apologizing with your eyes. “Sure, go ahead. I’ll save you a place at the Starbucks over there. I know you can’t keep away from books anyways so no surprise there. No wonder you work at a bookstore.”

You followed with your eyes where she was pointing at before nodding and smiling. That same smile on your lips, you entered the bookstore, taking in the familiar smell of new books and magazines.

Which one of you should I add to my collection this time…? I need something to read on the flight anyways.

You let your fingers gently stroke the top of the books while walking past them until one of them caught your interest. Reading through the description on the back, you didn’t notice how someone was slowly approaching you.

“That one is boring.” A male voice said right next to you - although it seemed more like he mumbled it to himself rather than actually directing it at you. You looked around confused, making sure you were the one he meant. He stood right next to you, skimming the books you both were standing in front of, and grabbing one of them to check it before laying it back on the pile.

“Excuse me?” he looked at you for a second, eyes meeting yours, and you felt for a second as if the whole world stood still. It was like a lightning that went through your whole body to find home right where your heart is. You never felt like this before in your life.

Is that what love at first sight feels like? you wondered while still staring at him. You’ve always been a romantic, but very realistic person, which made you like that thought, but at the same time shake it off immediately.

This was so weird.

He held your gaze for a second, before looking back to the book in your hands and tapping on it. He was wearing all black and his face was barely visible due to a cap and mask – both black as well. His hands were really pretty, you noticed while he tapped the book in your hands for a moment, with slender, long fingers, making you wonder what it would feel like to hold them.

What the hell is happening to me? I haven’t said three words to him yet I’m fantasising about holding his hands?? I need to read less romantic novels.

“This one is boring.” His words pulled you back into reality.

“It’s well written but the plot is not well thought out and the ending is very unsatisfying. The character development is underwhelming as well. There are better things to choose.” He explained in such a nonchalant way, it almost made you smile. Cocking your head to the side curiously, you stared at him for a second before putting the book back.

“Okay. Suggest one to me then.” His eyes met yours again after saying that. He looked surprised but it only lasted a second before he started looking around.

Somehow, I feel really comfortable with him. He seems so familiar the way he’s speaking. As if I’ve known him for years.

You got pulled back into reality when he suddenly started walking towards one of the shelfs, taking one book and reaching it out to give to you without a word. Looking down you read the title out loud.

“The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. I’m impressed.” You looked up at him grinning. “That’s a really good choice. A classic and to your luck I haven’t read this one yet.”

Was that a smile coming up to his eyes? It’s hard to see through the mask, but I think it was. Cute…

He cleared his throat before looking around again and then back at you.

“What about you?” he suddenly asked, ears glowing red. You looked at him confused for a moment until he added almost impatiently. “A book you would recommend me.”

“Oh! Uhm… let me think.” Your eyes start roaming all the books in the store. It was your job but still, sometimes it took quite some time for you to recommend books to people you just met. But then one book caught your eye that never failed to make you smile. You weren’t sure if it was his style, but because your own experience reading it was so special, you chose to recommend it anyways.

“Here, Into the Magic Shop by Dr. James Doty. I don’t know if this is the kind you like to read, but personally it helped me a lot when I was feeling down so… yea.” You slowly felt yourself blush and grow nervous the more you tried to explain to him why you recommend it.

“Someone once recommended it to me telling me that it holds the key to creating your life the way you want it to be without dying due to stress or overthinking. It made me change my perspective on work and life itself and rethink my life choices a lot.” He looked at the book nodding. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw you chose this one at first but when you finished explaining he forgot all his worries and just accepted the offer. His eyes darted to the price tags of both books you had chosen for each other and after a moment of thought he gave you “Into the Magic Shop”.

“Pay this for me.” He said shortly before turning to go to the register to pay for the book he had chosen for you. You stood there dumbfounded for a second before quickly following him to pay too. After he finished paying, he stood at the other end of the register and did something you couldn’t quite see with the book while waiting for you to finish too. After you finished, he held out the book for you with one hand, and his free hand to receive the one for himself. You traded the books and you couldn’t help the smile on your face, especially as his fingers lingered on yours for the briefest moment while trading them, electricity and warmth running through your body and making you blush. You hoped with everything in you that he felt the same things you did.

“Thank you.” You said smiling from ear to ear. Your heart was beating a little faster and you felt like a teenager crushing hard on a stranger right now. The smile was tugging on his eyes again and you could see that he was fighting it a little.

Should I ask for his number? I don’t think I can live without seeing him again. I would definitely regret it. Okay here I go!

But just as you were about to ask him for his contacts, his voice cut off your attempt before it even began.

“Keep it safe for me, okay? See you.” And with that he turned and walked out of your view before you could say anything further. At first you felt regret but then another feeling spread throughout your body instead - confusion and hope.

See you?

Somehow the promise of these two words made you smile even more. You looked down at the book, noticing now that this one was way more expensive than the one you paid. Your eyes darted to the place you had last seen him but he was already gone.

He took the more expensive one on purpose... You started feeling all warm and fuzzy thinking about this small gesture.

Packing the book in a safe spot in your bag, you started making your way to the Starbucks. Of course, Alex started complaining a little about you taking way longer than normal, but that made her have an excuse to get another one of her favorite Frappuccino’s, which she definitely wasn’t angry about. You still don’t know why but you didn’t immediately start telling her about the handsome bookstore stranger. Well, you thought he was handsome due to his eyes being on show – and very pretty – but you weren’t really sure what he looked like. You didn’t even know his name and still here you were daydreaming about that moment over and over again while somewhat listening to your best friend talking about her favorite TV show at the moment.

“Good afternoon passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 713B to London. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes time. Thank you.”

Hearing the announcement, you slowly started packing up your stuff to leave for your gate, knowing it is still quite a walk.

“Wouldn’t it be crazy to meet one of the BTS members randomly at the airport today?”

“It would be. But it would also be highly unlikely.” You laughed at your friend’s enthusiasm for that imagine.

“I mean, it’s not that unlikely! Think about it. They had concerts here on Monday and Tuesday. Today is Friday and tomorrow will be their concert in London.” Alex paused for a second to calm herself down from knowing she would see them live in less than 48 hours from now. “It’s not that unlikely for them to fly to London today!”

“But it’s unlikely for them to wait here with all the normal passengers for their private jet.” You scoffed but still you found yourself wondering what it would be like to actually run into them.

I just hope I would treat them normally. Best thing would be if I don’t even recognize it’s them until later. Don’t wanna scare them away...

You laughed a little at your own thought while taking out your boarding pass and passport.

You waited for the plane to be all the way up in traveling height before you took out the book the stranger bought you. You couldn’t help the smile on your face while looking at it, thanking god for distracting your friend with the on-board movie program so she didn’t notice. Opening it you flicked through it with your finger sliding over the side of the pages. You loved the feeling and sound it made when you flicked through all the pages of a book. Used to seeing the photobooks of K-pop albums stop at a specific page, with a photocard in between, you weren’t surprised at first when it happened with this book too, but when it hit you that this shouldn’t happen with a normal book your heart rate immediately picked up. You took out the piece of paper stuck between the pages to unfold it.

[When I saw you today, I felt like I walked into my Magic Shop. Tell me if you like the book.

+82 36 XXXX YYYY

-       Min]

So, his name was Min?

You smiled to yourself when suddenly your best friend exclaimed.

“Someone snuck you their number????” you blushed and shushed her, looking around apologetically to the people around you. Sometime while you were reading the message, she must’ve looked at you and seen the message. Not being able to hide anything anymore, you start telling her about everything that happened, and even though you were the one with a huge crush, she seemed more excited than you. You had to promise her to message him right after you guys landed, which you didn’t mind since the relief you felt knowing you can contact him anytime now made you all giddy and impatient for the plane to finally arrive at its destination.

“Who knows where this guy is from! You said he had a Korean accent, but does he really live in Korea? You never know where people live even if they have an accent. Our world is so globalized that you can basically live in Italy as a Chinese person and have half Swedish parents! Anything is possible.” Alex was at this since you finished telling her the story.

“I don’t know. But I hope I’ll find out.” You simply said before you started to dive into the world of The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.

[12:56 AM – Y/N]

[Hey Min! This is the girl from the Bookstore. I started reading The Alchemist on my flight to London and so far, I really like it. Thank you for the recommendation.]

[01:34 PM – Min]

[I’m glad you like it. How was your flight? And I need your name so that I can save you.]

[01:35PM – Y/N]

[My name is Y/N and my flight was good. How was yours? Or are you still waiting for the boarding?]

[01:36PM - Min]

[We arrived a few minutes ago, too. Your book is not bad as well, btw.]

[…]

“Are you still texting with Min?” Alex asked grabbing herself a plate at the breakfast buffet of your hotel.

“Yea. We’ve been talking all night about music and books and somehow lost track of time. We have a lot in common and I honestly feel good about this. Everything is so easy and just falls into place.” You blush, telling your friend about the things you talked about.

“And you won’t believe it, but he’s actually in London as well. Says he has some work to do here before flying somewhere else. And he asked if I want to meet up the day after tomorrow with him.”

“But our flight back leaves tomorrow.” Alex frowns at you, unhappy with how your love story isn’t exactly like the fairytales, where everything turns out perfectly.

“I know. I told him that as well so he asked me to meet tonight after he’s done working…”

“Oh my god!! You have to go! Please tell me you’re going.” You sighed.

“Honestly, I really really want to. But our plane leaves so early we have to get back to the hotel immediately after the concert to start packing and leave for the airport. You know that our schedule is too tight for extra trips.”

Your friend was suddenly very quiet, making you look up from the buffet in front of you and at her. She looked deep in thought, looking at the eggs as if her life depended on the decision between boiled or scrambled egg. Then all of a sudden Alex exclaimed, making you almost drop your plate in surprise.

“How about we pack everything now and I’ll ask the taxi driver to pick you up at the spot where your lover boy wants to meet you! You could spend some time with him then and I’ll get our luggage and pick you up with the taxi later. It’s perfect! You just have to pick a spot that’s not too far away from Wembley.” You thought about her words for a long time, running the numbers if it was really possible to do or not.

“Okay. I’ll ask where he wants to meet.” You started smiling while typing the question in your message bar.

The BTS concert that evening was far more than just amazing. It was wonderful. You were absolutely stunned with how good they actually were live, having only seen them on screens or listen to their songs digitally. You were so excited and talkative after the concert that you almost forgot your date with Min for a second. You quickly made your way to the bathrooms, changing into something that wasn’t drenched in sweat and putting your other clothes in a bag for Alex to take with her. You checked yourself in the mirror one last time before jogging out to Alex.

“If we hurry up, we can see them leave the hall before you have your date. I heard that they leave while everyone is busy looking at the fireworks and my friend – who works here – told me where the exit for the stars is.”

You didn’t really want to be one of the fans who stalked their idols but you thought that just watching them leave the building from far away wouldn’t hurt, since many fans did this. And just as you wondered if others knew about the exit too, you were greeted by a crowd of people on the stairs in front of you. They were all waiting for someone coming out of the one exit in view to say a final goodbye. Instead of squeezing yourself on the stairs with the others, Alex pulled you over to the other side where a small balcony-like structure, that was somewhat hidden if you looked in its direction from the stairs, had an even better view on the exit.

And then they came out. You could see them all clearly, being not too far away but also not too close to them. Two huge black vans pulled over for the members to get in. You were excited to see them one last time until one person came into view.

All in black with a black cap and a black mask, holding a book in his hand that you could even identify from where you were standing at. Your thoughts were racing.

Min…? Min… No way…

You pulled out your phone as quickly as you could, dialing his number with shaking hands and waiting for him to pick up. You prayed it wasn’t the man in front of your eyes, knowing exactly what that would mean for your growing relationship with him. But there he was, pulling out his phone and greeting you while making his way to the car, about to get in.

