#this actually would have got done maybe a day or two sooner but I’ve been super super sick the past week

[xskyll]

Todoroki: Baggage? This is a topic I can talk about. My friends always stop me when I try to discuss baggage…but they aren’t here. So…

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[rubyvhs]

berry vodka [jo harvelle]

masterlist

summary; too many shots lead to the confession you’ve been keeping inside for seven months. tags; bi!fem!reader, angst, fluff, insecurities in sexuality but no details, not proofread. — verse: berry vodka next part (smut)

“C’mon, Dean, I’ve done everything you’ve asked for, I’ve tried—”

“Wasn’t enough if the demon’s still out there!” His voice is so clear it makes me shake. I’ve known Dean for years and years, he’s hardly ever raised his voice at me. No one respects women more than he and his brother do, and not once have they yelled at me no matter what I did— and now he’s screaming, for what? Because I let some demon outsmart me for two seconds?

I scoff and storm out of the bedroom we were fighting in. It was a stupid hunt right next to Ellen’s hence why we’re staying at the roadhouse for the week, so i end up at the bar. 

Thankfully, so is my favorite blond. “Hey, Jo.” She smiles wide, waving, and in return dropping the shot glass in her hands to the counter.

“Hi, berry. You’ve been kind of hot and heavy with Dean these days. You okay?” I roll back so I’m sitting straight. 

“Thanks,” I blow a kiss when she hands me a Berry Vodka, “we’re ‘kay, he’s just being an asshole.” 

She agrees with me (though I’ve yet to tell her what he’s being an asshole about) which makes me lean forward on the bar. “I mean, I’m his friend and you’d think that after hunting together for so long he’d stop blaming me for guys hitting on me.”

Her eyes widen and this time she almost drops the glass on accident, though it’s hardly a close call as she easily regains her composure. “He— what?” 

“What?”

“Dean what?”

“He got mad at me?”

“For guys flirting?”

“Yes.”

“Why—” she clears her throat and looks back down at her work, still moving, “why would he— why? Is he like— does he like you?”

“Does Dean—” I let out a laugh, “does Dean like me? Did hell freeze over? No, of course not. He’s not jealous, he’s overprotective. He’s being an ass but he isn’t in love with me.”

“Good,” she lets out a small breath and my heart seizes. Yeah, of course it’s good. Jo’s always been in love with Dean, him liking me would cause a bit of an issue. “I mean— whatever. Yeah. Anyways, why’s he fighting with you anyways?”

“I let a demon go. Thought he was an overly eager guy so I sent him on his way.”

“How’s that your fault?”

“He… might have mentioned he’s a demon— but I thought he was trying to be funny or something, I didn’t know he actually was one. Turns out he wanted to find Sam and Dean. He has something on Yellow Eyes.”

“You guys getting close, then?” One quick nod. The heavy alcohol in the drink burns as I try to finish as much of it as possible at once. I hand it back to Jo and ask for just shots. “You sure?” Another nod.

I need to let go tonight if I’ll be awake and attentive with the guys tomorrow on their wild goose chase. She hands me one shot and I shake my head. She furrowed her eyebrows. “C’mon Jo, I’ll pay.”

“That’s not it and you know it. You can’t drink.” 

“What does that even—” she glared at me and maybe, okay, so sometimes I get a little crazy when I’m drunk but so what? I just flirt and dance, it isn’t like I hurt anyone. Besides, waking up with someone in my bed tomorrow could maybe solve all my problems. “Let me have it, Jo. I just need one night, I deserve it.” That seems like the magic word for everyone in my life at the moment. 

I die for Dean once and suddenly I have a free pass for the rest of my life. If I’d known, I would’ve died for the jackass sooner. Sam brought me back the same day but still— everyone lets me have it.

She stares at me like she’s contemplating it and then gives in with a sigh. From that point on I’m being served shot after shot and I’m more than sure my tab is so high I won’t be able to pay half of it when the night ends. Jo starts serving me much cheaper brands as the night went on— I’m sure she knows that too.

Three shots later, I’m still sober enough to taste the vodka cheapening. “Jooo,” I draw out her name, “you’re not doin’ enough! I need to get drunk, not bored.”

“Slow down, honey.” I shake my head though my ears heat up at the endearment. No time for that now. Two shots more and I’m officially buzzed. Buzzed enough to not notice Dean sit down next to me. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” I shake my head quickly and stand up mumbling something about it being a good night and he seems to take the rejection well, sitting in place as I walk to the empty pool table. 

Immediately as I’m racking the balls up, someone’s hands are on my waist. “You wanna give me a round, honey?” And because I literally have nothing better to do, I let the Sam-height, almost Cass-level-hot guy play pool with me.

His facial hair covers most of his face, which actually looks way too good, but his blue eyes look really really beautiful and I can’t stop staring. “Yes. Yeah.” He smirks and moves his hands away.

“What are we playing for?” I almost answer, I’m not sure what to say, before his deep voice comes from behind me. His hands aren’t on my waist, but he might as well swallow me whole if he’ll make me feel this small. 

“A hundred bucks, how about that, man?” 

“And who are you?”

“Her friend.” Dean has a hand on my shoulder. Asking loudly enough for the other guy to hear, “you mind me playin’, sweetheart?” 

Obviously, I shake my head and we get started. I’m winning so far, the guy— Stefan or something— is downright embarrassing at the game. Dean is letting me and I’m drunk enough to not care. Three more hits and i sigh. “I want drinks.”

Stefan perks up from his round, “I’ll go get ‘em. What do you drink, honey?” He asked for my name ages ago and I gave it but he doesn’t seem to like it.

“I will go get them.” Dean decides and taps the taller man’s shoulder once. That’s smart. I’m not sure why it is— but it is. Stefan’s closer now. Too close.

“I like girls.” I whisper, or blurt, or something that means I say it so fast and so low that I don’t hear or understand it myself.

“You— what?”

“I’m into girls. M’sorry. You’re so close. M’not kissing you.”

“Yeah, I— I wasn’t.” He furrowed his eyebrows but I just shrugged and moved further back. “Did I make you uncomfortable?” I mean, he asked me if I wanted another round by trapping me into the pool table.

I must’ve said it outloud because, “I didn’t trap you, I mean, I held you but that’s because you were kinda off your feet. I apologize if—”

“Oh. M’sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. It isn’t your fault.”

“Good.” I smile and move closer now. He’s warm when I’m not worried he’s trying to get in my pants. I’m not exclusively into girls— only half way, I’m bi, but it seemed like the easiest way to disgust and run away a man.

We talk, enough for me to know his dogs name and for him to know that Dean means well, he’s just worried because I’m drunk, and that he isn’t my boyfriend. 

“You sure? Does he know that?” I glance over at the hunter, speaking to Jo with those twinkling green eyes.

I nod once and tell him we should keep playing. Dean seems occupied. We keep going and set the balls up evenly again. The first round I’ve won two hundred from both men, then we decided to play for nothing and I’m regretting it cause I could’ve really made my bill if I kept receiving money with the way I’m winning. 

“You’re good.” He’s sweet. I get his number and we talk— promise to keep in touch for when I come back to town and just as he’s about to leave I catch up with him.

“Stefan,” I call out once and then I trip over something. Faster than light, I’m already draped over his arm. Falling and whatever. He wants to say something but I quickly straighten up to kiss him, moving my fingers through his hair. He seems to enjoy that, pulling me closer. Then he pulls away.

“How much have you been drinking?”

“What?” That’s not a question you ask someone that’s sleeping with you. Or planning to.

“How many drinks?”

“I— I don’t know like so little,” he shakes his head, “only five.”

“Five?”

“Shots.” He lets out a scoff and walks me back to the bar. I’m sure I’m pouting by both the looks on Dean and Jo’s faces and by the pull of my mine. And maybe Stefan’s laugh. He hands me off to them and I wave at him. He makes me promise to call tomorrow and I nod. “He was so nice. Why don’t nice guys go for me?” I groan, banging my head against the wood of the bar softly. 

“That’s not true.” I know it’s Jo who says that which makes it even worse. Of course you’d think that. You’re trying to get me to leave so you can suck Dean’s face off. It’s not fair. He gets all the girls. Always. Even the ones I really like. 

“Whatever.” I take out the two hundred and hand it to Jo. “Keep it.”

“Berry, that’s a hundred and twenty five tip.”

I shrug and stand out of the chair. “M’gonna go to sleep.” Heading up the stairs proves to be a lot harder than i initially planned and so I just give up halfway through and sit down with my head in my hands and tears flowing too fast for me to comprehend why they’re there. This sucks. Having feelings suck. Why can’t I be an angel or demon or something devoid of emotions? Why can’t I be heartless like— I don’t know— Dean! 

“Ouch, sweetheart.” I need to stop speaking my thoughts out loud. “I agree with you there. What’s wrong, berry?” 

“I hate that stupid nickname.”

He frowns, sitting down next to me, a step below. “Why’s that?”

“‘Cause she came up with it and s’not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“That she likes you. She always likes you. And I like you too, De, but this is so annoying like why can’t she love me! Why am I not enough to love? S’it ‘cause I’m not a man? I don’t wanna be a stupid man, I like being a girl. Why can’t girls just like me without me being a guy!” I cant even comprehend the words before they’re out and I just wish Dean would hold me and comfort me. Or maybe make Jo fall in love with me magically.

“Who likes me, berry?”

“Jo! Stupid Jo! And I’ve been the best friend ever and she still doesn’t like me. She’ll never like me and it’s ‘cause I’m a girl.” Deans beautiful face scrunches up into a frown and he shakes his head.

“D’ya tell her you like her?” No. “Well there you go. You need to tell her so you can know if she likes you back or not.”

“N’what if she doesn’t?”

“I’ll still love you.” I smile at the words, “and Jo will always be your friend.” Who are you and what have you done with Dean? “Oh, shut up.”

“Dean,” I whisper after a moment. “Can you tell Jo?” 

He shakes his head.

“Can Sam tell her?” He shakes his head again.

“Tell who what?” Oh that’s Jo.

“Tell you I like you.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dean leave a room, or staircase, as fast as he just did. Ever. “Like you like you. Like i want to kiss you all day and I want to hold you— but I can’t ‘cause you like Dean.”

Her eyes are still wide which probably mean she hates me now but my legs aren’t working so I don’t stand up, just wallow in my  guilt and failure in front of her. 

“Berry, you mean it?” I nod once but keep my head down. Her soft fingers hook under my chin and I look up at her. She’s closer now. Very very much closer. Close enough for me to taste the vanilla perfume i got for her last birthday. She’s close enough to—

Jo’s kissing me. Jo Harvelle’s lips are moving against mine, gentle, but desperate. Hard and soft. Everything all at once and it’s better than I could’ve imagined. I think it’s so good i forget to kiss back because she stops to backtrack, small stutters of I’m sorry and I shouldn’t so I quickly stand up (wow, my legs are back) and kiss her a little too roughly I slip my tongue in there. 

“Jo,” I moan against her mouth and she nods but doesn’t acknowledge it. I’m sobering up. Too sober to be in a situation I’ve imagined a thousand times a day for the past seven months. 

“Jo, bedroom— please.” She nods quicker this time and pulls away enough for me to breathe and take the image of her kiss-flushed face in. She’s everything I’ve ever imagined and needed but I can’t do this.

“Jo, I can’t—” she stops right in front of her room. “I don’t— I love you. And I can be here for you if you’re… I don’t know experimenting but, you need to tell me. I can’t just be a phase, Jo.”