“Sorry, I’m running a little late. Are you already there-?” he stopped when he heard your quiet and breathy response.

“Min…Yoongi…?” his head shot up, meeting your eyes immediately. Tears were swelling in your eyes.

No… why… why does it have to be you?

You turned and just ran, ending the call - a faint call of your name ringing in your ear - and putting it back in your bag. Alex needed a second before she realized what was happening. She waited until Yoongi got in the car – hesitating and staring after you for quite a while – before she tried to catch up with you. Which she did since Alex has always been the sporty one while you were the bookworm in your friendship.

“Y/N! Whoa whoa whoa, stop!!” your friend ran around you, making you stop by standing right in front of you and grabbing your arms gently. “What just happened there?”

“It’s him! M-Min is- He is-“

“Min Yoongi…? Wow, didn’t see that one coming.” Alex replied quietly, almost to herself.

“But what the hell are you doing, running away instead of going to the place you guys are supposed to meet??” she stared at you intently trying to get some sense into you.

“He’s an idol, Alex! And I’m his fan. This can’t work out. The entertainment, the fans, the members… they won’t just sit there and watch us become a couple.” you were panicking completely.

“Okay you have a point there, but you still have to talk to him about this. You can’t just run away from this without giving him a chance at all. Please, Y/N. Go to your meeting spot.” You looked into the eyes of your best friend, unsure of what to do. You felt insecure. Every single flaw that you saw in yourself was suddenly even more obvious than before.

“What if he doesn’t show up?” you asked timidly.

“Then he’s an asshole that doesn’t deserve you.” You smiled a little at that, especially since you knew he was Alex’s bias and she would never actually think of him as an asshole.

You weren’t far away from the bridge he wanted to meet on. With every step you took, your heart started beating faster and louder. Your whole body was shaking, wondering if he was going to show up or not. You turned around the corner, the bridge coming into view, slowly making your way on top of it. It was a bridge only for pedestrians and it wasn’t surprising to see it almost empty due to it being past midnight. As soon as you arrived the beginning of the bridge on your side of the small river, you could make out a person standing in the middle of it, leaning on the railing with his head resting in his hands. He looked distressed.

Your heart was beating like crazy and when you were just a few steps away he suddenly looked at you. You both paused and your rapid heartbeat slowed down immediately. His presence had a calming effect on you, which you would have never expected in this situation. He was still wearing his cap but he took off the mask, holding it tightly in his fist.

Silence.

You stared at each other both weighing what would be the best thing to say. You could see his struggle with the right words so instead of letting him suffer more, you started.

“Sorry for calling you with such a bad timing.” You smiled sadly, walking up to him and joining him in leaning your hands on the railing too. You left a small space in between just to make sure he wasn’t getting uncomfortable.

“So, you’re an ARMY?” he asked simply, not letting any emotions show.

“Yea, I am.” You could see him nod.

“Did you know it was me?” his jaw clenched at the thought of you maybe knowing and not telling him.

“Do you really think I would’ve reacted this way today if I knew?” you looked at him questioning if he even thought about his words before asking this. It made you angry that he actually thought you could do something like this. But then again you knew each other for a little more than a day so you couldn’t really judge him for it.

“I had to ask.”

“Sorry. Of course, you would be leery of someone you barely know.” You apologized after considering his point of view.

Silence again.

A shiver was running down your body. It got really cold now compared to the warm weather during daytime and you wished you had kept on your BTS jacket instead of giving it to Alex to take to the hotel with her. A shirt and skirt really weren’t appropriate for weather like this. You suddenly felt something heavy on your shoulders and immediately warmth spread throughout your body. You grabbed at the fabric of the long black coat Yoongi was just wearing seconds ago, that was now placed on your shoulders to warm you instead.

“Won’t you feel cold? If you get sick everyone will be sad.” You quickly told him wanting to give the jacket back.

“I rarely get sick and was feeling warm anyways. Also…” he pauses to look at you for a moment before looking in the distance again. “if you get sick, I’ll be sad.”

You blushing would be an understatement. You were completely speechless just simply staring at his side profile. He was avoiding to look at you at any cost.

“I mean, you are our fan after all. And ARMYs are everything to us.”

“Ah… right.” A bittersweet feeling spread in you. You were glad he was kind to you, but sad because he was now only seeing you as a fan and not as a woman anymore. Biting your lower lip, you assembled all your confidence to finally say the words tormenting you.

“If it’s uncomfortable for you we can stop talking. I’m not gonna stalk you or spread your number. If you want, I’ll delete everything and throw away the note right here.”

Please say no please say no please say no

“I think that’s the best for both of us.” A sharp pain hit your heart right when you heard him say those words. You just nod and take out your phone with shaking hands. Tears gather in your eyes and you can’t see anything on your screen, nor can you type anything. His hand suddenly wraps around yours, phone still inside. You look up at him and – are those tears in his eyes?

“But I don’t want to do it.” He added to his last statement.

“Yoongi…” you turn to face him. “Just think about it. This can’t work. You work in Korea as an idol and I’m a simple bookshop worker here. You’re on watch 24/7 and I don’t want to be the cause of your first scandal. I don’t want to be the reason you get a bad image and have to struggle with bad comments. I don’t want you to get hurt because of –“

He pulled you to his chest, not caring that his coat fell off your shoulders in the process and just held you there.

“Me too.” he whispered into your shoulder. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Wrapping your hands around him you cried into his chest, knowing that the guy you felt like could finally be the one, is the only one you could actually never call your own.

You stayed like this until you calmed down and after a long time of talking you both decided that, if you want the other to stay safe, the best thing would be to stop this before it even begins. You deleted his number in front of his eyes, including all messages and took out the piece of paper that started all of this.

“I can’t throw this out. Can you please just take it with you? It’s too precious to me.” You put it in his hand, closing it around the piece of paper. He nodded and you smiled sadly while a taxi pulled up at the end of the bridge honking. You both looked at the cab in question.

“That’s me.” You looked back at him taking off his coat, that was wrapped around your shoulders again and put it around his’ instead. You gave him a shy kiss on his cheek while you leaned in looking at him sadly one last time.

“Maybe if we’ll meet again in our next life it will work out… us meeting as equals.”  he held your hand tightly while you said that. He didn’t want to let you go and he was wishing right then and there that you could just come with him and be his little secret. But he knew that it was selfish so instead he did the only thing that made him feel somewhat better about everything.

You heard another honk from the taxi, followed by your friend calling your name because the time was running out.

“I have to go.” You told him wanting to let go of his hand but he held you in place now fiddling with one of his silver bracelets he was wearing. It was a simple bracelet on the chunkier side, more of a design made for male customers. He put it on your wrist quickly as if it was a promise.

“Until next life.” He said to underline the wordless promise he just gave to you. You started tearing up again before finally making your way to the cab quickly. You practically ran to prevent losing yourself in your feelings completely.

As soon as you got in the car it started driving. You stared out the window, vaguely able to make out Yoongis form as he put the silver ring you always wore on his pinky finger. You slipped it into his hand as soon as he finished putting the bracelet on your wrist. As his figure became blurred with increasing distance, your heart started aching more and more. By the time you arrived at the airport you were breaking apart – your friend’s arms were the only thing holding you together.

The last months were pure torture. You never experienced such a bad heartbreak before, and you didn’t even understand why you felt such a deep connection with someone you actually only talked to for roughly two days. He was the one, and you knew you wouldn’t find anyone that could take his place. He was perfect for you, but you let him go. It was better that way. At least that’s what you were trying to tell yourself.

“Y/N!!!!” you jumped, almost falling down the stairs of the small staircase you used to reach the higher shelves. Alex came storming into the bookstore you worked at with her phone in her hand, something playing on the screen. You’ve been daydreaming a lot ever since you came back from London, making you jump way more than usual when your best friend came in, yelling like this.

“What’s wrong, Alex?? Is someone hurt?” you looked at her in worry since normally she would never barge into your workplace like this.

“No one is hurt. Or actually I think someone is very badly hurt. Look.” She shoved her phone in your hand, and you couldn’t help the pain you felt when you saw what was playing on the screen. It was a live stream on Vapp and greeting you there was none other than Yoongi.

He looks so tired… Does he sleep well?

“Why are you showing this to me?” you asked her, feeling the sharp pain in your heart again.

“Listen to what he’s saying! I’m not sure if I understood everything correctly but I think he’s talking about you!”

You looked around unsure of what to do before you took the headphone from your best friend and started listening intently to what he was saying in korean. Your Korean was actually quite good, having spent way too much time to learn more of it as a distraction over the last 2 months.

“…yes, so as said that person, I met her at the airport and she recommended this book to me. She told me it helped her a lot with stressing less in life and made her rethink her choices in life. And, well, it honestly has the same effect on me now. I’ve been wondering what is the most important thing in my life right now and I’m thankful to her for giving me such a good life lesson.” He started playing with a silver ring on his pinky.

My ring… Your hand went to the bracelet around your wrist immediately.

“I came to the conclusion that if I keep pushing things that I want to do to a different time, it’s no good. And damn, ‘next life’ is so far away.”

Your heart rate picked up immediately. You couldn’t believe what you heard. Everyone was confused to what he exactly meant by that statement but he didn’t answer any of the questions. Instead he just stared blankly, thinking hard, for a moment.

“Sorry for this abrupt ending but I’m going to end the vlive here. I have something to do. Don’t skip your meals, it can weaken your immune system. Don’t catch a cold. Thank you, everyone and see you later.” And with that the vlive suddenly ended.

“What happened?” your best friend asked when you gave her the phone back.

“He said he had something to do and suddenly ended the live. But before that he said that I quote: ‘next life is so far away’” you looked at Alex with big eyes. Having explained to her what went down on the bridge two months ago, she immediately knew what that meant.

���You don’t think he meant-“ She stopped talking as soon as you both heard your phone start ringing. Your heart was beating like crazy and even though you tried to tell yourself not to get excited or have any expectations, you did either way. Looking at your mobile phone screen you saw a number that wasn’t saved in your phone. A Korean mobile phone number.

You answered the phone with a simple greeting because you knew immediately who was on the other end.

“I can’t wait until fucking next life.”

His voice was calm but you could hear the desperation and pure exhaustion in it. Tears started gathering in your eyes, not even sparing a second before rolling down your face. You couldn’t help the sob that left your mouth.

“You were supposed to delete my number! Calls from overseas are expensive!” you sobbed into your phone.

“I don’t care. I’m going to pay the bill for you. Just tell me – honestly – if you feel the same way.” You sobbed again. Alex looked at you with a compassionate smile, knowing exactly why you reacted the way you did. It pained him to hear you cry so much, and it made him tear up himself. Even if he wasn’t the type to cry easily, hearing you cry just had that effect on him.

“Please, don’t cry, Y/N. I’m not going to call again, just please stop crying.”

“N-NO! I’m so glad you called… I-I’m sorry for crying. I’m just s-so happy…” you tried sounding as normal as possible, but you just couldn’t avoid the hiccups here and there. “I was hoping every day that you would call. I was so stupid back then. Please forgive me, I can’t wait until next life either!”

The next things you hear are just a big exhale, a chuckle and sniffles.

Is he crying, too? You wondered, hearing him speak a second later.

“Okay, now that that’s settled. Who is going to visit who first?”

Masterlist

a/n: I hope you enjoyed reading!! If you liked this story don’t be shy and just tell me! If you guys liked it I would be willing to write a second part. But only if you insist... (jk I would be thrilled if you wanted a second part). You can also check out my other stories if you like~

[ellewritesathing]

(Un)Requited  -  I.L.  I

Summary: Isaac Lahey had gone through many twists and turns in his life, but none of them compared to the whiplash he got when you asked him to tutor you. With a few weeks until the end of the semester and the big dance coming up, he’s hoping to figure out a way to ask you to go with him before it’s too late.