“M’not. C’mon, hey,” she presses another kiss on my lips, slow, “I love you too. You know that. You must’ve known that I’ve loved you ever since you and those idiots came into the roadhouse, but you’re just, you know so much and I didn’t know if you’d ever want someone who doesn’t even know their own sexuality or—”

Now it’s my turn to shut her up with a kiss and I push us into her room. “Shut up. So are we—”

“Yes.” She smiles against me. “You’re mine, berry.”

[p0ssywhippedcream]

I'm back again! So for me, all the one-shots where Percy is being a shit to y/n are like a series of  a toxic relationship, and I WANT HIM TO SUFFER SO BAD. It could be because I despise assholes or because he reminds me too much of my shitty ex (Percy, I adore you, but this is personal now).

Yes, my ex wasn't over his ex while being with me and told me that he preferred to still have the 140 pictures (yes, I remember this detail) of her than be with me.

Like I said before, I would love fluff, but I need vengeance! I NEED IT!

So please, I beg you! Write something that will fulfill my soul; I know you can. I only want him to pay, nothing else.

Love, THE Anon 🧚

I've tried to figure out how to say "fuck your ex" in a creative way but low-key im too tired he's just a douche n im so happy you know you deserve better n you're not with him!!! Also I wrote this sleep deprived on a 8 hour flight n actually kinda hate it but I promised so I deliver.

48 times. 48 times Percy’s called you and 48 times you haven’t picked up. It’s been about two weeks since you left and he hasn’t heard a lick of you, complete silence on your end.

For a while he respected the wall you’d put up, only because he didn’t miss what was behind it. He had Annabeth, his best friend and he didn’t need you.

Then earlier, he was doing the dishes with his mom. She was drying and he was washing and maybe he would’ve noticed her silence sooner if he wasn’t zeroed in on scrubbing off a chunk of fried egg.

When he finally looked up, Percy noticed her staring out the window with the look she only got when she was thinking of his dad and nudged her gently.

“Mom?”

Sally turned and met his questioning gaze. Her eyes were less sad, more reminiscent.

“Sometimes I just wonder, what it would have been like if he stayed.”

Percy nods, thinking of the man in the next room who stepped in the empty role his father left behind.

“I love Paul, my life now, but I just know that... maybe if he tried a little harder, you could have had it a little easier… I won’t ever forget the love I had for him because it gave me you, but I don’t think I’ll ever forgive it either.”

And now he’s sitting on his bed, slumped over his phone with so many wonders. Could you ever forgive him? Why was it so easy to let you go if it hurts so bad now? 

He calls you again, gets your up-beat ringtone and can’t help the surge of anger. It’s misdirected, you don’t deserve it and it immediately returns full force his way with a guilt tenfold.

So he calls you again and you tell him to leave a message at the beep. He hangs up before he can hear it.

His thumb hovers over the little phone on his screen, 50 times is pushing it.

He gives you a break, and waits, and waits, and waits.

And an hour later, his phone rings and he practically pounces on the device. It’s your smiling face shining up at him and your concerned voice echoing when he picks up.

“Percy? You okay? What’s going on?”

“I-I’m okay, I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Percy,” You sigh, “I was seriously freaked out, I thought you might be dying or something.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

He heard you take a breath, holding one of his own.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I’m- I’m sorry. I’m really sorry and really stupid and I should’ve apologized so much sooner.”

“Yeah, I know.” He winces, “Anything else?” 

“Annabeth doesn’t mean anything to me that way, it’s you. It’s always been you and I’ve been too blind to see the obvious. I thought I needed her still because I knew I could never ask you to be what she was.”

You don’t say anything, he’s compelled to go on but a little scared he’s already messed up.

“Percy, there’s so much wrong with everything you just said but I don’t have the energy to correct you. I’m tired, it’s been a long day and I really just can’t do this, okay?”

“Wait, p-please,” His voice cracks and he makes no attempt to cover it. “Can you just listen to me?”

“No, I can’t. When I said I was done, I meant it. Don’t call me again.”

And with that, the phone call is over. The dial tone is a harsh contrast to your soft voice, it breaks his heart a little more. He misses you a little more when he pulls the phone away from his ear and sees what he could have had in your profile picture. He hates himself a little more when the next number he’s calling is Annabeth’s and she’s picking up with a care in her tone he only wants to hear from you.

[onstrangerthighs]

I'll Find You (Today, Tomorrow, and Yesterday)

For @billyhargrovebingo

TW: suicidal thoughts

--Chapter One: The Funeral--

He stares anywhere but at the framed picture of a clean-cut Billy Hargrove, dressed in a white button-up shirt, something Steve is sure he wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing. In the photo, Billy’s all teeth, his face pulled taut like a rubber band at its limit. A fake smile if Steve ever saw one.

Did he ever see Billy with a real smile?

Yes. Shirts vs. Skins, that day in gym class. He had worn a tired but cheeky grin, cerulean eyes locked on Steve; a famished lion hungry for a challenge, and then some.

He picks at a loose blue thread— the same shade as his eyes.

Steve’s parents had flown in two days earlier when word reached them about Starcourt. Nothing about what really happened, just the official cover story everyone agreed to tell. The last words Steve spoke before going completely mute were “Billy saved us.”

“That color suits you, son,” his mother said as she straightened his collar, something she hadn’t done since he was ten. They’d actually sat together as a family back then.

He’d looked in the mirror on his way out and couldn’t place why, but he’d gotten a little choked up. Yeah, blue looks good on me.

It looked better on Billy.

“Quite the turn out, huh?” Tommy’s voice is the quietest it’s ever been.

Steve scoffs. School had been canceled so everyone would be able to attend the service, so majority of “grievers” were just happy to get a day off.

“He-uh-liked you.”

The program scrunches up in his tightening grip.

“He asked a bunch of questions, wanted to know all about ‘King Steve’,” Tommy laughs hollowly. “He... really came alive around you.”

A lone tear rebels against Steve’s dry eyes and onto the paper.

“If Billy were here right now, ya know what he’d say?”

You only knew him for a few minutes. Then again, Billy did have this strange effect on people, himself included, where he made such an impression that it was like you’d known him forever. He left you breathless, always wanting more of him.

Tommy goes to hug Steve, but instead settles for a shoulder pat, leaving a space that doesn’t stay empty for long.

Was that what happened when people died? Did they just… get replaced?

As Nancy would say, bullshit. Some holes can never be filled by anyone*.* Billy was a tough act to follow. He wasn’t meant to be replaced. He wasn’t meant to die.

It’s far too sunny for a day like this.

“Max is trying to get her mother out of the bathroom,” El - oh, that’s who’s sitting next to him- says. She holds a tissue box close to her chest and squeezes his fist. “Billy was special to me, too. He was a hero, Steve.”

Look what that got him. He died for a town that didn’t give a shit about him when he was alive. He should be here.

“Sometimes I think he should’ve let the Mind Flayer take me. But that wasn’t who Billy was. He was the hero we all needed, and he never got saved. Mike says I’m one a lot… I don’t think any of us are.”

This girl really is much too wise for her age. If anyone knew the real Billy, it’d be El, who had started calling him her big brother.

“You met him. During basketball. You-” El pauses, looking at him sadly before continuing, “you were one of his happy memories. He didn’t have many.”

If he were alive, maybe I’d be brave enough to tell him he made me happy, too. At least I put a smile on his face, even if it was only for a couple of minutes. It was special to him. Was I-

No. No use in going down that road. If only… I’d known sooner how cruel summer could be to stars in Indiana.

“I’ve got you,” Max assures her wobbly mother as she half-drags her dead weight to their seats. When they pass by Steve, they don’t look at him. Susan smells like she drank an entire liquor store in preparation to face her dead stepson one last time, and when Jonathan leaves his own torn family to offer some help, Max hisses at him, “Help? A little late for that, don’t you think?”

Jonathan opens and closes his mouth, because he really can’t argue otherwise. Neither can Steve. Nancy watches the tense exchange from a distance with haunted eyes.

“We… we didn’t kill him, Steve.” She’d whispered over the phone two nights prior, sounding just as guilty as he felt all the same.

“Yeah? Well, we sure as hell didn’t try to help him, either.”

Before Billy’s coffin is lowered into the ground, everyone gets in line with flowers to lay on it… him. Max goes first, barely holding back tears as she sobs her goodbyes. El abandons Steve’s side to hug Joyce, which is understandable. He’s not exactly the warmest person.

“I can’t do this,” Susan cries loudly, dropping her flower.

“Mom! You promised! You said you would do this for him!” Max pleads, hiccupping.

“None of us should be here.”

“Mom, what are you-”

Susan pulls away from her and kneels down beside the coffin, trembling. “I failed him. He was so young! It’s all my fault! All this damned town’s fault! We killed Billy!”

We killed Billy.

As soon as they arrive home, Steve runs to the bathroom and vomits his breakfast. His parents don’t bother checking on him. They’re probably already gone. Now it’s just him and his guilt. He counts sheep until eventually falling asleep. Every few hours he wakes up screaming for Billy to run. To get back in his Camaro and keep driving.

At 12: 00 am, his own screams scare him awake, and his nailed bat isn’t by his bedside like it usually is.

2: 00 am… he pretty much gives up on getting in the mandatory 8 hours. He hasn’t slept since this whole mess with the Upside Down, when he learned that monsters were real. He stares holes through his ceiling. Billy died not even knowing what the fuck was going on. Why didn’t we tell him? So what if it was supposed to be a secret? He deserved to know.

And yet…

You punched him. Your last words to him were “get out.” You could’ve opened the fridge! You could’ve shown him the creepy ass demo-whatever. You never say the right thing, do you? You’ve wasted words and started fights. So many mistakes.

Oh, and you lied to him about his sister. He looked at you like you were a freak. Now you’re feeling sorry for yourself while he’s seven feet under? Typical.

If I could fix it, trust me, I would!

Gifts won’t bring me back, Harrington.

I know.

2: 45 am, and Steve finally dozes off, praying for the first time since his first communion… begging God to kill him.

[demonologue]

Two Narcissists Walk into a Bar

More bloodweave fanfiction. Inspired by this screen cap:

Twinned Spell

Summary: Astarion and Gale make their own fun at Sharess' Caress.

Sometimes Astarion liked to watch Gale when no one was looking. It wasn’t because he had any sort of feeling for the famed wizard. Had they enjoyed one another’s company since that astral journey a tenday ago? Yes. But it had been sex, pure and simple, and both of them were just fine leaving it at that. Companionship was not something that Astarion desired. He could quit Gale any time he wanted. 

And it wasn’t as though Astarion cared if any of the others saw him watching Gale. The trouble was, Gale didn’t seem to watch him anymore. So Astarion was not about to be caught doing it when Gale wasn’t doing it. Besides, Astarion liked to maintain plausible deniability, always. 

The trouble was, for someone who was usually blunt and to the point, Gale had been giving mixed signals of late. Around the others, he showed little more than a polite benevolence where Astarion was concerned. But when they were alone, he was often far more interested in the vampire spawn. Affectionate was a word he might have used to describe their nights reading together in Gale’s tent, but that was not a word Astarion just bandied about. And then there was the fact Gale did things to Astarion. Things no one had ever done to him before. And that was worth noting. Intellectually, of course. 

Tonight at Sharess’ Caress, Gale’s usual polite, mild manner indicated he did not mind their surroundings, but his expression showed that he disapproved of Tav’s decision to take one of the drow twins upstairs. Meanwhile, this was the first thing Tav had done in days which Astarion actually approved of. It was high time the holier-than-thou druid got his crank turned by someone. Who knew? Maybe it would loosen him up a bit. But why was Gale’s formidable brow drawn down? In some ways, Astarion had to admit, Gale was terribly old fashioned. He rather liked that, most of the time. It made Astarion feel young. 

While he pondered these things, Jaheira had gone to gather what information she could from other patrons at the bar. That left just the two of them. Astarion nodded toward an empty table up the stairs. “No sense standing around waiting for him to finish his ten seconds in heaven. They usually stock a vaguely palatable vintage here.” 

Now Gale had that glazed look in his eye that meant he’d overexerted himself again physically but refused to say so in case anyone suspected him of not being able to keep up with the group. They had been walking for most of today without a break. Astarion carefully leaned into Gale’s field of vision and offered a charming smile. “Care to join me? When I drink alone in these sorts of establishments, I’m usually propositioned sooner rather than later, and I’d just as soon not deal with any of that today.”

At that, Gale seemed to come to. “What? Ah. Yes. It would be my pleasure to serve as your…” 

No. Was he about to define their relationship? “Drinking companion?” Astarion volunteered, before the silence went on too long.

“Unwanted advance-deterrent?” Gale offered. 

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like a date.” Pleased, Astarion sauntered over to the table. 

“A date.” Gale verbally pondered the word, his tone indicating he was not quite sure what it meant.

“Care to buy a devastatingly handsome elf a drink?” 

Gale made a show of looking around the tavern. “I may consider it. Where is he?” 

“Oh, har, har. How droll.” But Astarion was vaguely amused in spite of himself. Gale’s old man sense of humor was growing on him. 

The wizard sat down with an audible sigh of relief and removed his wide-brimmed hat, placing it on the table. “And what do you suppose said elf would find tolerable to drink?” 

Astarion strategically chose the seat next to him and leaned one elbow on the table, getting comfortable. “Well, I’ve heard there’s a lovely aged Waterdhavian vintage here with just a touch of Netherese spice to it.”

“Astarion.” Gale surprised him by boldly placing his hand over the rogue’s off-hand. “I’ve told you, and I’m firm in this: you may not drink my blood.” 

Astarion pouted, but he could feel the warmth in his cheeks at such a public display of affection. “Fine. I suppose just wine will do.”

“Very well.” Gale took his hand back to signal the barmaid. “Don’t sulk,” he said, after she’d taken their order. “You’ll get frown lines.” 

“But I can’t get frown lines,” Astarion said, immediately concerned. “I don’t age!”

“Ah.” Gale observed him quietly for a few moments. “Then I withdraw my statement.” 

“You bastard!” Astarion didn’t like the way that pause had felt. “Do I have frown lines?” He reached up to touch his face, trying to feel for any wrinkles. “If I do, you have to tell me. You know I can’t see my own face!” 

“Calm yourself, friend.” Gale began to move his hands in that way that meant he was casting a spell, and suddenly there was an illusion of Astarion’s face looking back at him from across the table. At least, he thought it was his face. It looked quite familiar. 

“Is that what I look like?” he asked, leaning forward for a closer look. 

“For the most part,” Gale said. “So far as art can imitate life.” 

Astarion studied his face carefully. “I don’t have frown lines!” 

“I might have taken a few liberties. Notice that I portrayed you smiling.” 

“I smile,” Astarion said, offended. “Constantly!”

“Like right now, perhaps?” 

Astarion’s pout turned into a scowl. “Well I would be if you hadn’t ruined a perfectly good date by bringing up frown lines.” The barmaid arrived with their wine and Astarion snatched his glass from the tray. 

Gale thanked her and gave a large tip to make up for Astarion’s ill-temper. “Shall I dismiss it?” he asked.

“I’m not finished looking at myself yet.” Astarion rested his chin on his fist, examining the illusion. 

“Perhaps I should leave the two of you alone,” Gale suggested, making as if to get up from the table. 

“No.” Astarion put one leg up across the wizard’s lap, preventing him from leaving. “Gorgeous as this fellow is, I’m not half done with you.” 

“Well,” Gale said, raising his glass. “I suppose I have but to wait then.” 

“Do you think my nose is too long?” Astarion asked, pinching and fussing over it. 

Gale considered this. Perhaps he was just thinking of the right way to answer. “I think it is the exact size it should be in proportion to the rest of your face.”   

“That’s easy for you to say,” Astarion said. “You can just grow a beard to distract from whatever you might have going on.” And a sexy beard it was, too. Not that Astarion was going to tell him so.

The pause that preceded Gale’s amused smile said everything. “I’ve always found facial hair can cover a world of sins.” 

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Astarion huffed. “Of course you’re quite handsome.” 

“Are you sure of that?” Gale asked, teasing. “There might be anything hiding under this beard.” 

“Stop.” Astarion leaned forward, stroking his fingers through the sexy beard in question. “Don’t force me to be honest in public.” 

“Perish the thought.” But Gale was smiling. 

“If you’re going to keep teasing me, I need more wine,” Astarion announced. 

“By all means.”  

Two bottles later, it wasn’t just Astarion’s leg stretched across Gale’s lap. With both of his arms curled around the wizard’s shoulders, Astarion seemed to have made himself quite comfortable there. “Diverting as this is,” Gale began, when Astarion finally let him up for air, “have a care for my poor knees?”  

The vampire was quite put out, but he did carefully extricate himself from Gale’s lap. “Fine. But we will revisit this…later,” he growled. If Gale thought he was going to get away with teasing Astarion’s love for exhibition and then stopping cold, he was sadly mistaken. 

The wizard nodded cordially. “Then I shall consider myself invited to your tent this evening.” 

Astarion’s only answer was a promising smolder. Time to change the subject. “What’s taking Tav so long?” he complained, taking out his ire on his usual target. “I gave him five minutes at most.” 

“In my experience, it’s wise not to underestimate a professional.” 

“In your experience?” Why did the thought of Gale with a ‘professional’ make his belly writhe so? “With whom?” 

“Any number of professionals,” the wizard replied blandly. “Butchers, bakers, candlestick makers. The employees of Sharess’ Caress are no different in their professionalism.” 

Teasing, then. Again. “Gale Dekarios. You really are…something.” It charmed and aggravated Astarion both at once. 

“I’ve always thought so,” Gale said modestly. “Would you mind going to the bar and getting me another?” He raised his empty tumbler. 

Astarion was annoyed to find the barmaid seemed to have disappeared. “Alright. But don’t tell Tav I’ve been doing any favors. I don’t want him to get the wrong impression of me.” 

Gale’s knowing smirk was a perfect compliment to his sexy beard. “You have my word.”

As Astarion turned to walk away, an invisible hand touched him in a way so unexpected, he nearly leapt into the rafters. He whirled around, aroused and furious. “Do that again, Gale, and I don’t give a damn about your poor knees, I will have you on this very table.”

The wizard returned an innocent look. “Is there something wrong, Astarion?” 

“Just wait until we’re back at camp,” Astarion said. “You have no idea what–” His threat was cut off by the crash of a glass bottle hitting the ground.

Gale looked at the bottle he’d just dropped like a cat who has knocked a glass from a table. “Rough tempest." He shrugged. "Would you mind fetching a broom from that cupboard over there?”

“Do I look like the help?” Astarion snapped. 

“Hardly,” Gale replied. “Now please do as I’ve asked.”

It took Astarion several deep breaths and a silent death wish to realize Gale must be up to something. That piqued his curiosity, so he did go over to the broom cupboard, but with no intentions of helping clean. He’d no sooner set foot inside than the door snapped shut behind him. 

“Wot in the hells–?” But any expletive he may have been about to utter quickly disappeared from Astarion’s lips as the mage hand that had assaulted him earlier made a reappearance. And it was not alone. 

*

Gale listened stoically as Astarion’s exclamation of surprise from inside the cupboard turned to moans of pleasure and gradually evolved into shouts of ecstasy. His melodious voice grew louder and louder until it began to draw attention, even in the crowded brothel. Gale sipped his Chultan Fireswill slowly, savoring both Astarion and his drink while making certain the arcane lock on the door to the cupboard remained untouched. 

Few wizards had the brilliance, talent or mastery to cast mage hand as a twinned spell. But then, Gale of Waterdeep was not just any wizard.   

[lynzishell]

List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to 10 simblrs whose sims you adore ♥♥♥

TYSM for this ask!!! 💖

Okay! Up next from last week’s poll is my MC: ✨Phoenix Realta✨

❄️He loves to cook… as you may have guessed considering he’s always the one cooking every meal.  But… a little background (and I’ll split this into two)… He grew up poor and his mom wasn’t big on cooking, so the times when his kitchen was stocked, it consisted of a lot of frozen and canned/boxed meals like soup, tuna, mac and cheese, and frozen pizza. His favorite thing growing up was peanut butter and banana on toast. He’d toast the bread so that the peanut butter would be all melty and gooey.

❄️He learned how to cook properly from Julian during the year he lived with him in Copperdale. It was the only real quality time they spent together, but they both really enjoyed it. When Phoenix moved to the city, he fell in love with the variety of food and restaurants available. He started collecting cookbooks and watching cooking shows to learn more and more complicated recipes. It can be difficult to cook for only 1-2 people, so it’s nice that Atlas and Asher come over for dinner every Sunday. (fun fact: all of these things are very important to the future of Aspen’s story btw)

❄️The man cannot sit still. He’s even worse than Dawn in that regard. He always needs to be doing something. He actually misses the days when he was training and climbing to prepare for the Mt. Komorebi excursion. It kept him busy and active all the time. After that was over, it was kind of a bittersweet moment, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. So, he got into running. Luckily, Aspen keeps him quite busy now, but he still runs every day, rain or shine.

❄️He is very much addicted to coffee and has been for years. He likes it strong and black. He can’t start his day without it, and he drinks multiple cups throughout the day, especially at work. At this point, he can barely function without it and gets really bad headaches if he goes a day without a cup.

❄️And, of course, he’s a new father! And he is soooo happy! Aspen is a lot of work, but like I said, Phoenix always needs to be up doing something, so he’s happy to be taking care of her. He’s just so grateful she’s finally here. 🥹 And honestly, he’s pretty bummed about having to go back to work sooner than expected. I think there’s a part of him that would’ve loved to be the one staying home with Aspen. Once Dawn mentioned wanting to stay home, I think a part of him wanted to say that he does too and maybe she should be the one to go back since she makes more money. Instead, he signed himself up for a more demanding, higher paying, career path, and cut his own time at home short, so that he could support Dawn in staying home with their daughter. It’s in his nature to put her first, and he genuinely wants to do whatever he can to make her happy, that’s his priority, but I don’t think we should ignore the immense sacrifice he's making. He doesn’t want to be away from Aspen or miss out on any big moments in her development any more than Dawn does, but he also doesn’t feel right about taking that away from her. My heart kinda aches for him a little, y’know.

I love him so much! And it’s been too long since I’ve gotten in his head and done a proper character development exercise for him, so I really enjoyed this! TYSM for sending me this ask!! 🫶🏻

[yourqueenb]

Thank you for your answer, and thank you for putting so much thought into that 💞💞💞 mal and nia are my main LIs and at first I was really glad that at least two members of the party stayed with each other and mb even got closer but I can see how it would be annoying and/or sad for people who romance one of them exclusively. I think that I mostly just want to see eeal bonds between our party bc idk it just feels a bit hollow? In the first book they were just thrown together by chance but a whole year has passed and without MC there to hold them together it just shows how much less there is with exception of some banter and general sympathy towards one another. I also think that excluding Threep and other non-romancable characters from the main friend group makes most of the dynamic in choices hollow bc lmao all these people are here to try and fuck us and no one cares about each other beyond that. I don't really like TRR or TF but I feel like friendship was so much richer in previous books, like those two series, OH and TE - and in PM they managed to create a poly route where I could feel solid platonic bonds between people other than MC and LIs (Sloane and Hayden, Steve and Hayden or Damien and Nadia). Or mb I'm just a bit underwhelmed with the current plot course in blades lmao (sorry for rambling around the same three thoughts I just can't seem to gather my thoughts on this whole thing together 🫡)

I’m so sorry, I meant to respond to this sooner. But no, I completely get what you’re saying! You made some good points.