Masterlist Part 1 | Next

Word-count: 1.5k+

A/N: so i don’t have an uploud schedule for this series yet but i wanted to post something teen wolf related since i was a flake and didn’t have the next part of So Close written. happy reading!!

Isaac Lahey had known you his whole life. The two of you had been going to the same schools and sharing at least one class a day almost as long as he could remember. Plus, until they split high school, your older brother and Camden were best friends, which meant Isaac got to spend plenty of time with you outside of school as a byproduct. 

Until his dad's drinking got worse and it started being too difficult for Isaac to spend time with you without his dad somehow messing it up. All those cancelled and postponed plans added up and soon enough it was high school and the two of you had just drifted apart. 

So, understandably, one of the last things he ever expected after a shitty day of Coach yelling at him and getting detention for something that wasn't entirely his fault was for you to tap him on his shoulder while Isaac dug through his locker to find the one assignment that he knew he actually finished on time. 

“Uh, hi,” you smiled awkwardly when he turned around. God, he must’ve looked like a wreck if he was making you this nervous to speak to him. “I’m not really sure how to say this.” 

“Is something wrong?” he asked, straightening up and trying to seem a little more put together. If he could come across as a little less unhinged while he was at it, that would have been great but Isaac wasn't going to hold his breath.

“Kinda?” You looked down at your shoes and laughed before looking back up at him and pushing some hair out of your face in the process. “I hear that you’re acing Algebra II and, coincidentally, I happen to be failing Algebra II. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind tutoring me sometime?” 

“You want me to tutor you?” Isaac asked. If you came to him because you thought he was smart, that question might have blown any chance he had, so he added - as quickly as he could - “Uh, yeah, I could tutor you.” 

“Isaac, you’re a lifesaver,” you said, visibly relaxing and sending him another smile. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” he said. After a beat of awkward silence where he was sure you could hear his heart beating in his chest, he asked, “So should I, um, give you my number or something?” 

“Oh, yeah, that would probably help,” you laughed. “Got a pen?”

Swinging his backpack around to his front and trying not to take you stepping backwards personally, Isaac fumbled for a pen. He handed it to you with an awkward smile, and you reached for it with one hand while taking his in your other. You clicked the pen and leaned over to write your number on the back of his hand while Isaac tried not to have a panic attack. 

“There,” you said with a smile as you handed him back the pen and, sadly, let go of his hand. “Now you won’t lose it.” 

“Great,” Isaac smiled. It felt like he was holding eye contact for too long, so he looked away in an effort to concentrate on replacing his pen inside his backpack. “So I’ll text you later?”

“Better yet, you can call me,” you said. And he must have looked like an idiot when you did, because the next thing he knew you were laughing. Except it wasn’t malicious. It was like you were sharing a private joke. 

“Yeah, uh- I can do that,” Isaac said, trying to play it cool. As if that ship hadn't already sailed ...

“Then it’s a date.” 

You shot him one last smile before turning on your heel and walking away, and it took him a minute to catch his breath again. Not even a five-minute conversation with you and his childhood crush was back in full-force. 

“Any reason why you look like someone just kicked your favorite puppy?” Erica asked. 

Isaac wasn’t sure when she showed up or how long he'd been staring down an empty hallway, but - if he was honest - he didn’t really care. Looking over at her with an incredulous smile, he said, "I think I’m a math tutor now.” 

“Oh yikes. At least you're pretty good with that stuff,” Erica said with a slight nod at the end. “Anyway, are we still on for lunch or are you now fully booked, Mr. Tutor?" 

“You know, I think I can pencil you in,” Isaac said. 

“Gee, how sweet of you.”

---

Isaac couldn’t prove that you were actively trying to kill him, but the anxiety you gave him about calling you was damn near certain proof. The day had come and gone, with all its teenage angst and supernatural drama, and now he was all by himself in the loft. Alone. Without any super-hearing friends to eavesdrop. On paper, it was the perfect time to call and probably his only clear shot at trying.

But surely he should wait more than a day? That’s what they do in the movies, right? Play hard to get. But Isaac wasn’t hard to get. All you had to do was ask nicely and he’d probably do anything you said. Hell, you didn’t even have to ask nicely. You could step on him and he'd still-

But you did ask him nicely. To call you, he meant. You said he should call you. And your number was already starting to fade … Isaac took a breath, stopped pacing, and picked up his phone. He dialed the smudged number on his hand and waited for an answer. 

“Hey, Y/N?” His voice came out too loud and too forceful when the dial tones stopped. Or did he seem excited? Isaac couldn’t tell, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. “It’s Isaac.” 

“I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to call,” you said. Good thing he didn’t wait a few days, then. “Hey, I’m kidding. Don’t worry about it.” 

“How do you know if I’m worrying about it?” Isaac asked. 

“How do you know if I’m really kidding?” you asked. Your voice sounded teasing enough but Isaac wasn’t sure he was in the clear until he heard you laugh on the other end of the line. 

Isaac could almost imagine you sitting on your bed, twirling one of those old phone cords around your finger as you spoke. But that couldn’t happen. (For a number of reasons but mainly because this wasn’t the 90s and you weren’t in love with him.)

“Hey, you still there?” you asked in a quieter voice. 

“Uh, yeah,” Isaac said quickly as he started pacing again. “Sorry, just got distracted.” 

“Happens to the best of us,” you said with an imaginary shrug.

“So I thought about the tutoring thing,” Isaac said slowly, not knowing what else to say. “And I’m free on Tuesdays, if you want. I’ve got a free period that we could use.” 

“Yeah, that would be great!” He could hear you smiling as you spoke. 

“Yeah?” Why was he double-checking? This was what he wanted. “It’s fifth period.” 

“And I’ve got Algebra II in sixth,” you said. “Works perfect for me.” 

“That’s great.” 

Isaac felt the corners of his mouth turn up and his heart beat faster. Thank God the others weren’t here to hear that. 

“Yeah, uh-” you took a breath and Isaac's heart stopped. “This is the awkward part: How much do you want me to pay you?” 

His mouth turned down again. “Pay me?” 

“You know, for your time. There’s gotta be better things to do than tutor me, right?” 

Isaac wanted to tell you that no, there was absolutely nothing better to do during his Tuesday free period than spend it with you. But he didn’t. Instead, he said, “What if you helped me with something else?” 

“Well, what do you need?” There was a lilt to your voice. You were interested. The only problem was that Isaac had no idea what he needed your help with. 

“Uh …” He was stalling. If he didn’t say something soon, you’d think he was weird. “Well, the dance is coming up.” 

“Yeah?” 

“And I want to impress this girl.” 

“And you need me to …?” 

“Teach me how to impress her?” 

It sounded like a question, mostly because it was a question. Was it the right response? Isaac didn’t even know if you still took dance classes. You did when you were like seven, but everyone does stuff at seven that they don’t do at seventeen. 

“Oh,” you said. There was movement on your side that he could only hear because the line was so quiet. “Yeah, I’d love to.” 

It worked? 

“Great!” He sounded too excited again. Shifting back to his normal voice, Isaac added, “Okay, so tutoring in exchange for life coaching?” 

“Sounds perfect.” You didn’t sound so playful anymore. Did he mess something up? Probably. “I guess I’ll see you at school then.” 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I guess.” 

“Bye.” Neither of you hung up. “And Isaac?” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s good to spend time with you again.” 

And then you hung up. 

It was official: You were definitely trying to kill him. But Isaac didn’t seem to mind.

Part 2

Tagged: @ietss​

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Did It Hurt?” - Oneshot

“Did It Hurt?” - Oneshot

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Word Count: 2,262

Key: Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, Talk about violence

Summary: Lucifer finally tells you the truth about his scars.