Even though all of these characters were kind of thrown together in book 1, personally I did feel like they were more like a family by the end of it. And I think that’s one of the reasons why everyone loved Blades so much. However, I do understand why the bonds aren’t as tight in this book. It makes sense for there to be some distance between everyone after what happened to MC and the apparent strife it caused. But I feel like they haven’t done enough to fully bring the group back together again and reform those poignant emotional bonds.

As you basically said with the exception of some banter and general sympathy towards one another, pretty much all of the focus is on each member’s relationship with MC alone. And even those relationships are very one sided with each person relying on MC for support, but not giving much in return. When the main cast is tied together by genuine relationships with each other rather than simply all waiting for their turns in MC’s bed, it’s really great to see and makes for a better book overall. That’s why the Pend Pals are still my personal favorite friend group to this day.

I will say that I actually don’t feel like the relationship dynamics in Blades specifically are hollow because everyone’s trying to sleep with MC though. And maybe that’s because I’m only romancing Mal (and flirting with Aerin on the side). But yeah, I think it’s because the writers have really been ignoring the opportunities to capitalize off of emotional beats (which I’ve said a few times before) rather than the characters just not having more to their relationships at all

[attackradish]

Hello my mental health is the worst it’s been all year. If not longer

I could verify this by going through my vent tag but I am not going to because that takes time. This trait of mine is part of the problem but I’m not in a place to fix that right now.

ANYWAYS why am I like this. I have some inklings as to why.

Work is now opening an hour sooner. Meaning I have to wake up earlier and I have been losing sleep as a result. This is not good for the Mental Health

Current drama with a coworker that I am not going to go into that because it’s complicated and rather stupid.

Today was supposed to be my Tax Day where I did my Taxes but I was hit by dread this morning so I didn’t get around to it until like 5PM and then realized I don’t have one of my W2 forms and I can’t go looking around for that because my dad will tell me how stupid I am and how I never care about anything and am doing this on purpose. And I actually can’t care about anything I feel, but it’s not like I’m not trying it’s just that I have no soul.

I cannot give my friends the attention they deserve. I am burnt out I have no energy left for being a friend and yet there are people who miss me. And I can’t be there often enough for them not to miss me. I am neglecting them and I am a terrible person but I need to be alone.

I really do feel that I have reached my full potential. There is simply not enough caring or gumption or whatever it is I’m missing in this body of mine to achieve anything further. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to move out or date or even get a job I like better than DQ. I’m done being closeted in my parents house and I’m ready to quit early.

I can’t quit early. Firstoff I have friends who care about me, and I can’t imagine what it’d do to them. I’ve got a baby niece in the house too who smiles when she sees me so I gotta live for her too. And that’s not mentioning how difficult and impractical non-painful methods of dying are. Seriously. Best option I have is locking myself in the walk in freezer with a CO2 canister, but I learned from a cool book I read that high concentrations of CO2 will make you feel like you’re suffocating, and the best gas for that purpose is Nitrogen. Which costs money and is very conspicuous.

I also don’t want to die. I just want the suffering to be over, and death really seems to be the only way out aside from Miracles like universal housing passing within the next year or two, or I attain Godhood and can just do as I please. I think about dying and it makes me want to cry. Being on the verge of tears for long periods of time really does something for my perception of my mental health, being that I haven’t been like this since the family dog died. Maybe crying would do me good.

I should probably get a therapist but I don’t have time or energy for my friends, scheduling these things takes time and effort and I don’t want to have to talk to my parents about it. I should probably get antidepressants. Also my laundry basket from yesterday isn’t even all the way filled up and it’s 9:58. And I have work tomorrow but no uniforms. God I just need to rest.

BUT HERE’S THE THING ABOUT REST. I’VE ALREADY HAD A WEEK OFF OF WORK BECAUSE OF THE FEVER. MY JOB IS UNDERSTAFFED AND I CANT MAKE THEM SUFFER THROUGH THAT AGAIN AT SUCH SHORT NOTICE.

Anyways I have been putting no effort into finding a place since like last year, or finding a therapist. Or really anything. I’m not sure if I can even do that. I have reached my limit. I’m simply not much substance. I’m nice to have around and talk to but quite frankly I don’t have it in me to actually survive on my own. I don’t have it in me to die either. So who knows what is going to happen. I’m going to rot forever. Dying a slow death with nothing but fantasy to dull the edges.

I have a friend who’s offered to let me crash at their place, but I can’t take them up on that offer because I’ll just be the same lifeless rock that I am. Forever. And I can’t do that to them. If I can’t break free on my own then I’m afraid I never will. My chrysalis will just stay gathering dust. Sapping resources. I need to grow wings but I don’t know if I can.

So here I remain. Closeted at my parent’s house. Probably forever. The brain does not engage. I’ve been dead for years but the body still breathes. This is all I am and it is not enough. I’m gonna pretend I live in Star Wars now until I forget the useless thing that I am. I have work tomorrow.

[officialchristiancagebbgirlblog]

hi friend! i am feeling so angsty rn so could you maybe write something for adam copeland/edge with prompts 14, 18, and 20? maybe something like the reader gets upset with him because he cheated? i greatly appreciate it! ♡

14: please, please don’t leave me. I need you.

18: no, you lost me when you decided to kiss him/her.

20: I wish I’d never met you.

Word count: 886

Themes: angst

Warnings: swearing, mention of cheating

Hi lovely, so I have already written something similar the other day using prompt 14 (and a different using prompt 20). So what I’ve done for you, is take the fic for prompt 14 and changed the final few paragraphs with your requested prompts! Happy reading 🖤

Link to masterlist

“Adam, baby? I’m home, are you upstairs?” You called out, removing your coat and shoes by the door. No response.

‘That’s so weird’ you thought. Normally he’d, at the least, call out to you in acknowledgment that he heard you. But absolutely nothing! From upstairs floated a suspicious sound down to your ears. A sound that you heard in your nightmares. It was a faint noise but it was just loud enough for you to understand what it was; you could hear him crying hysterically. Rushing up the stairs and half falling over yourself, you got to your bedroom as quick as you possibly could, swinging open the door to see him sat on the edge of the bed.

His eyes were red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears, body shaking. When you walked closer to him, he didn’t even look up. He knew you were there but it looked like he was afraid of letting you see him in this state.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” You tried to encourage him to look at you by gently lifting his chin with your cupped hand. But as soon as his eyes met yours he let out a strangled sob before wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and pressing his face into your tummy to avoid looking up again. Just hearing him cry was enough to shatter your heart, let alone hearing him sob. You rubbed your hands on his back in an effort to console him, whispering gentle words of comfort. It took a good five minutes before he had calmed down enough to explain why he was in such a state. And as he explained, the mood began to turn sour.

“I’m so so sorry, I should have told you sooner. It’s just…I thought it would be a one…one time thing but I just. I couldn’t help myself. I’ve slept with another woman…and we’d been talking for the last few weeks. I’m…I’m so sor-“

“Hold on, let me get this straight,” you interrupted, stepping away from his desperate arms, “you’ve been talking to some woman for weeks and you slept with her?!”

“Y-yes but-“

“And on top of that, you weren’t going to tell me that you’d been talking with this bitch until you realised ‘oh shit, I might actually lose my girlfriend of three. Fucking. Years.’ Did it ever occur to you at any point that I might find out? Whether it was in two weeks or two years, the truth was going to come out?”

“I mean…please, I can explain-“

“Nah, nah you don’t get to explain shit to me,” you spat out, “I think you’ve said enough today.”

You stormed out of the room, disbelief and heartbreak settling in with each step back down the stairs. The sobbing started back up, and the pleas began spilling out his lips: “Please! Please don’t leave me! I need you…”

Reaching the ground floor, you could hear him following you. He was becoming more incoherent by the second trying desperately to explain his side. You found yourself paving around the living room trying to rationalise your thoughts, come up with a solution to this situation. It didn’t feel right to walk out. Why should you? After all, you weren’t the one who cheated.

“I can’t lose you, please I’m sorry. Don’t go…”

Hearing the wails and the whimpers was overwhelming. It sent you into a state of mind that you couldn’t control and without really realising it, your emotions and feelings in that moment took hold.

“Really? You can’t lose me? You do realise that you lost me when you decided to kiss her. The second your lips hit hers, you lost my trust. My love. Everything I gave you, gone because you just couldn’t control your lust, could you?!”

Adam opened and closed his mouth, trying his hardest to find the right words. Unfortunately he couldn’t find them, hanging his head in shame and despair, tears dripping down to the floor along with the runnings of his nose. He was a mess.

You scoffed at his silence. Of course he wouldn’t say anything. He could apologise all he wanted but truly he couldn’t nor wouldn’t take accountability for what he had done. Not truly.

“Adam…” you sighed, squeezing the top of your nose, “I’m sorry but…I wish I’d never met you. I wish I’d never gotten with you. Please, leave my house.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The tension was like a thick cloud of smoke, stopping you from being able to breathe properly. Neither of you spoke and you stood there, eyes squeezed shut. There was a faint shuffling noise for a short while before the door opened and closed with a click. When you allowed your eyes to open, you stood in an empty room. An empty house. Alone. Part of you regretted what you said, not really ready to let him go. But the sensible part of you thought better, refusing to let you mourn over the loss of your relationship.

[eddysocs]

Before Her Eyes - Chapter Two (Moira, Vivien and Nora)

Summary: On her first full day in The Murder House, Cassandra gets acquainted with some of its ghostly residents.

Word Count: 1,283

Warnings: None

It was around ten the next morning when Cassandra woke. She sat up and yawned, stretching her arms in the air before swinging her feet around to the side of the bed. She rubbed her eyes as she padded across the bedroom floor. "I bet Simon's already downstairs for breakfast," she joked to herself as she reached the staircase. Taking her time, Cassandra descended the stairs until she heard something going on in the kitchen. Taking the last few stairs at a quicker pace, she made her way to the kitchen. She stopped short when she saw a red haired woman in a maid's uniform standing at the counter. How do these people keep getting into my house, she thought.

"Um, hello," Cassandra said, wishing she sounded more authoritative.

"Why hello, dear," the woman responded, turning around to face Cassandra. Cassandra just stood there, staring at her for a moment, not sure what she should do next. "I’m Moira. I’m the maid. I come with the house," she explained. Cassandra gave a nod, still quite confused.

"I just, uh, I don’t have any extra money to pay you," Cassandra explained.

"That’s quite alright. You see, I perused your books last night, and don’t worry, I only read the titles. I didn’t even pick one up, but I think you’ll be able to understand me when I say that I haven’t needed anyone's money for many years."

Cassandra furrowed her dark brows until the realization dawned on her. "So you’re...a ghost?" The statement should have felt more odd to her, but for some reason, she wasn’t exactly surprised. Had Constance been a ghost as well? No, she couldn’t have been. Simon had touched her.

Moira smiled warmly, and spoke again, drawing Cassandra's attention back to her. "Very good, dear. Yes. For many years now I’ve been bound to this house."

"And are there," Cassandra paused, searching for the right words, "more of you? More ghosts in the house, I mean?"

"Yes, but most tend to keep to themselves since the Harmons."

"The last owners?"

"Right. And you'll only see as much of me as you want to," Moira informed. Cassandra leaned back against a section of countertop and tried to take this all in. It wasn’t so bad. Sure, her realtor hadn’t informed her that there were actual ghosts in her house, but by the sound of it, it didn’t seem like it was going to be a problem. If Moira was right, they’d mostly keep to themselves. She’d adapted to worse. She’d had a nightmare of a roommate in college. So, how bad could a few ghosts be? Now at least, when she talked to herself, maybe someone would actually listen.

"Okay," Cassandra said, as if Moira had been waiting for her permission to stay. "I think I can live with a few ghosts." With that, Moira wandered off to a different part of the house and Cassandra went ahead and poured a bowl of food for Simon. The cat seemed to pop out of nowhere at the promising sound of breakfast and Cassandra reached down to pet him before beginning the rest of her unpacking.

Half a day went by before Cassandra was done. She’d only grabbed a banana for a midday snack and once she’d sat down after everything was taken care of, she realized how hungry she was. She got back up with a huff and headed for the kitchen. She was instantly deflated at the chore of cooking something for herself, so she picked up a phone and ordered a pizza. No sooner did she hang up the phone that she began to hear music. She was sure she hadn’t turned anything on, even by accident. She wandered the house and followed the music toward the living room. There, by the windows, was a woman playing the cello. Another ghost then, Cassandra thought. Odd how calm she was about the whole thing. You’d think it was normal for her to be living with ghosts. In a way, she supposed she was. Metaphorical ones, perhaps, but that didn’t make them feel any less real to her.

Cassandra listened as the woman finished her tune and put down the bow of the instrument. "That was beautiful," Cassandra commented, and even though she wasn’t always a classical music fan, she truly meant the compliment.

Not startled in the slightest, the woman got up and faced Cassandra. "Thank you," she said. "I’ve always loved to play. I hoped you wouldn’t mind."

"I don’t," she replied. "I’m Cassandra, by the way."

"So Moira said. I’m Vivien Harmon."

"Oh," Cassandra said, the word slipping out, though she hadn’t meant it to. She put her hand to her mouth, but it was too late to take back the utterance. "You’re the house’s last owner."

"I was. Please, don’t be scared. Ours were special circumstances. It’s all in the past now."

"I know," Cassandra said, casting her eyes away from Vivien's gaze. "You're welcome to play anytime, Vivien. I really don’t mind." That was the last thing Cassandra said before the doorbell rang, signaling that her pizza had arrived. She left Vivien and the woman began to play another song. She paid for her pizza and a modest tip to the delivery boy who scampered away in a hurry. She guessed this house really did have a reputation. She shrugged and took her pizza into the library with her. She wasn’t going to work, especially not with pizza grease on her hands, but the books were a comfort and after meeting Vivien, someone who had only recently died here, she was a bit unnerved.

Cassandra ate more pizza than she had since college and put the leftovers in the fridge for tomorrow. Vivien was no longer playing, nor anywhere to be seen. Same went for Moira, and Simon for that matter. Perhaps the lazy cat had already gone to bed. Cassandra climbed up the stairs and found Simon in the hallway just outside her bedroom door. The hair on his back stood up and he hissed quietly. "What is it," Cassandra asked, passing the cat and peeking into her room.

A blonde woman stood at the end of her bed, looking towards the headboard. Maybe she ought to have asked Moira just how many ghosts roamed this house. "Excuse me," Cassandra said, unsure why she was concerned about scaring a ghost. The woman jumped and turned around at the sound of her voice, though she had kept her tone soft. "I’m Cassandra, the new owner. And who are you?"

"Nora. My husband built this house for me," she said, tearing up at the memory. Cassandra had done her research. This woman was Nora Montgomery. One of the first to die in this house in a murder suicide. She seemed different than the others, more forlorn, melancholy, but Cassandra couldn’t help but be somehow drawn to her, perhaps out of sympathy for her story.

"If you’d like to talk about him, you could stay," Cassandra offered, though perhaps that was the wrong move to make. Nora looked at her in such a way that she seemed even more frightened than before.

"No, I really should be going," Nora said. "I have my baby." And before Cassandra could say anything else, she’d gone. Cassandra shook her head, in attempt to shake off the whole living with ghosts thing and picked up Simon, carrying him to bed. With Nora gone, he seemed to calm down and promptly curled up at Cassandra's feet. It had been a wild day, no doubt, but tomorrow it would be back to work as usual, and Cassandra would need to rest up for it.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Chapter One <- 💜 -> Chapter Three

[veritas-dolos]

How to Cope by Leo and Mikey Ch. 3

Leo had been self harming for a while. Two years. He’d started a little before being appointed leader of their little group, and once he was, it just made it worse. He thought it was the pressure he was under that made him start, but if he was being honest, he couldn’t really remember. All he knew was that he was addicted. 

It was hard to deal with self harm. No one really understood, unless it was someone else who also self harmed. He hated dealing with all the bloody paper towels and running out of supplies. Running out of room was one of his worst nightmares, so he just went over and over the places he had already self harmed, just to be sure.

But when he found out Mikey self harmed too? It kinda ruined him. Self harm was a big deal. And to have his baby brother wrapped into that? The world of slice after slice, the panic of going too deep, the fear of being found out? He was so, so upset that Mikey had to deal with it now too.

Because, no matter how much better their immune systems were than humans, the cuts they’ve both made were gonna scar, and they’d be there for the rest of their lives. 

(Leo didn’t know how long that was going to be. He’s shocked he’s made it this far.)

When Mikey proposed they get clean, he was… Surprised, to say the least. He didn’t know how long Mikey had been self harming, but it couldn’t have been more than a few months, because he didn’t have as many as Leo. Which was a good sign. The sooner you quit, the better. He wished he’d tried earlier. 

If Leo was being honest, he didn’t know if he could do it. He didn’t really want to. And if you’re gonna get clean, you have to actually want that. Which he didn’t. But he promised Mikey. And if it was going to ensure Mikey would get clean, he’d do it. 

Him and Mikey talked for a long time. He didn’t share much, but Mikey needed someone to talk to. They’d made some sort of plan, a rough draft, he guessed. 

“What’s our plan?” Mikey said, staring down at the makeshift bandages on his arms. 

“You mean our blood pact? We don’t have one yet, baby brother.” Leo said, spinning his phone between two fingers.

Mikey groaned. “Seriously, we should have some sort of plan,” Mikey scrunched his eyebrows, deep in thought. “Maybe something like… If I wanted to… y’know, do it, I could come to you? And if you needed to, you could come to me? Something like that?” Mikey looked hopefully up at his brother, puppy dog eyes at full strength.

And wasn’t that something. Leo didn’t want to burden Mikey with his thoughts if that– when it happened, though. (Because it was gonna happen. How could it not?) He didn’t want to trigger him, or relapse and show him and he relapses too, and he just didn’t want to be the reason Mikey couldn’t heal. 

After all, he had to be the strong one. The leader. The older brother. 

It’s not about me. 

He couldn’t do that, not to Mikey, who actually wanted to get better. 

“Yeah, sure, Angelo. We can do that.” He lied, a smile on his face. He hated that he was such a good liar. He wanted someone to see through it, just once, and help him so he didn’t have to help himself. This was his opportunity, and he knew that, but Mikey had to come first. 

Mikey beamed, and Leo’s heart broke. 

Leo’s smile fell into a sad grimace as Mikey looked down and unlocked his phone. “I’m gonna reset. You should too.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Leo said, unable to mask his sadness. Mikey thankfully didn’t notice. Leo unlocked his phone and searched his app library for the app, too afraid to keep it on his homescreen if someone got his phone and snooped around. He opened it and got the celebratory ‘one day clean’ notification, pressed cancel, scrolled to the bottom and pressed reset. He then went to settings and changed the time to about when he finished, so it could be more accurate. He hated how much work it was to change the time. Ah, the real troubles of a self harmer, he thought. 

“Done!” Mikey said, showing him his screen, the little bar reading, ‘I’ve been self-harm free for 48 seconds’. Leo’s heart broke a little more. 

Instead of dealing with his feelings, he opted for, “Eww, you have it on light mode? Mikey, that’s gross.”

Apparently, Mikey didn’t know you could change the theme. “You can change it? How do you do it? Are there cool ones?” He begged, wanting to take a look at Leo’s screen, which he showed. 

Leo’s screen read, ‘I’ve been self-harm free for 4 hours, 57 minutes, 49 seconds’. He had the calm theme. He thought the blue waves were relaxing, and made him feel a little less bad about relapsing. He shifted to be side by side with Mikey so he could show him. “Here, I’ll show you how. Go to the little person icon on the top right. Then manage skin. Then you can choose one. There’s a bunch of free ones, but some you have to pay for.” Leo said, passing his knowledge onto the younger generation.

“Cool,” Mikey said. It was decidedly not cool, according to Leo. They were gossiping over a relapse tracker. Something told him that this was not a normal brotherly bonding activity.

“I like this one. What d’ya think? It’s got orange. I like orange.” Mikey showed him the citrus theme, and he thought it suited Mikey pretty well. It did have orange, and Mikey liked orange.

“I like it. Mine’s better though.” Leo said with a smirk. 

“NOT true, mine’s better.” Mikey said, crossing his bandaged arms. 

Leo rolled his eyes at his little brother’s antics. “Whatever, little dude.”

Mikey’s jaw dropped. “I’m not little!”  He turned his head to the side, and looked at the clock. “Hey, it’s like, 7:30, wanna get up for the day? I can make pancakes.”

Leo grinned. “If you make chocolate chip, I’ll love you forever,”

“You’re gonna love me forever either way,” Mikey said, sticking out his tongue. 

And he would. Leo jumped off Mikey’s bed, followed by the turtle in question. He opened Mikey’s closet and grabbed his sweatshirt, now a faded orange. He threw it at his younger brother, who caught it swiftly. “Put this on. It’ll hide your bandages.” Leo opened Mikey’s door and made his way toward the kitchen.

Mikey looked down at his arms, suddenly processing everything that had happened in the last few hours. Something deep inside him hurt, but he put on his sweatshirt and walked out the door. 

Leo sat at the counter and whipped out his phone just to make it look like he was doing something. The last few hours had been the craziest of his life, and he had seen some crazy stuff. Family trauma for the win, he guessed. 

Mikey got to the kitchen sporting his worn orange sweatshirt. “The king of the kitchen has arrived,” He said, taking a bow. Leo rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, ok mister. Get cooking before the other two bozos get out here and start eating all of my pancakes.” Leo said from behind his phone, still not doing anything on it, just staring at the black screen.

“Pssh. They’re not just for you, Leon. I’m making enough for everyone.” Mikey said, digging around the kitchen for ingredients. Once he got everything out, he began mixing. 

Leo shoved his phone in his pocket, and suddenly felt the pressing need to take his bandages off. He felt the edges of the tape stuck to his inner sleeves, pulling at his skin. He pressed down to stop it from moving. “Mikey, I’m gonna go take care of this,” he said, motioning to his arm.  

Mikey dropped the spoon into the bowl. “Wait, no, Leo, we can talk about this! You don’t have to–”

And then Leo understood. Mikey thought he was going to go relapse. 

“No, I just meant I’m gonna go take off my, y’know.” Bandages, Leo wanted to say, but didn’t in case someone else heard him.