Author’s Note: I’ve been wanting to do Lucifer fics for awhile, and this idea slowly worked its way out of my brain. It is not beta-read, but I hope you enjoy it! I may already have a few ideas for more stories in this fandom. <3 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

~~~~~~~~

Lucifer had come home from working a case with Detective Decker a few minutes ago. He had dirt all over him and his suit when he came in. Not wanting to know the specifics, you just told him to go shower while you finished up. He nodded, gave you a kiss, and was off. 

While preparing dinner for you and your boyfriend, you had to pinch yourself and make sure that your life was real. You were living in Los Angeles, dating Lucifer Morningstar who despite his reputation, treated you extremely well, and you felt safe. Who would have thought that that would even be a possibility for you?

In the midst of you zoning out, Lucifer had come out in some pajama bottoms and snuck his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. 

“Hello there, beautiful.” After the initial jump, you lightly smacked his arm before turning around in his arms to face him.

“Well hell-looo there!” You couldn’t help the smirk as you found Lucifer shirtless, which was always a nice surprise. He chuckled as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. He also reached behind you and stuck his finger in the dish you were working on, bringing it to his lips as you yet again smack his arm.

“Hey! Luci!”

“Whatever that is, it is delicious, love.” You couldn’t stay even pretend mad at him for long. Laughing you just shake your head and go back to cooking. 

“Thank you, babe.” He places another kiss to the side of your head. You watch him walk away and make his way to the other side of the counter, grabbing something from the expansive collection of alcohol to go with dinner. While you couldn’t help admiring him, your eyes land on the two large and curved scars on his shoulders, the only scars you’ve ever seen on him.

You had seen the scars on his shoulders before. They were kind of hard to miss. And you were happy that he was comfortable enough around you to not hide them. But you still had no idea how he got them. You knew it was something that he didn’t want to talk about because you had asked him multiple times in the past, but you would be lying if you said that you weren’t curious and a little bit worried.

“You know, one day you are going to tell me the truth about those scars.” Lucifer turned to you with his eyebrow quirked up in a challenging manner.

“How do you know I haven’t already told you the truth?”

“Impossible.” You shake your head with a smile as you take the pan off the stovetop and reach for some plates.

 “Oh really?” Lucifer brought his chosen liquor to his seat on the other side of the counter, pouring himself and you a glass.

“Yes! Because every time I’ve asked, you’ve said something different! And none of those stories seem to be real.”

You finish plating dinner and turn to give Lucifer his portion, expecting to see a smirk or some sort of look that says “Well, I guess you’ll never know.” But instead, you see him looking into his drink, his face showing a mix of worry and uneasiness. Sliding the plate in front of him, you try to break his gaze from the cup. 

“You know I’m still going to love you no matter what happened to cause those, right?” Without looking up, his tone got a bit more serious with a twinge of what sounded like pain.

“Don’t make promises you are unsure of, dear.”

“Then tell me what happened and put my promise to the test.” You reach for your glass and take a sip, loving the taste but not able to relish in it because your worry for Lucifer takes precedence. 

You can see him mulling something over in his head. He eventually just runs his hands over his face and sighs out a shuddered breath. You move around the counter and hop up on it, you get close enough to put your hand on his cheek and make him look at you. It broke your heart to see whatever trauma that those scars left in his eyes.

“Hey. If it makes you this upset, you don’t have to tell me. I want to know, but if it's going to hurt you, I don’t--”

 “I am Lucifer.” His eyes were closed but pointed down towards the counter. The confused chuckled that escaped you was uncontrolled.  

“We’ve been dating for awhile now, I think I know your name pretty well, ba--”

“No.” He took your hand from his cheek and from your lap and held them in both of his hands. “I am Lucifer Morningstar, Bealezbub, Mephistopheles, the prince of darkness, the Devil! I am…” He finally looked you in the eye, “the Devil.”

You sat there next to him, looking into his eyes to see if there were any indications that this was a joke. But you saw that he truly believed that he was the Devil. And surprisingly it made sense to you. Everything about him pointed towards that being true, but you hadn’t seen any sort of proof other than the genuine reactions he is showing right now as he tells you.

“Okay… Um… I’m not saying that I don’t believe you, but--”

“You don’t believe me.” His hands, which are still holding yours, drop slightly as he looks away dejectedly. You squeeze them and make him look at you.

“I’m saying that I need some proof. As much as I love you and I know you wouldn’t lie to me, I am just asking if there is anything you can show me.”

Lucifer’s leg begins to bounce with anxiety as he thinks about his next course of action. He knew that telling you would lead to this, he was just scared of the possible fear and rejection. He truly loved you, which is something he never thought was possible. He didn’t want to lose you. But he had to be honest with you. 

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, focusing on his arm. You watch his face, looking for any sign that this is going to far for him. When he meets your gaze again, his normally dark eyes are now a vicious red color. 

You flinched and you saw that it hurt Lucifer. You didn’t know what you expected, but it definitely wasn’t that. 

His eyes looked down at his arm. Following his gaze, you see that his skin was now more red. His veins looked like they were glowing under his skin. 

“Oh my god!” You couldn’t help the shock as you dropped his hands and covered your gasp. 

You took a moment to look at it as he reached for his glass and took a larger than normal drink. Your body moved faster than your brain as you held out a hand to him. Lucifer was confused, but you slowly reached out more until you were delicately holding his arm. It was warmer than a normal human, but not scalding. He let you move it, watching you look at the different shades of red of his true skin. 

After a few minutes of looking at his arm, your gaze goes back to his eyes. As soon as you make eye contact, he takes a visibly nervous breath in and holds it, trying to figure out what you were thinking. He closed his eyes and quickly made his skin and eye color back to “normal.” 

“Okay. So the stuff that I ignored in church growing up is--”

“Real. Well,” Lucifer tilts his head side to side. “most of it at least.”

Your brain exploded with questions. All of them were out of curiosity. There was no fear or overwhelming nature to any of them. 

“Okay… So the whole heaven and hell thing. That’s real?”

 Lucifer spent the next half hour patiently listening to all of your questions and answering them the best he could while the two of you ate. He got more and more comfortable the more he talked about it and saw that you were accepting them, accepting him.

“So what does all of this have to do with the scars on your back?” Your voice was a bit softer, knowing that this wasn’t going to be the easiest thing for him to answer. Lucifer’s change in demeanor said that you were right. 

“The short version? I had wings. But when I left Hell and came here, I wanted to leave that all behind. So I…” He shifted in his seat, slightly rolling his left shoulder as if he still felt the weight of his wings, “I cut them off.”

You really weren’t sure how to respond. You understood the reasoning behind it, but you had no idea what that felt like. You had no way to relate to it or know how to try and help Lucifer feel better about the situation. All you could do was softly say, “I’m sorry.” Which got a chuckle out of Lucifer.

“Why in the world are you apologizing, dear? It's not like you had any part in it.”

“I know, but I just can’t imagine all of the frustration and sadness that went into a choice so painful.”

Lucifer knew how empathetic you could be, it was one of the reasons you were so appealing to him. You fell silent as you drank the last of your drink, Lucifer turned to completely face you.

“ I will say that you’re not reacting quite like how I thought you would. Usually when people find out about celestial beings being real, they go insane or end up too overwhelmed to handle it. But you. You are very... quiet.” 

Lucifer needed to know how you felt about him and his true self. He was preparing himself for heartbreak, for you to get up, say something along the lines of “this is too much,” and then leave him.

Before he could think more negative thoughts, you spoke up.

“I’m just trying to fully absorb that God and angels and demons are real and that I’m actually in love with the Devil. It may take awhile, bu--”

“So you do still love me?” You meet Lucifer’s eyes. He looks so hopeful and shocked, but still too cautious and nervous to let himself feel the happiness of what you just said. You turn to face him completely now, taking his once red head in yours. 

“Yes. It's going to take a hot minute to really solidify all of this new stuff in my brain. And I’m definitely going to still be surprised if you ever go all demon eyes on me. But yes. I love you, Lucifer Morningstar.”

A very shuddered exhale leaves the now thankful smile on his face. You stand up and close the distance between the two of you, standing between his legs as he sits on the bar stool. He doesn’t wrap his arms around your waist until yours are around his neck. He is gentle with his embrace, burying his head in your neck. You can feel a tear or two hit the sensitive skin by your collar bone. 

You both stay like this for a minute or two. When you pull away a little bit, you take his face in both of your hands and lean in for a gentle kiss. Lucifer pulls you in closer, needed to feel all of this as validation. Letting it sink in that you do truly accept and love him for him.

You’re the one to break away one Lucifer seemed to relax and slowly go back to being his normal self. You sit back down and reach for the bottle on the counter, but Lucifer is already pouring you another drink. Smiling, you take the last bite of food that you have on your plate as a silent laugh leaves your nostrils. Lucifer notices.

“Laughing at my vulnerability now are we?”

“Oh god no! I just thought of one more question.”

“For now.”

“Yes, for now. I’m sure there will be others that pop into my head as time goes on.”

“Alright, what is your question?”

“Did it hurt?” You tried to be serious. Lucifer’s expression changed as if to say “isn’t it obvious?”

“What? When I cut off my wings? Yes! It's as if you were cutting off your arms, but a bit smaller, and on--.”

“No, no-- Not that, although that sounds awful. I meant…” You lean in a bit, Lucifer’s brow raises. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” 

You had lost it. Your uncontrollable laughter echoed through the penthouse, and while the noise made Lucifer’s heart happy, he groaned in annoyance at the awful pickup line. He put his head in one hand, pointing the other to the elevator on the other side of the room.

“Get out.”

You knew he didn’t mean it, but you played along and stood up. Before you could get to paces away, a familiar hand grabbed yours and pulled you back towards him. You found your place between his legs, both your hands and his automatically find their familiar places, as if nothing had changed. 

Lucifer pulled you in closer and flashed his red eyes, making you jerk in his grasp. You both laughed and you lightly smacked his shoulder. 

“Rude.” 

“C’mon, love. It's a little funny.” He says through his trademark devilish smile as you both lean in for a kiss, ending the night better than he could have dreamed of.

[retphienix]

It's been 6 years :)

On March 30th, 2015 I decided I wanted a gaming side blog. (so we're early, but shush, it's the month for me)

I didn't know what I'd use it for exactly, but I had ideas- something I always have even if most of them only get as far as daydreamin' or writing out before closing them :P

For proof on the lack of direction the blog initially had- the March 30th date is the anniversary of my first post, an in-depth and lengthy review of Dragon Warrior Monsters for the GBC.

If you know the blog then you know "Extremely long and in-depth reviews" aren't the norm around here. As a matter of fact, that first post is the ONLY one I've done!

The closest I've come to ever repeating that would be the (word of the day) Directionless video I put out on Hades to get a grip on the concept of making videos, but that wasn't nearly as much of a 'review' as that first post is.

Tangent, definitely planning on trying my hand at videos some more for the foreseeable future. Probably not gonna use the tagline Full Impressions that I tossed as a whim for the Hades video but yeah- I'm excited to try my hand at a few videos :) tangent over.

It didn't take me long to come up with what I'd like to do for the blog though :)

A few months later I liveblogged a challenge run of FFT where I used only Ramza- a solo run. - Which maybe only happened because I tried a nuzlocke run a year prior on my main account-

(Nuzlocke | FFT challenge run)

Thanks to that haphazard liveblog experiment I started to realize a couple things which became the primary motivators behind this blog.

1) I LOVE sharing experiences. No brainer, I'm sure, but being able to share my experiences, and compare them with others' experiences, and just that mutual sharing is uplifting and feels good to do.

2) Liveblogging is an EXCEPTIONAL motivator to buckle down and play all those games I said I'd play (cue everyone laughing because I'm still way behind and have an immeasurable backlog).

But I mean that, on both respects. I have plenty of motivators toward the blog today, but if I were to be concise it's pretty much "It's easier to beat games if I liveblog them- otherwise I get distracted and play other games" and "I love sharing experiences and thoughts with people about my favorite thing- games."

Since 2015 I've tackled around 70 games as full playthroughs, and an untold ton as one offs or just to ramble about for a bit.

I've had a lot of highlights over the years, and I don't talk much about it as an overall experience so I thought for the anniversary I'd try to do just that. Not everything- I can't say I have photographic memory that would bring all of it up without prompting after all :P But whatever comes to mind as I browse some of my old stuff- as well as some thoughts on what I'd like to see in the future.

It's gonna be a bit self-centric I assume as I type this preamble to it, so let me say outright that this blog wouldn't be half of what it is without all the people who've given it the time of day over the years.

From recommending games they love or appreciate, to comparing thoughts, to offering kind words for analysis I've done over the years, to pointing out when I'm dumb and misread a situation :P- to, yes, even the people who decided "Fuck this guy's ramble" and deleted my captions before reblogging my gifs way back during Hamtaro (Of COURSE I remember that! It's amusing lol).

This is better because of others, because of the interactions and the people I've gotten the chance to chat with or befriend. It's just a liveblog more or less, my own little bit of fun I toss out for myself if for anyone- so seeing others enjoy this or that from the work I put into sharing my experiences or thoughts is always a joy in itself :)

Anyway, onto selfishly rambling about some tidbits of the past :)

Also sorry but no, opted to not shove a ton of photos in, it does have a handful of links to old posts though :P

This'll be disorganized as heck as I'll add to it over time before I feel it's worth posting (or the tumblr post editor becomes a hassle and more or less forces me to).

First~

FFT Solo Ramza Challenge: Considering it was roughly the first thing this blog has done, it's also something that's stuck in my head a lot more clearly than most of the other stuff I've done to be honest lol.

In truth, this is partially because FFT is my favorite game, bar none. But it's also because the whole experience was pretty new to me. Prior to it I had really only done one self-imposed-challenge that wasn't requested by the game in some manner and that was a nuzlocke run of Blue version.

So adding a challenge to my favorite game was a fantastic experience!

Notes I just wanted to say today about that run: If anyone enjoys FFT I honestly recommend giving it a shot for the unique story it lends itself to. I do recommend skipping the rules until after the second battle but that's up to YOU to decide.

My first post on the subject is me complaining about spending 4 hours grinding out the second fight and, despite hyperbole being my natural state, that was NOT hyperbole.

It DID take 60~ restarts to beat. It DID take 4 hours. The reason is that that 2nd battle is RNG as HECK, you HAVE to have Delita do some meaningful actions, you HAVE to have the enemies miss and make poor plays, you damn near HAVE to crit a few instances to save yourself from taking too much damage.

It's a numbers game to the extreme, so I wouldn't fault anyone for 'cheating' and skipping the 2nd fight for the ruleset lol.

The memory that stands out the most for that run is actually isolated in a post in which Ramza (Purrick in this run) talks like a total badass as just ONE DUDE running into a room full of enemies. I just think on that as a great encapsulated view of what it was like. The run started off face grindingly difficult, but because FFT is a game that offers so much freedom to the player it was extremely easy to 'break' the game into making Purrick overpowered as hell.

That's something I love about some tactical RPGs, I love having the ability to play smart so that I can play stupid later on, and breaking the game into making him one shot god is certainly a good payoff for playing smart early on :P

RetQuick: I miss RetQuick, it was primarily a short experiment I did in 2015 where I'd play a game for a short span of time (REALLY short, like 10-20 minutes) and record that for the purpose of making gifs and saying a short piece on what I thought.

It's one of those formats where the purpose was pretty shallow- but had a reason. I wanted to try making some gifs with some tools that existed online, so I made an excuse to do just that.

I also wanted to play a TON of games, usually through emulation on my sister's PSP, and this let me do that.

These two minor goals came together and so I spent a while making RetQuicks which were honestly more fun to make than they had any right to be. I mean the gifs were tedious but the playing? The thought sharing? The end product ocassionally having more appeal than just a photoset? It was fun.

I'm thinking whenever I have trouble picking a game for the blog I'll revisit the format... sorta.

I already reused it for a short stint to show clips I had no plan on expanding into a playthrough, but that died as well as it was too similar to Tidbits posts (another tag I no longer really use).

My thought is to rebrand retquick as something of a tryout for what game comes next. Play a handful of my backlog games for an hour or so each and say some thoughts before saying which one I'll continue as the main game for that period of time.

Old Tag Stuff: One of those things that only sticks to me since I made the decisions but it's always funny for me to look back on my old posts because I was apprehensive as hell toward making my posts visible. The reason my early playthroughs on the My-Tags page are variants of Ret instead of just "The name of the game so people can find this post" is because I felt like a liveblog would just spam the tag to hell-

Something I don't remotely feel bad for doing anymore.

So I avoided getting any sort of spotlight for quite a while on the blog for little reason.

Why Retphienix?: This is just a dumb thought I wanted to share and I'm sure I've said before.

It stands for retro!

Yeah!

Ain't that dumb and also not a real shorthand? lol

I think I have some sort of deer in headlights anxiety towards naming things, I mean do you think I think Full Impressions is a good summation for a video? I don't. But perhaps that's overshadowed by the other inexperiences and anxiety driven decisions that had- doesn't matter.

Retphienix is Retphienix because I sat there in 2015 and thought "Well... what do I name an alt account?"

My main is Redphienix, which yes, is ALSO a terrible name AND is misspelled. But it's that because of sentimental reasons. As a kid I misspelled Redphoenix when making my gamertag (I knew how to spell Phoenix back then as well, I was too excited about xbox live and misspelled it) and it's become something of a sentimental misspelling.

So I wanted to make a mix on that for my game blog, but I had no idea what. In the end I thought "RetroPhienix? I don't know. Retphienix is closer to Redphienix. I'll do that" and so it was done.

And just like how Redphienix is both bad and misspelled but exists because of sentimental reasons- Retphienix has acquired the same 'flavor' in my eye lol.

Aspirations for the blog: I have no immediate ramp up plans or road map or whatever, and in truth I'll be happy if the blog stays just as it is forever- up until tumblr ends- I cry over lost posts- and I reopen it on another platform.

But I do have blurry half-considered daydreams that I'd like to see happen for the blog through some hard work or shifts on my part.

One is something I'm already doing kinda, hence my embarrassing means of bringing it up a lot lately. Videos- I want those. I wanna make some looks back on series people don't talk about that I enjoy, I want to make videos sharing my thoughts on games I beat for the blog (like what full impressions kinda was, but I don't think they'll have a unified name from here on out). Maybe retrospectives, but mostly when I think of making a video tied to retphienix or me in general it's me looking at a game that said something to me, and saying it louder with my own interpretations on it.

You know the kind, videos where they talk about a video game but not the whole thing- just a singular message they really heard loud and clear from it intentionally or not. I dig those and I know I end a lot of games having plenty to say that could be directed into such a format.

We'll see.

And I'm along for the ride on that one as well- currently I'm keeping my eyes on whatever is directly next, which happens to be "I plan on playing Omori, if it clicks as something to talk about I would like to take a shot at that in a video too!"

The other is that I'd like to build a small community. Wouldn't know the first thing on doing that in a modern sense, but just a little online friend group to chat with and play games together. Something that could open up multiplayer and coop experiences being better shared on the blog and would just in general expand my gaming to what it used to be back on the 360 when I had a large group to play with.

Since the 360 era ended I've pretty much closed off- stopped playing competitive games due to lack of interest- and slowed down to playing all games either solo, with randoms (and no mic usually), or with my cousin. It's a rare instance when I play with some good people like @gamesception or another friend of mine, John.

When I diverted from playing competitive games nonstop toward other genres I didn't intend to also cut out all my online gaming buds, it just kinda happened, and I never really put any effort into rectifying that.

So more or less I'd like to one day sit down and work on a discord server, and then buck up and put the leg work in to make some gamin' buds again, but that's such a vague concept anymore.

Sounds all sad and what not but it's more ambivalent, I made decisions that

changed how gaming worked for me after the 360 and this is just where it landed for better and worse- I'd just like to see if I can make it a little better :P

General things I think when I think retphienix: Honestly? I think of how much fun I've had over the years and how thankful I am to have had an outlet that encouraged me to explore more of the medium.

I REALLY love games. I went to college for games, I've written LEAGUES about games, I've played countless games, my childhood was games, my adult life is games- games games games yada yada yada.

So when I think of retphienix I think of how without it I probably wouldn't have explored a lot of the corners of gaming that I have.

I genuinely, and I mean this, might not have sat down and beaten FF7 for myself and would have considered the amount I played as a kid to be enough.

I might not have played Chrono Trigger yet, and I KNOW I wouldn't have played Chrono Cross, and I'm happy as hell to have played both of those. CT was a mind blowing moment for me that showed me just how good an RPG can be, and CC gave me miles to think of in terms of innovating an RPG and how beholden to the narrative a sequel should be (I don't feel CC should have been chrono at all lol).

I DEFINITELY wouldn't have given New Vegas another chance. And I know I'm a sourpuss on NV, I've been that way since I maxed my achievements on the 360 for it, but replaying it really did reveal to me how exceedingly negative I was being.

My memories had become "It's brown and a boring location >:(" and "The factions all suck and it doesn't do anything with the idea of bad factions >:(" and became "It's... a little brown guys, not a big fan of the area" and "They didn't do enough with exploring the gray factions" while adding "Wait. This is pretty damn fun. And 90% of the additions are stellar. And I forgot about Dead Money, my favorite dlc in any game ever with a story that tears at my heart every time I think of it, NV good actually?"

Faxanadu would have remained a cool game I saw on SSFF and not a game I played to the end and fell in love with the aesthetic feel it has!

Also that's a game I cheated like crazy on lol, I would do it again! Save state scumming games meant to be rudely difficult is only fair :P

I probably would have never sat down to play through Windwaker which was such a positive and uplifting experience that I now get the most relaxed and warm feeling in my heart when I see those blue waves.

There's so many experiences I would have left on the table in favor of like... putting more hours into a live service title or something.

Maybe, and no offense to my cousin or anyone else playing it, but maybe I'd be no-lifing World of Warcraft nonstop just stagnating my interest toward the skinner box mechanics of an MMO?

Some offense, actually but lightheartedly lol.

But beyond the entire games I've played for the blog, when I think retphienix I picture all the time making gifs, all those games I played on the PSP for short stints, buying a retron 5 to add to what I could explore and being stoked when they shipped a freebie box of old controllers to go with it, getting angry at the retron for being a Piece Of Shit lol, crying at the end of damn near every game with an emotional story because I'm a big emotional mess of a person who finds investing and crying at a story way too easy thanks to empathy pulls, oh!-

Getting excited whenever I found that I had a "*controversial*" opinion that no one would care about lol. Like the one that comes to mind is that I thoroughly believe that Dragon Ball Z II: Gekishin Freeza!! for the NES is WAY better than the fandom recognized and appreciated sequel/remake Dragon Ball Z: Legend of the Super Saiyan!

How many people do you hear talking about either game, let alone saying the NES game that is roughly half of the SNES remake is the better one :P But I stand by that! The SNES one is a remake of DBZ1 and 2 for the NES but it loses all the charm and some of the fun of the NES ones by being a lackluster SNES game!

lol

I admitted wholeheartedly that this post would be a lit-

little directionless (gotta love the new tumblr poster making me break sentences like that), but to sum things up.

It's been 6 years. It's been an untold amount of work to be honest- liveblogging a game, at least for me, hasn't been the easiest thing. It's a lot of thinking out my thoughts (heh), it's a lot of learning tools to make the capturing process possible, it's a lot of experimenting, it's a lot of writing and editing, and, well, sometimes it's just tough.

I mean I went to school for coding, not video editing, not writing, not image processing, not this or that- but this hobby has introduced a lot of things even if only at a VERY base level (I admit fully to using online alternatives to make gifs for instance).

I learned a lot about, well, a lot of things in order to use this blog to learn more about games- and all that work has become part of why I've loved all 6 years of this blog.

6 years of gaming, work, and you all- and it's been worth the investment :) Here's to many more and all of you whether you stumble upon this post or not- literally anyone who's interacted in these 6 years, thank you, and anyone who hasn't I offer you well wishes as well.

<3

[myrmidryad]

We're Waking Up Slow (⛰️🔬), Common Tongue (🎭🎢), Animal Matters (⭐☀️)

For We’re Waking Up Slow:

⛰️-  What was the hardest part?

I think keeping Alex’s internal thoughts and mental progress consistent with what he canonically knew at that point, and making his thought process make sense. Because I was definitely really inspired various meta posts and tags (shoutout to @ober-affen-geil, @chasingshhadows, and @irolltwenties) but I wanted to make it all make sense in a fic setting.

🔬- Was there one scene you were building up to/knew you had to get just right? 

Exactly halfway through, when Michael stands in front of Alex, who’s seated, and Alex lets his forehead rest on Michael’s stomach and they touch each other really, really gently, and Alex kind of wants to cry a little bit.

For Common Tongue:

🎭- What was the feeling or mood you were going for?