Mikey visibly relaxed. “Oh, okay. Well, remember, if you ever need to talk, I’m here.” He walked around the counter and gave his older brother a hug. He looked like he needed it. 

And Leo did. He didn’t know how badly he needed a hug until then. He stood up and pressed his face into Mikey’s shoulder, hands wrapped around his shell and pulling him in close. Mikey only hugged back harder. 

“Leo, I’m here for you, no matter what. We’re in this together.” Mikey mumbled into Leo’s plastron. 

And Pizza Supreme in the sky, he knew. They were in this together. He didn’t want to hurt his little brother, and he didn’t want him to hurt himself. Leo hated how badly he wanted to tell Mikey all of his fears about this whole situation, but he knew it would only discourage Mikey from getting clean. He needed to be a good role model. He needed to do better. 

It’s not about me. 

Why couldn’t he get that through his head? Why couldn’t he be the brother Mikey deserved? Why wasn’t he good enough?

Leo let go, holding back tears. “I’ll be right back. Keep cooking, I won’t be long,” Leo said with a mock salute. Mikey gave him a sad look, like he could see right through him, but let him go nonetheless. Leo turned on his heel and made the walk back to his room. 

Keep it in. You’re almost there. He thought, walking as quickly as he could back to his room. Just a little further.

Once he got to his door, he didn’t even care about the creakiness of it, he just walked in, shut the door, and collapsed on his bed. The first few tears squeezed out of his eyes. Leo slid under the covers and curled into a ball, unable to face the world.

It was just so hard. Life was so hard after the Krang, and he didn’t think he would ever recover. Physically, he was okay, but mentally? Even his short time in the prison dimension traumatized him. He hated that word, but the shoe fit. 

He was nearly beaten to death. He wanted to die. He still does. He thinks about it every day. He was beaten so badly in that place that he wished his body had given out and died. A part of him did die there that day, he thought. He wasn’t the same. He wasn’t happy. He didn’t feel alive like he used to. 

And all it took was a hug from the brother who knew his biggest secret to tear him apart. 

Leo rolled over onto his other side. He had to make this mental breakdown quick, he couldn’t let anyone find him like this. He couldn’t let anyone know he was this broken. But it was true, wasn’t it? He was broken. 

Mikey absolutely couldn’t find him here, not now, lying in bed, falling apart. He had to show his brother he was okay. That he was strong enough to carry his burdens. He had to at least try to be good enough, even though he knew at the very depth of his soul that he never would be, not for anyone. 

And it hurt.

Leo sat up and took a deep breath. He wiped the tears off his face with his blanket, and pulled up his sweatshirt sleeve, and ripped off his bandage as hard as he could, hoping to feel something other than the pain in his heart. He looked at the ugly raised lines and sneered. He hated himself. His scars would define him for the rest of his life. He didn’t want to live that long. 

Oh, there’s a thought he’d be saving for later. Something to think about late at night. 

Leo pulled his sleeve down. He slowly got out of bed and walked over to the mirror. He looked at the tear tracks that marked his face. Licking his finger, he wiped them off. He looked at his reflection and smiled, trying to get it to look right. 

He gave a frustrated sigh. No, that wasn’t right. 

Leo tried again, showing more teeth this time, but that wasn’t right either. 

Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t he get something that usually comes so naturally right? Why couldn’t he do anything right?

Unable to deal with the immense emotional pain, he made a fist with his right hand and slammed it onto the back of his left forearm. Again, and again, and again. After a minute or two, he pulled back his sleeve with a wince to reveal huge dark green splotches where his fist made contact with his arm.

He hated it, but he felt a little better. Leo knew it was self harm, but he didn’t reset unless there was blood, so it didn’t count. Mikey couldn’t see though. He’d be crushed. 

Leo looked back in the mirror and tried to smile again. 

This time, he got it right. 

So he walked back out to the kitchen, and pretended like nothing happened. 

Naturally, when he got there, Raph and Donnie were eating his pancakes. Lovely. 

Mikey, still at the stove making more, made eye contact with him. He discreetly gave Leo a thumbs up with a raised brow, the universal sign for, you good?

Leo just nodded, sitting next to Donnie at the counter. Mikey served him the freshest pancakes, hot off the stove. He looked at him with a grateful smile. He slathered them with butter, before pouring a copious amount of syrup on them, just the way he liked it. 

Donnie eyed Leo’s plate suspiciously. “That’s an awful lot of syrup, Nardo. What, trying to OD on sugar or something?” 

Internally, Leo burst out laughing, because that was the funniest damn thing he’d ever heard. Honestly, if he were to commit… That, that’s how he’d choose to go. So yes, the proposition of overdosing on something as ordinary as syrup was hilarious. 

On the outside, Leo only huffed. “You know it,” Leo said, taking a bite. 

Leo didn’t notice, but Mikey gave him a weird look. 

Mikey put the last pancake on the central plate and turned off the stove. He jumped on the counter and grabbed one off the top, sitting with his legs crossed next to Leo. “You guys like the pancakes?” he said, taking a big bite. 

His three brothers all affirmed this, each with their own compliment. Mikey was happy they liked them, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if they didn’t. After a few moments of them all silently eating, Raph spoke up. 

“So boys, what’s the plan for today? I don’t really have any ideas,” Raph said, reaching for another pancake.

The group all looked at Leo, their leader, and his heart sank. How could he be their leader? He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t want it. But he had it, and it wasn’t going away. 

Leo gulped. “Uh, we could maybe just sit around and watch some Jupiter Jim movies for a while. If you guys want to. I don’t really have a plan,” He said, not looking up. He just wanted to eat his pancakes, could they not do this right now? 

“Sounds good to me,” Mikey said, and the others agreed. 

If Leo was being honest, all he wanted to do was lay in bed and be depressed. He just wanted to lay and stare at the ceiling and think about how much of a disappointment he was to his family. Was that too much to ask for?

Apparently so, when Donnie and Raph got up to go choose a movie. Leo sat at the counter, slowly chewing, while Mikey stood at the sink, handwashing the dirty dishes his brothers left behind. Leo could see how Mikey looked around before hesitantly pulling up his sleeves and dipping them in the sudsy water. 

“Leo, are you okay?” Mikey said, grabbing a plate and scrubbing it with a sponge. He was facing away, a small mercy so Leo wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. 

Leo processed this. No, he wasn’t okay. He was very, very far from okay. How could he be? He was cutting himself, depressed, and suicidal. I’m a triple threat, he said to himself, which humored him. 

Apparently, too much time had passed for Mikey, who spoke up. “Y’know, it’s okay to not be okay. I’m the last person who would judge you,” Mikey said, rinsing off the plate and grabbing the next. “I care about you, Leo. And no matter what, you can tell me anything.” 

Leo was quiet with his answer. “Yeah, I know.”

Mikey grabbed some silverware, and dunked them in, water splashing back at him. “No, Leo, I don’t think you do,” Mikey said, whipping around and pointing a shaky finger at him. “I’m not a little kid anymore. You don’t need to protect me. I can handle anything you have to say.”

Leo couldn’t take it. “Mikey–”

“Leo, would you just stop treating me like a child and trust me?” Mikey said, tears forming in his eyes. He quickly turned back around to his dishes. “I just want you to trust me.” He whispered, tears mixing with the soapy water below. 

Leo’s eyes widened in shock. He didn’t want his little brother to think he didn’t trust him. “I–”

“Are you guys coming to watch the movie or not?” Donnie said from the entrance to the kitchen. Mikey dipped his forearms until they were completely submerged.

“We’ll be there in a sec,” Leo said, and Donnie rolled his eyes and went back the way he came. Leo walked over to the sink and set his plate down. He put a hand on Mikey’s shell and pulled him into a side hug. “I do trust you. It’s just that–”

“Forget it. We can talk later.” Mikey said, scrubbing hard. 

“But–”

“I said later, Leo.” Mikey said sharply, angrily finishing the dishes and pulling the plug.

Leo didn’t know what to say. So he let go of his brother, and walked to the living room, leaving Mikey to dry his sliced arms.

Leo walked into the room and found Raph and Donnie on their respective bean bags, the title screen visible and on pause. They were waiting for them, and in the meantime they sat on their phones.

He sat on his blue bean bag and brought his legs to his chest. He cradled his left arm in his hand, the back throbbing from where he hit it earlier. In hindsight, it wasn’t his smartest move, but it hurt. That was the point, so it was successful, he guessed. 

They’d chosen Jupiter Jim and the Galactic Wars, one of his favorites. He reached to the side and grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders. The soft fabric felt nice against his neck, making him relaxed. He adjusted, sinking deeper into the bean bag. 

Mikey entered the room then, and looked over at Leo. He had an annoyed yet sad look on his face, making Leo feel things he didn’t want to. Unfortunately for Mikey, his bean bag was next to Leo’s. He grumbled, but made his way over. Once he sat down, Leo threw him a blanket, a small peace offering. Mikey accepted, but didn’t make eye contact. 

“You guys ready?” Raph said. They said yes, so he pressed play. 

Somehow they had watched three Jupiter Jim movies back-to-back. Leo was surprised his attention span lasted that long. He was surprised any of his brothers lasted that long. The only interruption was when Raph got up to go to the bathroom, and they hadn’t stopped the movie. 

Donnie stretched and stood up. “I don’t know about you, but I need a break. I have some designs I should work on.” He left, not waiting for a response. 

“Yeah, I’m with Donnie. I gotta get out of here before I go crazy. Maybe we can watch another one later,” Raph said, getting up. “Let me know if you guys wanna do something. I don’t really have anything going on.” He said, walking out. 

Leo and Mikey sat on their bean bags in silence, both not knowing what to do or say. Mikey suddenly got up without a word, and left the room, leaving Leo to run after him. “Mikey, wait,” Leo said, trailing him. Mikey walked back to his room, and once they were both inside, he turned to face him. 

“Close the door.” Mikey said. 

Leo did as he was instructed, closing the door with a click. Leo watched as Mikey gathered his thoughts, and he knew just how much he messed up. Mikey went and sat at the head of his bed, his shell to the wall and knees to his chest. Leo sat at the end, back to Mikey. “I wish you would trust me like I trust you.” Mikey whispered, hands gripping his upper arms. 

“I do trust you, Mikey! I really do,” Leo said, twisting so he could see his brother. 

“No Leo, you don’t. You’re keeping secrets from me. I thought we were in this together. You said we were,” Mikey said, voice trembling. “I feel so stupid when I tell you how I feel and you don’t give anything back. I thought this would go both ways, but it– but it doesn’t.” Mikey ended. He put his head on his knees, and was quiet.

Leo panicked. He had to do damage control, because he was hurting his brother. He guessed it was a lose-lose situation. He’d hurt Mikey by telling the truth, and he’d already hurt him by lying about it. He hated every second of this conversation. He never wanted to hurt him, but here he was, being a bad brother and a bad leader. He said he wouldn’t be that. But here he was. 

It’s not about me.

But he made the situation about him, didn’t he? That’s all he does. He’s selfish, inconsiderate, and can’t stop hurting the people he cares about. He’d be better off dead. 

Focus. 

“I’m sorry, Mikey,” He said, scooting closer to his younger brother. He had to tell the truth. Or at least enough so he wouldn’t ask questions. “It’s just… Hard, for me to talk about this. I’ve never had anyone to talk to about it.”

Mikey was quiet, waiting for more. 

Leo gulped. “We are in this together. I’m sorry I made you feel like we aren’t,” He said, picking at his fingernails. “And I never meant to make you feel stupid. Honest.” Leo said, unable to think of anything else to say. 