Hot and a little bit frantic and desperate. The way Alex has sex with Michael in his trailer, freaks out and runs away, and then jerks off twice more back at the cabin while imagining Michael because that’s just the effect Michael has on him, but then there’s always that chaser of fear because he can’t stop remembering what happened the last time he and Michael were caught together.

🎢- Were there any scenes you were nervous about? For audience reception or otherwise?

I don’t think so.

For Animal Matters:

⭐- What’s a scene/paragraph you’re proud of? 

Reworking the scene where Alex and Michael talk at the junkyard to include their daemons, and Alex and Mihiliz both freaking aout when Laithe shows off her and Michael’s alien range and her disappearing trick. It’s hard to know how effective that sort of thing is to any readers who haven’t read HDM, because the daemon stuff is so specific, but I liked it.

☀️- Was there symbolism/motifs you worked in?

All the daemon choices, ofc, especially Alex and Michael’s, but OOOH BOY you asked and I am going to talk about all of them!!!! Talk about opening a can of worms, prepare yourself, I am about to go in deep.

I wanted Michael to have a monkey right away, because a daemon with hands shows off Michael’s drive to physically build and create with his hands, and how adaptable and clever he is. Barbary macaques are very social, with lifelong family bonds. They’re medium sized, not too big to ride on a human being or small enough to be unthreatening. I also knew about Barbary macaques already as the only monkey that lives in Europe, specifically in Gibralter - they’ve adapted really well to an urban (alien) environment. It’s not native to the states or New Mexico, like Michael isn’t, but it’s sandy coloured and I imagine it would blend in well enough. I also picked up a headcanon from my favourite daemon fic ever, He Says He Is An Experimental Theologian, which is a HDM/WTNV fusion, and one of the best things I’ve ever read, ever, period, that monkey daemons have a reputation for being cunning and not very nice, and that matches up with Michael’s reputation as a bad boy.

I decided on Alex having a snake pretty easily too, but it took a while to settle on the exact type. It had to be native to the states (I have feelings about people’s daemons settling as animals native to their home regions), and I think I decided I wanted it to be dark pretty early on too. Something outwardly unobtrusive, easy to underestimate and overlook, something very good at being patient and lying in wait for a long time before striking with deadly accuracy. Snakes are solitary animals, and Alex is someone who guards his privacy and independence incredibly fiercely. I also have feelings about Alex’s feelings about settling as a snake, particularly wrt his family and obviously his father. I believe Jesse Manes is the sort of person who would be displeased for any of his sons to settle as anything but a predator animal, and I think Alex would have mixed feelings about fulfilling that expectation - relief at not inviting ridicule or retribution, but not exactly uncomplicated pleasure because he doesn’t like doing anything that pleases his dad. But he does love Mihiliz, and her form. Then there’s the other issue of his mother’s side of the family - snakes are one of several animals that are considered bad by the Apache, so I imagine that snake daemons would be uncommon to nonexistent among the Mescalero. By settling as a snake, Alex thinks he’s cut himself off from that side of his heritage, possibly for good, and at the very least marked himself as a very obvious outsider to it. Settling as a snake would also, for this reason, be something that would please his father, as a very visible proof of Alex’s rejection of his mother’s influence. Whether that’s true or not, Alex would have Issues about it for sure.

The other daemons had a bit less thought put into them, but I LOVE thinking about what people’s daemons would be, so I still considered each one. I wanted Kyle to have a daemon that could be absolutely hellish when he was a bully teenager, but then present as very friendly and sweet when he’s turned over a new leaf as an adult. Weasels and other mustolids can be unbelievably violent and vicious and can take down prey many times their own size, even when they themselves look tiny and cute.

I wanted Max to have a dog daemon right away, because he’s a loyal man, and he’s appointed himself a guard dog of sorts by joining the police force. He just gives me seriously dog vibes. I wanted him to have a distinctive dog though, definitely handsome, and again, not native to New Mexico but with colouration that sort of blends in. Max really wants to be a normal guy, but he can’t pretend his way out of what he really is. I also chose a pharaoh hound as a nod to his royal nature in the OG series, even if that isn’t the route RNM is taking.

Isobel is the one who gave me the most trouble, and I’m still not entirely sure about my choice of daemon for her. She has a Costa’s hummingbird daemon, which is native to New Mexico as a representation of how much better she blends in than her brothers, and how much more comfortable she is doing so - at least in most of season one. I knew I wanted her to have a bird with very pretty feathers, and the Costa’s hummingbird has these really gorgeous iridescent purple neck feathers. I’m now thinking though that I should have given her something with a more violent edge, because I think Isobel is definitely capable of violently protecting what she considers hers (her family). I think I maybe went on the aesthetic too much for her.

I picked an Abert’s squirrel for Liz because again, I wanted her to have a daemon species native to her home, and I thought a squirrel suited her in terms of how quick and clever they are, and like Michael’s monkey, a squirrel has a degree of paw dexterity a lot of other animals don’t have. They’re cute, but they’re territorial, and they can be violent on occasion.

Maria has a gray fox to reflect her resourcefulness and ability to survive through seriously tough times. It’s another New Mexico native, and it has a very cool ability to climb trees with cat-like agility.

Jesse has a wolf for a couple of reasons, one of them being pure intimidation. Check out how big a grey wolf is in real life - they are fucking huge, and having a wolf-shaped soul shows what a relentless hunter Jesse is. Wolves are great animals and they get a bad rep in folklore as being big and bad, but I believe daemons can reflect those attitudes as well. Wolves are incredible pack hunters, and Jesse is all about the pack and the family and the legacy of that. I also believe he sees himself as a necessary guard dog of humanity, and a wolf reflects that. I don’t know what his other two sons have settled as, but I decided on Flint having a coyote easily - a lesser wolf, in a sense, smaller and more solitary, but just as good at hunting and tracking and working as part of a team.

It never came up in Animal Matters, but I also decided on a black panther for Rosa (tough, mysterious, solitary, once native to Mexico, would very much stand out in a place like Roswell) and an alien bird that resembled a motmot bird for Noah.

[blancheludis]

A/N: @iron-man-bingo, square: “You’re a disappointment.”

Fandom: Marvel, MCU, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Words: 4.490 Tags: Slightly Unhinged Tony, Morally Grey Tony, First Meeting

Summary: "You," Tony says as he looks down at the trembling body of Steve Rogers, "are a disappointment." It's too bad that Fury wants Rogers on the team anyway.

---

Afghanistan changed Tony. Of course it did. Before, he would not have taken the time to sit in a street café, sipping his coffee as if it is the only thing he has come here for, while he looks at the apartment complex on the other side of the street through his sunglasses.

Fourteen people are currently in there, but Tony is only interested in one. JARVIS feeds him information on the stability of the building, on possible structural and collateral damage should it come to a fight. He is also analysing Tony’s caffeine levels as if that has ever stopped Tony from pouring more coffee down his throat. He has already filled half of this cup with whiskey, so it is not like he is not watching his health.

“Target is asleep,” JARVIS speaks up when there are only a few sips left in Tony’s cup. Perfect timing. Tony is sure JARVIS would have intervened if he had ordered another one.

For the past hours, the man they are looking for has been restless, pacing the small apartment, then he tried to sleep but woke up from a nightmare only minutes later. He has also wolfed down most of what was in the fridge. Now, the readings indicate that he is not going to wake up again soon. Tony almost regrets having to disturb the sleep that he has waited so long for.

Leaving enough bills on the table to cover his coffee and the tip, Tony walks over the street and lets himself into the apartment building. He saunters in there as if he belongs here, knowing exactly where he is going and trusts JARVIS to inform him should any trouble arise.

Tony does not go in guns blazing. Instead, he opens the door quietly, has a look around the flat, which belongs to a Sam Wilson, who appears to be a nice guy, although he might come to regret that. Tony’s feet make no sound as he walks towards the bedroom. Ever since he has begun experimenting on a stealth suit, he has included some of the features into his everyday life. Walking soundlessly is definitely a perk.

Propping the door open, Tony remains where he is and takes in the target first. The man lies curled around himself on the bed. From what little there is visible of him, he looks exactly like in the pictures; blonde, tall, muscles piled upon muscles. He is nice to look at, but Tony has done enough looking for one day.

Tony walks up to the foot of the bed, looks down with a strange feeling in his gut, and clears his throat.

The change is instantaneous. The man’s muscles tense as he comes awake. One moment, he is lying down, the next his back is pressed against the headboard, looking around wildly until his eyes fall on Tony. He is shivering and his heart, as JARVIS supplies helpfully directly in Tony’s ear, is racing.

“You,” Tony says as he looks down at the shivering body of Steve Rogers, “are a disappointment.”

all the stories Tony has heard, growing up, Captain America was that inspiring figure, never backing down from doing the right thing. In reality, Steve Rogers is a man like everybody else, frightened and confused, running from his problems as if there is any escaping them. Tony never runs. He is built from sterner stuff, and he hates that he has wasted years of his childhood looking up to a man who is just as fallible as everybody else.  

Rogers blinks up at him, perhaps wondering whether Tony is only a figment of his mind. The tension never leaves him, but he does not lash out. He probably does not see Tony as a threat. Few people did before Iron Man, and Rogers does not know what he is capable of, with the suit or without.

Right now, Tony is wearing a three-piece-suit and his sunglasses. He looks wealthy and careless and altogether not like someone who would break into an apartment complex – at least not in this part of town – so he understands Rogers’ confusion. Being underestimated has made things so much easier for Tony countless times.

Rogers’ throat moves as if he wants to speak, but no sounds passes his lips. He just blinks several times, then pinches the bridge of his nose. Tony expected something more.

He has been watching Rogers for days now, ever since Fury came to him after they lost their newly defrosted supersoldier, expecting Tony to fix their mess as usual.  His unfamiliarity with modern times aside, Rogers should have had more of a plan to his flight. As someone praised for his strategic genius, getting on the first bus out of New York and then turning to stress-running in Washington until Mr. Wilson stumbled over him and offered to help does not sound very strategical to Tony. Perhaps that only comes out when there is gunfire and falling bombs. It will not be that hard to arrange for that. If Tony decides to go along with Fury’s scheme to pull Rogers on the team. For now, Tony still has doubts.

“Dear old dad always said you were his greatest creation,” Tony continues in a tone that is almost pleasant if not for the sharpness lingering beneath the words. “But I just don’t see it.”

Tony makes a show of looking Rogers up and down. He is wearing an obviously borrowed shirt, which does not leave much to imagination, stretching quite nicely over Rogers’ muscles.

Rogers looks more aware now, but he still does not say anything. He watches Tony, almost like he is biding his time. Well, Tony decides to start poking the bear, lest they keep staring at each other for even longer.

“I think you’re just like a dog,” Tony says, the words belying the sweetness of his tone, “who throws himself happily into every fight he can find. But when you don’t like what you hear, you become rabid.” Clicking his tongue, Tony leans a bit forward, although he takes care to remain out of Rogers’ immediate reach. “That’s not a good trait in a dog.”

Rogers’ demeanour changes from confused and shaken to angry within seconds. His forehead folds into a frown, while his eyes become more focused, assessing. It is too bad that all of this comes too late. Tony could have taken him out a dozen times by now, in a dozen different ways.

“Who are you?” Rogers asks. He shifts his position to better push himself up if needed, trying and failing to be subtle about it.

Tony is sure the only reason things have not already devolved into a fight, is because Tony does not look like any of the other goons Fury must have sent to follow Rogers up until now. Instead, he looks like a businessman, and people like Rogers do not know to be afraid of those. Although Rogers should know better, considering he was acquainted with Howard.

“Your employer works for me,” Tony answers brightly, a small smirk playing on his lips. “If you ask Fury, he’d tell you I’m working for him, but I could tear down his laughable organisation during my lunch break. I let him keep his illusion, though. Makes working together much easier. Unfortunately, that makes you my problem,” Tony points at Rogers, grimacing, “and I’m not known for letting my weapons run rampant.”

The world knows that by now after he has torn Stane down for all the world to see from the throne he had built on Tony’s shoulders.

Afghanistan has changed more than his tendency to be impatient. People say Tony snapped over there, that he has gone mad under torture. The truth is, he has always been a little unhinged. That should not surprise anyone, considering that Stark blood is running through his veins. He has just stopped pouring so much energy into pretending otherwise. Life is much easier like this.

Stane and the Ten Rings also made him realize that supplying his country with the biggest sticks is not the best way to deal with war. Especially considering he trusted the wrong person and let his weapons end up all over the world, in all the wrong hands. Tony has to be the biggest stick himself, on the field and off.

He has never had much patience for politics, but he stepped up nonetheless. Everybody has known him before, if just as the billionaire playboy who also sells the best weapons around. It was not so hard to form that image into something with more political sway. The prodigal son returned home, a little bit broken but more ready than ever to defend his country.

Stark Industries has never sold more or better weapons, the stock sky-rocketed. In just a few years, Tony has taken Howard’s legacy and made it into something to be really in awe of.

Reaching out to SHIELD had been the logical next step, considering its influence and the fact that it is his father and godmother’s brainchild. Of course, it comes with annoying tasks like hunting down an errand Captain America, who does not yet know that it is best for him to play along until there is a fool-proof opening – not that Tony plans on letting him have that. Ever.

If Fury and his extra-terrestrial source are to be believed, they have worse enough things coming for them to need all capable hands on deck. Even if it means that Tony has to deal with a defrosted hero he really could have done without ever meeting.

“I’m not a weapon,” Rogers finally says. His voice is hoarse, likely from screaming out earlier during his nightmare.

Tony allows himself to laugh. From his point of view, Rogers appears small, literally and metaphorically. It is probably not a good idea to provoke Rogers but Tony cannot help himself. Angry people make mistakes.

“Erskine wanted to create the perfect soldier, the perfect weapon,” he says, remembering the recruitment flyers Howard kept close to his shrine for Captain America. And there you were, the first in line.”

“I wasn’t –” Rogers protests but Tony cuts him off. They have already wasted enough time.

“Let’s adjourn this argument,” he says shortly. “Fury wants me to put a chip inside you so he can track you down next time you run off.” Tony does not need such primitive means, and there is already a tracker in Rogers’ phone, but he keeps that to himself. Rogers looks spooked enough already. Spooked on the verge of getting furious. “For now, I’m telling him no. I can change my mind any time, though, so you had better not make an enemy out of me.”

Which is easier said than done since Tony does not have a very high opinion of Steve Rogers already.

Rogers straightens further. He has not yet made a move to stand up, but he probably thinks surprise will be on his side if he strikes from his place on the bed.

“Who. Are. You?” Rogers repeats his earlier question, although with much more of a bite to it now.

“Shouldn’t that be obvious? They told me you are smart, but I guess that only works when you’re trying to figure out where to best hit people.” Spreading his arms, Tony sticks his chin out and says, “I’m Tony Stark. Don’t compare me to my father, I’ve surpassed him a long while ago.”

Right before him, Tony can see how Rogers re-evaluates him as no threat at all. This will be fun, at least until it starts to become annoying. Rogers should be concerned with how Tony found him and managed to sneak up on him until he was literally standing over the bed. Yet, people like Rogers put too much on appearances.

“And what do you want from me?”

All his childhood, Tony wanted to live up to Captain America, to make his father proud.  Afghanistan has changes that too. Tony is completely his own person now. He prefers others wanting to live up to him.

“Frankly, I would have preferred if you’d stayed in the ice,” Tony explains easily, rocking back on the soles of his feet, seemingly easy to be pushed off balance. “But Fury’s got that idea of a group as a first line of attack against a superhuman threat he thinks is coming, and he wants you on the team.”

Nobody can quite say what that threat is, but as little as Tony likes Fury, he trusts the man’s instincts. Without them, he would not have survived half as long as he has. Peggy personally made him her successor too. That has to count for something.  

“Right now,” Tony continues with some smugness, “I’m the team, and I have no problems with it staying that way if you can’t listen to orders.”

His, of course, not Fury’s. But these semantics are better hashed out once they are all back home.

“I’m no one’s attack dog,” Rogers all but growls, hands clenched at his side.  

Tony looks at him with pity. “Except the US Army’s?” he asks and shrugs as if he does not mind that. “You were quite eager then to become their mascot. And they are eager now to get you back.” In fact, they are eager enough that they have stopped bothering Tony about giving them the Iron Man suit for the time being. It will not last, but Tony is glad for the respite. “You’ll find that your nice patriotic title won’t help you much these days if you decide to defy them. Compared to them, Fury’s very lenient. But it’s your choice, the military or SHIELD.”

Rogers does not like his decisions being made for him, Tony would not have needed Peggy’s stories to know that. One look at Roger’s face right now makes it very clear. His lips are pulled down as if he has bitten on something sour even while something suspiciously like relief flashes over his face. It is the anticipation of a fight that has him able to pull himself out of the last lingering traces of his nightmare-induced misery, to shake off the feelings that made him run away in the first place.

“What if I don’t want either of those?” Rogers asks, a little impatient as if he is ready to be done with words.

“I like people going for the third option,” Tony declares with a bright smile. He naturally prefers it when it benefits him. “Sadly, there’s none for you. Sorry,”

Rogers squares his shoulders as he sits fully up. “I refuse,” he says very clearly, staring at Tony as if he thinks he can intimidate him with that alone.

“Wrong answer,” Tony snaps, voice suddenly sharp and without any trace of humour. “Try again.”

Silence engulfs them as they stare at each other as they go from a mostly-friendly chat between a run-away and an intruder to facing off. With a shuddering breath sounding almost a sigh, Steve gets to his feet and Tony lets him, even though his violent intent is apparent in the way he glares. Tony is not afraid of their defrosted supersolider. No matter how good the serum is, it is outdated compared to what Tony has built for himself.

“No,” Rogers says firmly, never breaking eye contact.

He settles into a fighting position, legs hip-width apart, fists raised. Tony is still standing at the foot of the bed, but he has seen videos of Rogers in action, so he knows how fast he is. Rogers does not have his shield. It is no secret that, like this, Tony is no match for Captain America. Luckily, he does not have to be.

Stepping around the bed, Tony taps against the arc reactor hidden under his shirt, and smiles when he feels the armour stretching out over his skin, engulfing him whole.

Rogers must have been informed about Iron Man, although he obviously does not know any specifics. His face goes blank as he stares at the rapidly unfolding metal swallowing Tony whole.

“Let’s do it your way then,” Tony says once he is all suited up. The voice modulator makes his voice sound impassive, even while he feels like giggling at the sheer excitement of going up against Captain America.

He raises his arm and powers up the repulsor, the familiar sound is like music in his ear. Even for someone who does not know exactly what he is facing, this is an unmistakeable threat.

When Rogers does not move, Tony taunts him, “Come on, I love to dance.”

Satisfaction shoots through him when Rogers finches as if he has already been wounded.  Peggy had told him about Roger’ last words to her. It might be a low blow to use them like that, but Rogers might as well have not reacted to them at all. Being that sensitive only gets one killed.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Rogers says, even though the trembling eagerness in his position belies that. It is rather belittling of him to insinuate that he can take Tony.

“Great,” Tony exclaims and goes so far as to power down the repulsor, “you’ve got some brain cells left up there. Let’s head right back to SHIELD then. Fury’s got someone to introduce to you. Two people, actually. You’ll like them.” Because there is always a little devil riding Tony’s shoulder, he adds, “One is a redhead. I heard you like to go for them.”

Tony expects the punch even before JARVIS warns him of Rogers’ movement. He does not move, though but lets Rogers split his knuckles on the suit’s faceplate. Despite the power behind it, Tony barely feels a tingle.

Tony waits for the confusion at the ineffective punch to register with Rogers and only then does he react. In one smooth motion, he grabs Rogers’ arm and kicks his legs out from under him. With enough power to knock the breath out of him, Tony pushes Rogers face-first to the ground and follows him down, pinning him down with the armour. He twists Rogers’ arm up his back, applying just enough pressure to make Rogers gasp.

Rogers struggles and tries to throw Tony off, but the suit does not budge even one bit. He is always tinkering with the suit, making it better. Ever since he heard of Rogers having been found in the ice, he put in special effort to be sure it will withstand an assault by the supersoldier. In Tony’s mind, it has been inevitable that they will clash one day, so he does not mind having sped up the schedule a bit.

They lie on the floor for a long minute, Rogers is breathing heavily, while Tony allows himself to grin in the safety of his helmet. It is better not to let Rogers know that he is enjoying himself.

“Are you ready to come back?” Tony asks right in Steve’s ear. “Or I can let you get back up and we can go again.”

Perhaps Rogers would even last longer this time, not underestimating Tony so much.

“Do you feel good about yourself? Hiding behind your suit?” Rogers hisses back. “Take it off and you’re nothing.”

Tony is so bored with people trying to take the moral high road with him, of people reducing him to what he has as if he has not built all of that for himself. Howard might have laid the groundworks for Stark Industries, but Tony has already gone far beyond what his father could have ever achieved with it.  

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Tony replies, wishing he would have let Rogers punch the suit a couple more times. “I built the suit. If you take it away, I’ll build another, or anything else I can think off.” Leaning forward, he applies more pressure on Rogers’ twisted arm. “What are you without the serum? Erskine and my father made you what you are. If you keep being a bother, I might just go ahead and reverse it.”

For a brief moment, Rogers goes still beneath him, then he fights with new fervour. “You can’t do that,” he says but sounds slightly uncertain about it.

“Everything special about you came out of a bottle,” Tony explains, almost gentle although the voice modulator makes a mockery of it, turning it flat. “You were made, so you can be unmade.”

Rogers doubles his efforts to get free, but Tony locks his joints in place and becomes literally dead weight on top of Rogers’ body. A lesser human might have been crushed by that. Finally, Rogers relaxes as a sign of surrender, although his expression remains tense, angry.

Tony remains where he is for a moment longer just to drive the point home. Then he gets smoothly to his feet and does not offer Rogers a hand to help him up. It is not even that he dislikes Rogers. From what he has seen up until now, he seems like a decent guy. Nonetheless, it feels like bringing a piece of Howard back to life.

Giving a quiet command, the suit folds back into itself, leaving Tony in his immaculate suit. Rogers, still lying on the ground, tracks the process with keen eyes before he pushes himself up. Standing right in front of each other, if becomes obvious how much taller Rogers is. None of that helps him here, though.

Tony nods, considering the arguing part of their meeting as dealt with. He turns around to look at the room, deliberately leaving his back open. It is as much a show of power as it is a gift. He is not here to make an enemy out of Rogers.

Once he has surveyed the whole room – what little there is – he looks back at Rogers. His lips are pulled up into a wide smile, friendly but obviously hiding teeth.

“I’ve got an apartment waiting for you in my tower.”

Of all the things Tony could have said, Rogers definitely did not expect this. Several emotions wander over Rogers’ face, the most easily recognizable is doubt.

“Why?” he then asks, a dozen more questions waiting beneath that word.

Tony sighs exaggeratedly. “We’re supposed to be a team,” he says as if their altercation just now never happened. “And I’d be grumpy too if I had to live in SHIELD’s barracks. I’ve seen the cell they call your room. I promise you’ll have windows from now on. The view is quite nice too.”

It becomes apparent very quickly that Rogers does not know what to make of Tony. Few people do, though, and he likes it that way.

“Is that what you do?” Rogers then asks. “Going from threatening someone to inviting them to live in your home in under a minute?”

Tony grins and knows it must look manic. “Short answer? Yes,” he says. It is not as if he has much to fear from Rogers.

Afghanistan has changed that too. Tony has never trusted easily, but he is not waiting for others to prove their worth anymore. Neither does he try to prove his. He simply shapes his world in a way that makes it very hard for others to betray him. He will take in Rogers, and even Hawkeye and Black Widow, although he already knows he cannot trust them. In the tower, he will have them under constant surveillance, though. There is no hiding from him anywhere in the world, but especially not in his own kingdom. Fury wants them to play nice, so he will do that – as long as he can make the rules.

“But I didn’t come to threaten you, just to bring you back,” Tony continues nonchalantly, not mentioning how much fun it was anyway. With a gesture at Rogers body, he adds, “I’ve also already designed new armour for you, and since no one else has such a ridiculous body shape, I need you to come. I’d hate for my effort to be wasted.”

The fainted hint of a warning accompanies his tone, not mixing well with his otherwise smiling face.

Tony feels Rogers’ eyes on him, practically hears the thoughts rattling inside his head. His behaviour throws people off, his mood swings, his unpredictability. He likes putting people on edge, though, making them wonder how he will react – especially since it is not usually in their favour. It is a good thing bullets tend to ricochet off the suit. Enough people have tried to get rid of him even before surviving Afghanistan has turned him into a better version of himself. He is not yet done with the world.

In front of him, Rogers’ gaze wander from him to the door and then to the window, checking possible escape routes. The moment he steps onto the street without Tony at his side, two more Iron Man suits will keep him from running further. Tony has promised Fury to bring the good Captain back. If his words fail, his tech will not.