Mikey was quiet for a long time. 

“Thanks, Leo. And it’s okay. Just, y’know, talk to me about what you’re going through, even if it’s only a little.”

“I will,” Leo said, unable to tell if he was lying or telling the truth. 

Mikey scooted to the right closer to the wall and laid down. He motioned for Leo to lay by him, which he gladly did. They laid shoulder to shoulder, staring at the ceiling. 

Leo felt his eyes slip shut, and slept for the first time in what felt like forever.

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 4

[chelseeebe]

angel. | part 2 to two time.

summary: you and steve have been in this situationship for too long now. is it worth ruining what you've got for the sake of an official relationship? read two time (part one). oh my actual fuck, i normally despise reading back anything i've written but i can't stop re-reading this. it's a part two to two time but really could be read on it's own :) i also imagined readers room as my first year uni halls and i know it's different in america but it just would not work lol

fratboy!steve makes me crazy, idk what it is

your head is leaning in your hand, ever so slowly your eyes droop and it becomes too heavy to hold up.

‘hey! don’t you fall asleep on me now,’ steve bangs his palm on the table, jolting you awake.

‘steveee.. it’s..,’ you tap your phone screen, ‘three am! please can we just finish in the morning, i’m so tired,’ you pout, you were helping him finish his project. which, by the way, he had only started at six the night before. it was due at eleven the next morning.

‘do you want me to fail? i’ll have to move back home and then you’ll never ever see me again,’ he crosses his arms and tilts his head, just like a little puppy dog.

‘maybe you should’ve started earlier instead of partying so much, hmm?’ you imitate him, crossing your arms across your chest and tilting your head in the opposite direction.

‘well if someone wasn’t so obsessed with me, always begging me to hang out, then maybe i would’ve started earlier,’ he shrugs. lying through his teeth, he could’ve had a year to get this done and he still would’ve been sat here hours before the deadline.

‘hey, i would never beg you, i’m better than that,’ you wink at him. his golden eyes creasing into a smile, all you had to do was call and he was already halfway to your dorm. hell, he virtually lived there.

‘how much have you got left?’ you lean over and glance at his papers, to be absolutely fair to the boy, he was a pro at cramming.

‘i still need to finish the conclusion and sort out my references, but i need you to help me with that,’ try as he might, he had still never figured out how to academically reference his sources. meaning the task always fell on you.

‘okay.. so if i set an alarm for.. say seven, that gives you enough time to finish your conclusion and me enough time to do all your referencing, sound good?’ you pout again, this time extending your bottom lip out further. you knew that’d convince him.

he sighs but his smile is evident, ‘fine, but i’m setting the alarm, i know what you’re like,’ he stands up gathering the collection of papers spread across the desk and places them inside his bag.

‘yay!’ you stand up, grabbing your bag from the floor.

‘if i fail, you will pay,’ he saunters up behind you.

‘oooh no i’m sooo scared, whatever will i do!’ you sarcastically quip back with a giggle.

‘right, i’ve had enough of your lip,’ and with that he grabs your waist, lifting your body up and over his shoulder, smacking your ass rather hard.

you respond with a shriek, the other students late-night studying roll their eyes. you’d both been distracting them all night, relieved that you were finally leaving.

he carries you in this position all the way back to your room across campus. dropping you onto your bed with a suspicious sounding crack.

‘you fucking idiot, you broke my bed!’ you roll off of said bed and strip down to your underwear, reaching for one of steve’s extra large t-shirts.

‘well, we both knew that was gonna happen one day, honestly surprised it’s not happened sooner,’ he chuckles, peeling off his sweater.

the sight still made you bite your lip, he was seriously sexy and you’d never get over it.

‘and technically, it was your body that broke the bed, i just put you down,’ he holds his hands up in innocence.

‘threw me down, but okay babe,’ you climb into the bed, moving over to leave space for him. he follows you, pulling the duvet over you both.

you roll over onto your front, slinging your leg over his as his arm wraps across your back.

‘yeah, yeah.. goodnight,’ he plants a kiss to the top of your head, pulling you in closer to him.

‘alarm?’

‘shit,’ he groans, reaching for his phone, rushing to set the alarm.

‘and you didn’t trust me to do it,’ you scoff, your hand resting on his chest.

‘fuck off, go to sleep,’ he sets his phone down, finding your waist once again. you can’t help but smile at the boy.

you wake up to the blaring sound of steve’s phone alarm. your groggy groan vibrates on his chest.

‘shit, i’ve still got so much to do,’ his arms holding you tighter. you loved his morning voice, it was so gruff and husky. it honestly just reminded you of when he fucked the shit out of you on those early mornings you both had classes, his voice still deep with sleep.

‘get up now, before i fall back asleep and you won’t be able to move,’ you move your leg off of him, he shudders slightly as your thigh brushes over his semi-erect cock.

you’d give anything to just mount him and ride his cock until you were crying out. but, you knew he genuinely could not fail this class, or he’d lose his scholarship and have to move all the way back across the country.

he kisses your lips as he gets out of the bed, your hands wrap around his neck instinctively, kissing him with pure lust, keeping him bent down over you.

‘don’t do this to me,’ he mumbles, internally deciding if fucking you into the mattress right this moment was worth the fail.

you let go, a smirk plastered across your face, ‘sorry, go and finish and i’ll be here.’

he collapses into your desk chair with a sigh, pulling the papers out of his bag and spreading them across your already messy desk.

not only did he have to finish this project, he now had to do it a raging boner and with you lying there in his shirt, only 2 feet away.

‘you bitch, i thought you were menna help me?’ you were already dropping back off to sleep.

‘oh, i am, just give me five minutes and i’ll be there..’ you mumble, sleep already preoccupying your mind.

he lets you sleep, god knows he'd pay for it later when you were moody and quite frankly mean to him.

he reaches for his phone, opening up snapchat and facing his phone towards your sleeping body. the blanket pulled up to your chin, messy hair framing your face.

it was one of the few times he got to see you so peaceful and quiet.

'sleeping beauty' he captions it, debating whether to post the picture and piss you off or to keep it for his own collection of candid pics of you. he settles for posting it to his private story.

it was now nine, and he was now bored of doing this on his own, watching you sleep peacefully next to him. he leans over and shakes your shoulder lightly, 'wakey wakey, time to get your ass up.'

'no,' you grumble, 'five more minutes mom,' your eyes open to peer over at him, a smile erupting on your face.

'i'm okay with daddy, but mom is just fucking weird,' he's gripping onto your hand, trying to pull you out of your duvet cave. you chuckle at his words, gripping onto the bed as to not slip out.

'i'm bored and i need your help, so get up,' he juts out his bottom lip and softens his eyes, how could you say no?

'you woke me up because you were bored? err you're such a simp,' you stand up, pulling his oversized shirt down over your thighs.

'only for you,' he grabs your waist, pulling you into his chest, 'anyway, can you do my references pleaseee,' you sit down onto his knee and glimpse at the stack of papers on your desk.

'sweet, are you all finished then?' you grab his pen and grab the scribbled list of books he'd used.

'all done, just need you to do this and then i can go and hand it in,' he presses his cheek to your back, arms wrapped around your waist. you'd probably jump off of a cliff if he asked like this.

you sit and copy out his list, just much neater and in the correct format. you'd taught him to always make you a list with the information you needed so you could rearrange it and make it presentable for him.

you finish and tuck the sheets of paper at the bottom of the pile, standing up off of his lap.

'it's half ten, get changed and run,' you walk to your en-suite, wetting your toothbrush, 'oh and sort out that disgusting morning breath.'

he follows you into the bathroom, copying your actions on his own toothbrush, he'd bought it especially for your room.

you spit the minty foam into the sink just as steve gags as he brushes back teeth, 'pussy,' replacing the toothbrush to its rightful place.

he spits, 'just because you don't gag, whore,' putting his toothbrush back right next to yours, smacking your bare ass as you exit the bathroom.

'you're gonna be late, and then you'll fail and then you'll never get to bully me again,' you smirk, holding his sweater out to him.

he takes it from your hand, pulling it over his head, 'i'm going, i'm going!' slipping on his jeans and shoving the papers into his bag.

you pout your lips, making a kissing sound.

he plants a kiss to your lips and practically sprints out of the door.

-

'steve, you need to hurry the fuck up,' you brush out your curls with your fingers, bouncing them around your shoulders.

you look into his oddly stained mirror, readjusting the white feathery wings on your back.

'i'm ready.. i was just admiring how fucking good you look,' you spin around to face him, a shy smile creeps to your face. he's complimented you countless times but it still made you blush every single time.

'well thank you darling,' you siddle over to his position on the edge of bed, resting your hands on his shoulders, he places his hands on your hips and looks up.

you could hear the party already thumping downstairs, steve had so very kindly offered to host your birthday party at his frat house. you were hesitant and first, knowing exactly how they usually ended up.

you had practically forced him to wear the corresponding devil costume to your angel outfit.

'it'll be so cute, and it's so accurate,' you pleaded, picking up the red horns. you could've convinced him to wear anything in that white mini skirt, soft thighs adorned with white fishnets.

'mmm,' his hands slide down to your half-exposed behind, tongue peaking out the side of his lips.

'they'll be waiting for us,' squeezing his shoulders.

'i know.. before we go, i've been thinking..' his fingers pressing into your rear.

'oh no, that's never a good thing,' your hands run through the back of his hair, not wanting to mess it up too much.

'shut up, no- i was thinking about you actually,' he smiles at the thought.

'right.. go on,' he was either about to ruin the incredible thing you had going on or was about to gain a girlfriend.

'well, you basically are already but.. d'ya wanna be my girlfriend?' his grip tightens, pulling you in closer to his chest.

you beam down at him, 'jeez, i thought you'd never ask,' kissing his smile with such passion it causes his body to rock back.

'well thank fuck for that,' he murmurs into the kiss.

'y'know i'd never say no to you,' you smirk, had he genuinely believed you'd turn him down? not a chance.

'we actually do have to go now, it being my birthday n'all,' you pull away from him, grabbing his hand from your ass cheek and yanking him to the door.

'sorry, sorry, my boyfriend takes too long to get ready,' your friends squeal as you and steve approach them. the pair of you were basically already married for christ's sake, but they were still just as delighted to hear he'd officially asked you.

the party boomed on, you and steve had lost each other to your respective group of friends. the alcohol beginning to make you slightly, very tipsy.

nelly's 'hot in herre' blared out of the speaker, the music causing your hips to move all on their own, your hands tracing up your body seductively.

steve meets your eye from across the room, adjusting his position on the couch to see you better.

'i wanna take my clothes off,' you mouth over to him, biting on your bottom lip.

'fellas, i'll see you later, yeah?' he slaps his buddy on the back as he walks over to you. their gaze following him, rolling their eyes and laughing when they realised why he ran off.

he's essentially dragging you up the stairs, your feet tripping over each other on the way up.

not wanting to wait any longer to rip those filthy fishnets off of you.

[pinkcaddyconfessions]

Anything for You, Darlin’

- - -

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader (can be Austin!Elvis if you prefer)

Word Count: 1,236 words

Warnings: Fluff, Puking, Pregnancy, Language (let me know if I miss anything)

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for all the love you gave chapter one!! I hope you continue to love this because this is gonna be a long one!

- - -

Chapter 2

March 1967

It was almost a year since you and Elvis became one. You two had become the it couple of Hollywood, Memphis and across the entire country. Everyone loved you two together. Of course, you two were still trying on and off for a baby, but decided that if it was meant it be, it would happen sooner rather than later. Elvis was still filming three movies a year in Hollywood, something he was becoming bored of.