After an eternity of contemplation, Rogers’ stance relaxes a bit. He does not quite look like he is giving in or that he will not try to run again at the first opportunity, but that would have only disappointed Tony further. For now, though, Rogers will play along.

“All right,” Rogers says with some trepidation, “but I’m not going to let you send me anywhere blind. I want to know what we’re doing at all times.”

There should be questions about what superhuman threat is supposed to mean, or why a group of people with special abilities is needed, but Rogers has seen his fair share of strange things, so he takes it at face value for now.

It is amusing, of course, that Rogers thinks he is going to have any say in what is going to happen, but Tony knows how important it is to leave people their illusions, so he nods.

“Done. Now come on before Fury sends the Black Widow after us. She could kill you with her little finger alone.”

Not Tony, though. He has a hundred precautions in place to keep Romanoff from stabbing his back. The moment she makes a single wrong move, she is going to find she made the wrong kind of enemy in him.

“That team of yours,” Rogers asks, taking the first hesitant step towards Tony, “what is it called?”

Tony grins like a shark. “We’re the Avengers.”

It is a fitting name. Vengeance has always been dear to his heart. And Rogers, if the faint glint in his eyes is anything to go by, has some things to put right too, even if it means throwing his lot in with the likes of Tony.

He has a feeling they will work well together once this awkward phase of getting to know each other is over. If not, Tony will make it so.

[zettasserda]

Book:  America’s Most Eligible Pairing: Jen x MC (Default name: Jamie) Word Count: 1639 tagged: the anon that requested it and @alanakusumastan

thanks anon for the request and i hope i did it justice. it basically revolves around the theory that’s based on jen being the one who’s behind the rumors. this is part one, the second one will be nsfw

Production Control Room

It was around 11pm already, most of the crew and Piper had finished up with their work and went home. Jen moved a few papers and folders that were placed on perhaps the only table that wasn't crumbled with so much stuff, and put her cup of fresh coffee on the now empty place. She sighed heavily, this was possibly her fifth one today. She was sure her body had consumed more coffee than any other drink or food for that matter, in the past few years. The producer leaned on the table next to the one with the cup and crossed her arms, looking up at the monitor wall in front of her. She remembered the fight that escalated a few hours ago; Lina screaming at Jamie, calling her a liar and smirking while declaring she can prove it. Prove that Jamie is sleeping with the crew.

Jen knew that Jamie is certainly not sleeping with any member of the crew. Lina didn't have any actual proof to affirm her accusations.

The brunette grabbed the cup next to her and took a sip of the fresh coffee. She thought about the fight and wondered if it managed to create enough drama, as she held the cup in her hand. Spotting Lina on one of the video screens, she turned up the volume on the audio mixer so she could hear the aftermath conversations.

Lina was sprawled on the couch in the living room with both of her legs on the table, acting like she did not just throw a tantrum in front of everybody on set. She looked like she had already won the title of America's Most Eligible. People get extremely eager to tear each other down, Jen studied her self-assured face, taking another sip.

"So, who's the source, Lina?" Derek arched a brow, questioning the party girl sitting across him.

"I don't kiss and tell." She smirked, obviously not wanting to give any leverage over her. "Unlike some people, who kiss and sleep with other people to get to the top."

Silence fell in the room; everyone knew that they are not getting a straight answer out of her.

Realizing there was probably nothing significant left to hear in the room, Jen turned down the volume and drowned back into her thoughts. She knew that Lina does not have any real evidence for her statement. But she hoped that the drama it made was more than enough to boost the ratings, to make Piper satisfied and most importantly - keep Jamie in the competition.

She took another sip, closing her eyes and focusing on her inner thoughts. Did she screw up with this? She hoped she hadn't. This would benefit everyone, right? Well, maybe not her since she is the one Lina was targeting in the rumor, along with Jamie, giving both of them a dirty look. But if it's enough to keep Jamie in the game, then it's good enough for her. And Lina's only evidence is what she has been seeing these past few weeks - Jen dragging Jamie away from everyone numerous times, the way they sometimes playfully touch each other, the lingering looks.

And everything went according to plan. Jamie was now evidently in the center of attention. Jen promised to make her a frontrunner and it was definitely happening. It did take a lot of risks but it was either this or Piper would have probably chased her off the show herself and Jen couldn't allow that. She wanted to prove her instincts and skills as a producer. And she saw the undeniable potential in Jamie when she had first laid eyes on her. Those inhumanly bright green eyes, and that warm, reassuring smile. The brunette was sure she was always failing at hiding her blush whenever around the contestant.

There was no doubt that Jamie was attractive and sexy as hell, pure celebrity material. But Jen saw more in her in that moment, she saw fire and determination and when she kissed her -

Though that wasn't the point. She believed in her and maybe she said it to her too many times, but every single time it was true. Jen knew that she had to get her to the top, by any means necessary. At any cost. Something that big is bound to crop up in her mind.

A loud bang on the door made her flinch and leave her inner monologue, spilling the warm coffee over her white and blue polka dot shirt. Fuck! This is not the time to be fucking clumsy. She threw the cup in the trash can under the table. Must be Piper, she probably forgot something. Like yelling at me. Especially now if she would see her in the ruined shirt. She shuddered at the thought. Though she did wonder why wouldn’t Piper unlock the door to the control room with her own key.

The brunette walked over to the door and unlocked it.

She opened the door to reveal The Girl Next Door. The girl that was occupying her mind for the last few weeks. Jamie. In her dark ripped skinny jeans and loose red crop top, a golden necklace hanging around her neck. She looked gorgeous, as always.

Green eyes stared down into her own, with a narrowed gaze and Jen feared the worst. Jamie leaned closer to look at her more intensely and Jen blanked out for a second. Though she was thankful that Jamie chose to ignore the stain on her shirt, and it was probably even visible in the dimly lit control room. 

“Jamie, you can’t be here. You know it’s no-“ The taller woman pushed past her angrily, standing a few steps away from her before finally turning to face her. "Close the door."

Jen just stared at her with mouth open a bit, cold uncertainty plaguing her body.

"Close the fucking door." Jamie repeated through gritted teeth, her voice sending shivers through Jen's body. The brunette did it at her command, closing and locking the door. And then she turned to face her.

Jamie didn't say anything for a few moments, quietly studying her on the spot. It made the smaller woman feel uneasy and more nervous than before.

"What's wro-" Jen prompted, but the other woman cut her off quickly. "It was you, wasn't it?" She questioned the producer, making sure her tone exposes just how much furious she is.

"Wasn't it?!" Jamie raised her voice, hands shaking a bit.

Panic rose in Jen’s stomach and that's when her worst nightmares were confirmed. Jamie had realized all of it. Of course she wasn't stupid or naive, far from it, but Jen thought that the girl next door would be too engaged in finding weaknesses in other contestants and searching for various advantages in the game, to unravel her plan. She broke her trust and Jen had feared that the woman in front of her wouldn't even listen to her explain it. "Yes.. it was me." The brunette raised her hands, mimicking a surrender as she stepped closer to her.

 Jamie was shaking her head, as Jen approached her slowly and continued. "You have to let me explain, Jamie, I did thi-"

"To what? To keep me in the competition?!" She was shouting at the brunette while barely glancing at her, not caring if anyone heard. If she was already being accused of sleeping with the crew, might as well give them the juice.

Jen stopped walking towards her and opened her mouth to say something, but once again was interrupted by the raging voice in the room.

"You really thought I was incapable of winning this on my own? All of those times you said you believed in me, none of it was true." Jen could sense a bit of sadness in her tone, as the angry expression on Jamie's face was mixed with a look of pleading. The brunette took a heavy breath and bowed her head down, focusing her gaze on the floor, too embarrassed to look her own contestant in the eye.

Jamie started pacing frantically through the control room, as she tried to collect her thoughts. Jen leaned on the table behind her, grabbing the edges as she steadied herself. She felt like she was holding on for dear life with how fast her heart was pacing, but she couldn't bear to look at Jamie right now. She betrayed her.

Jamie stopped suddenly in her tracks and turned to face her, crossing her arms across her chest. She let out a breath she didn't know how long she was holding in.

"But.. why did you do it, Jen?" She questioned her.

The producer stared at the floor for a few more moments that seemed like forever until she gathered the courage to face her again. She opened her mouth and her voice trembled a bit before finally stabilizing.

"All I wanted was to help you. To get you to the finale. That was the plan, the whole time." She tried to explain, managing to calm herself down a bit.

Jamie looked at her with an uncertain look as she asked. "When exactly did you plan it?"

Jen’s panicked focus was glued once more to the floor as she wrestled with her own thoughts and questions. This would only crush Jamie more, but she owed it to her. She didn’t even give Jamie a chance to include her in the plan.

"I told you, the game started as soon as you stepped on the set." She looked at the taller figure, bracing herself for whatever is to come.

Jamie stared at her for a while and then let out a small, barely audible gasp. Then she twisted her lips into a tight line. And suddenly everything becomes very clear.

END OF PART ONE

[eunhae-code]

if you were asked, by someone who is totally virgin in the eunhae ship, what are the moments that you find real proof of their relationship, what moments would you choose? (I am a shipper but i'm just bored rn and the eunhae tag seems really lonely lately ( I would totally ask this question to other blogs 😜))

Hmm a virgin (that whole paragraph and thats what I read):

My favorite moments ya ask?? I will give you a top 5 list!!

1: The infamous photo of Donghae with supposed “hickey” now I’m not a virgin and that is sure af a hickey. It’s not a lens glare, its not makeup. IDC what folks say, he ain’t get hit by a doorknob on his fookin NECK.

Long story short: Donghae put up a photo saying goodnight while him and Hyukkie are laying in bed. In the photo, his neck is VISIBLE with NO MARKINGS.

In the next photo of the morning there is a freaking hickey. Again, it’s in Hyukkie’s bedroom. Same backdrop and ELF are detectives: look at the top of his neck! There is a red marking that was NOT THERE which is visible bruising (college was wild, I’m an expert on hickies)

2: The background of my page: Hyukkie was riding on one of those moving cart things and Donghae was on part of the stage. When Hyukkie passed by him, he reached out and grabbed Donghae’s chin and puckered up his lips. Donghae went docile in his hands; aka submissive and waited for the kiss. Hyukkie didn’t kiss him, but seconds later looked COMPLETELY CONFUSED. Like he legit panicked for a second realizing what he ALMOST did.

 (LINK RIGHT HERE)

3: Mid 2012-early 2013: Hyukkie was ALL over Donghae. I’m talking CLINGY AF!!

Every.single.interview Hyukkie was practically begging for Donghae’s attention and true Eunhae fans remember the best one:

Kiss The Radio July 20, 2012.

The link is the summarized version, but if you watch the entire hour your mind will explode. This is also when most fans say they saw Hyukjae finally come out of his shell. In 2011, when he had blonde hair he was realllllly shy whenever Donghae got close (like that moment Hae tried to touch HyukJr) but when 2012 came, the roles reversed. Hyukjae was on Hae like WHITE ON RICE.

He was practically GLUED to his side and when it was time to take photos at the end, Hyukkie posed some very.odd.poses while shooting heart eyes at Hae. You’ll know what I’m talking about when you see it!

4: Every promotional period. When you sit these two guys next to each other or have them stand, they CANNOT STOP TOUCHING. It’s gotten to the point that literally every member around them will start touching them too. Siwon does erotic stuff too, like when he hugged Hyukkie shirtless: literally no one reacted. They were shirtless!!

Fully clothed Eunhae, everyone looks panicked. In a more recent one (go to 0:34, Hyukkie started patting Donghae on the chest. Normal right? Except Shindong immediately reacts and starts doing the same to Donghae and Hyukkie looks at him GUILTILY and looks like he’s trying to explain that it’s nothing but Shindong isn’t having it. He then looks straight towards the ground disappointed.

And this is all the time, that moment with Siwon and Hyukkie basically said one is fanservice and the other is not.

5: Jealousy.

This is probably the biggest determining factor because it comes from both sides. In the past, it was mostly Donghae. He’s like Heechul, what they dislike they say it and show it. He’s like a lion and Hyukjae is his prey. You touch his prey? He strikes. He slaps, pulls apart, kicks, and does whatever he can to get someone away from Hyukjae.

Hyukjae on the other hand is more exciting because up until a few years ago it was so subtle it was almost nonexistent. Again, 2011 was a huge factor in how much he began to open up. He’s not as aggressive as Donghae, but the statement remains true.

But my personal favorite moments of jealousy is when its subtle because its not expected. There’s nothing particularly dramatic happening, yet Hyukjae is glaring or biting his lower lip when Donghae hugs a fan.

I chose those specific ones because I’m human too. I’ve dated, I’ve slept with people. I know emotions, I know the deal. I’ve watched EunHae for almost 7 years and their interactions with each other are nothing like their interactions with the others. And it works because Donghae has supported Eunhyuk since day 1. Since when most folks thought he was ugly, when he was teased for his gummy smile: Hae was right next to him fighting those offenders. And that alone has to count for something.