After filming for “Easy Come, Easy Go” ended, it was back to Graceland. For you, Graceland was so much more than a mansion. It was home, your safe place and the turning of a new chapter of your life.

This time when your feet hit the pavement of Graceland, something felt different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but you had the feeling that big changes were coming your way. Maybe he felt that way too because Elvis looked at you with his blue eyes and said, “Baby doll, I gotta a feeling that we weren’t gonna be alone for much longer.” You look at him and say, “Elvis. Jerry and them won’t be here at least for another day or so since we left early.” But quickly, you knew that wasn’t what he meant.

“(Y/N), I don’t mean them,” Elvis said with a certain tone in his voice, “I’ve noticed you’ve been getting sick here lately and that’s not like you doll.” He was right. You never got sick, you were one of the healthiest people he knew on this earth. At first, you both assumed it was the travels making you sick since you never been more than two hours from home before you met Elvis.

Hours went by after that conversation. You saw Elvis fast asleep in your king sized bed, snoring lightly so you decided to do something you knew needed to be done while he was deep in slumber. You knew you needed to take a pregnancy test to rule that out before he dragged you to the doctor. You found the unopened box in the bathroom and took it. Quietly pacing, you waited for those results to come, which seemed to take an eternity to you, but was actually only minutes. “Come on, (Y/N),” you muttered to yourself, “you can do this.” You finally muster the courage to look at the test. What you saw shocked you.

Two baby pink lines.

It hit you all at once like a ton of bricks. You didn’t know how to feel. You clung to the test with you left hand as you slid down the bathroom wall. You were too focused on your feelings to realized that Elvis had woken up from his slumber to make his way to the bathroom.

“(Y/N), why the hell aren’t you in bed yet?It’s past midnight, doll,” he muttered still half asleep, “you need to get your sleep princess.” When he saw what was in your hand, he woke up and got on the floor next to you. “Is that what I think it is? You.. you’re pregnant?” Elvis said in the most concerned and shocked way possible. You thought for a second he was mad so you began crying.

“Yes, I guess I am. I know it’s not the best timing I’m sorry Elvis,” you said to him with tears in your eyes.

“Baby doll this is nothing to be sorry about,” Elvis said almost shocked, “our dreams are coming true.” He held you there in his arms while you both cried tears of happiness. After a few minutes, he carried you to bed and you both fell asleep in each other’s arms knowing that your gut feelings were right. Life was about to change forever in the best way possible.

June 1967

You and Elvis waited for what seemed like forever to tell your closest friends and family the news: a little Presley was on the way. The Memphis Mafia was happy for you both. Vernon was excited to have his first grandchild. The damn Colonel seemed hesitant at first, but eventually came around. Then, the news got out to the whole world that the king was finally getting a heir. Life was about to get chaotic, but it would be worth it.

September 1967

The nursery was all set up for baby Presley even though you weren’t due for another three months. Elvis was in overprotective mode of you as if he wasn’t already before. He didn’t want you bending over, lifting anything, etc.

Every time you tried to, he would look at you and say, “Now (Y/N), how many have I told you not to do that?! Neither you or little munchkin here need to be getting hurt.” Munchkin was one of the few names he had given to the baby. You would almost death glare him for trying to tame your stubbornness, but at the end of the day, how the fuck could you stay mad at him? “Elvis I know baby, but we don’t get much time left,” you would always say to him. Hell it was already September and it seemed like yesterday you just found out you were pregnant.

Neither one of you wanted to find out what baby Presley was until the time that he or she was born. Of course, it seemed that almost everyone thought it was gonna be a boy. Deep down however, you wanted it to be a little baby girl. You had always wanted to have a girl as your first child since you were thirteen. You told Elvis that you would be happy no matter what, and he believed you. He also heard your reasons why you wanted a baby girl first.

You wanted to prove to your “blood family” and yourself that you could raise a daughter better than they raised you. Treat her with love and respect. Elvis knew your life story and he knew and promised you that there was no way in hell that history would repeat itself with your kids.

October/November 1967

Once again, you found yourself in Hollywood while Elvis was filming another movie. Only this time, you were heavily pregnant. You felt like you had all eyes on you waiting for your next move. Elvis always came and checked on you in between scenes and breaks.

He saw in your eyes that you wanted to go home to Memphis. He knew before long it would be time for baby Presley to arrive. He also knew that the movies were becoming tedious and redundant. He wanted more out of his career and life. He just didn’t know where to start. He wanted his career to be something that his child could look back on with pride and say, “my dad did all of that.”

“(Y/N),” he said while looking at you with his blue eyes, “I gotta do something soon. Munchkin needs to be proud of his or her daddy when they grow up. Right now my career….. it’s a laughing stock.”

“Now Elvis, I am proud of you no matter what you do and I’m sure munchkin here will be too,” you said reassuringly while kissing him on his cheek. After filming of “Clambake” was over, he took you home to Memphis. Little did you two know, it would be the last time you two would travel alone.

[theveryworstthing]

I Live.

Gonna give y’all a little life update copy-pasted from patreon since I’ve been gone for a thousand years. I don't really want to get deep into everything because sharing too many private details about my life/family on the internet feels a little icky even when people are nice but a quick rundown is:

1. My mom was helping my aunt through the legal proceedings of a messy divorce from her abusive ex husband and had to fly to her place like every 2 weeks. During her stays there she sensed something was wrong and after a few doctor's visits we found out that my aunt has early onset dementia. She's being taken care of by family and her shitty ex will never see her again if we have any say so but it's been Rough. She doesn't deserve this shit.

2. Surgery Bonanza! Mom has to get a giant mysterious fatty mass schlorped out of her back and my Grandma Lou' s thyroid gland went insaneo style and blew up into two huge masses that had to be cut out of her throat before they completely cut off her breathing. Then she had a bonus surgery to help with her failing eyesight. On the bright side, there was no cancer found in the weird lumps harvested from my kin.

3. My cat developed a weird lump full of cancer. I spotted a small lump on his right back leg over a month ago and after begging his former vet for an appointment sooner than 2 weeks away we finally got him in. Within seconds she said that it was probably cancer and that if it is he probably won't survive the treatment for it because he's 15 so do I really want to know? Because if I know then maybe I'll want to treat this expensive thing  but if I wanted to let it ride it might be easier I guess? Because letting my weird little son die without trying to save him or give him proper end of life care is cool as long as it's cheaper and I don't have to think about it as much???? This was before any sort of intensive check on him or the tumor was done btw. The little dude was pretty much either a dead man walking or he had some mysterious swelling that time would take care of as far as she was concerned. Either way there was the vibe that she kind of wrote him off.

I ordered tests for him anyway, waited 2 weeks to get inconclusive answers, ordered an x-ray (which should have been done with the other test but whatever), waited a week and a half to learn that yeah, he probably does have cancer maybe and thank god it's not spreading too fast because uh oh! It's been almost a month and that bad boy has been growing this whole time!!!! Also it took weeks for them to bother scheduling any kind of re-check. At this point they say that there's nothing they can do and offer to get me in contact with what seems to be the only animal cancer specialist around. Who's like 2 and a half hours away. And has a crazy wait list. Did I mention that Coup hates being stuck in his carrier and will stress out and cry constantly every time he's forced to travel anywhere? So after reaching out to friends and family I found another much closer vet who could give me a second opinion first and thank god I found that place because not only did they actually judge him by his actual level of health instead of just his age when it comes to treatment (besides the cancer Coup is healthy as an ox, stellar scores in bloodwork and overall cat-ness, vet said that judging from his behavior/usage of the leg that we're probably more concerned about the situation than he is) but they also had a treatment plan rolled out and ready by the end of the visit. The boy is almost done with his chemo injections now and even though the shrinking is slow he's still in great health so we're daring to dream.

Fuck The Haters.

Other things happened but I don't want to talk about those things. The bottom line is that I'm not juggling a hell schedule or crying every day now so I want to get back in the drawing saddle. Thanks again to everyone on patreon who stuck around and basically threw their money in this mysterious pit, Y'all helped pay my bills when I was literally too mentally wrecked to work. And thanks to everyone else who sent me random good vibes, hoped I was okay, said nice things about my art, and were generally pretty cool even though I fled social media. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

[chaoticparker]

Dinner

Peter Parker x fem!stark!reader

Summary: Your father, Tony Stark, unknowingly invites Peter to a family dinner. Problem is: he doesn’t know you two are dating, and he told you to bring your partner. 

Warnings: mentions of sex

w/c: 3k

masterlist

“Are you free this Friday? There’s a party going on in Brooklyn that we got invited to.”

“I think so, but can’t we go out sooner? It feels like I haven’t seen you in years.” You placed your phone on the desk so your loving boyfriend could see you on facetime all while trying to do the impossible challenge of finding a day that would work for your next date.

“What about tomorrow night? I could end patrol early?” Peter was swinging around New York, heading back to his apartment in Queens. You could hear the wind whistling and the occasional curse that he would say when he almost dropped his phone. 

“I can’t ask you to do that.” You sighed. Trying to come up with your own little solution to your deprivation from Peter and his from you. “I just want to be close to you.”

You’ve been talking with Peter for a good couple hours about everything and nothing. Patrol was slow today and even when he did see some suspicious behavior, he would always set the phone so you could see what was going on; he promised it was an accident that it set up that way and that he didn’t mean for you to see his fighting skills, but you knew he was just trying to impress you not to subtly. 

But, no matter the day, the circumstances, or anything really, all of your conversations always came around to asking about when your next date will be. This conversation has gone on too long and you're both too tired. Peter spent all day crime fighting, and you spent all day in the lab, running around trying to figure out how to get certain metals to withstand chemicals for a project. 

And if you weren’t so tired, you probably would’ve noticed the footsteps of Tony Stark, coming down the hall to check up on you. Just as he was about to knock on your door, he heard talking. 

“I could come over tomorrow night after I’m done with everything? And we could be as close as you want.” Peter joked, though, through the door Tony couldn’t quite make out the voice. All he could hear was the sentence and your faint laughs; not to mention the ringing in his ear.

“I dunno, could you sneak over tonight so maybe-”

“Hey Y/n!” Tony barged into your room and you quickly hung up on Peter, pushing your phone to your chest. Your eyes went wide as you just stared at Tony, not sure how to proceed depending on how much he just heard.

“Who was that?” Tony bellowed, he had his hand crossed and his foot was tapping on the ground. You’d laugh and call him a drama queen if you weren't scared shitless. 

“No one.”

“Yeah, and that's what I said when I was your age.” Tony scoffed. “Now fess up, who were you talking to?”

“Just…” Fuck, he defiantly heard you, but you’re not too sure how much. “Someone.” He clearly never heard you say Peter’s name, and you did not want him to find out about your secret relationship.

“Well maybe this someone should come over for dinner.” Tony offered, trying to come off as comfortable, but he clearly had alternative motives. “You’ve got Friday free? Why not then?”

You knew what he was going for. If you didn’t want to admit who it was, Tony thought that was a huge red flag, thinking you're dating some ‘bad influence’ but in reality, you're more likely to be the bad influence rather than Peter. 

“Actually, I’ve got-”

“Great, I’m thinking seven sharp, and tell this, uh.” Tony looked at you for a second, not wanting to say the words. “someone to dress nice. They have to impress me of course.”

“But what if I have plans and didn’t tell you?” You tried. “I could have a secret life you don’t know about.”

“You apparently do!” Tony sassed. He sighed and put his thumb and pointer finger on the bridge of his nose. “Look, I want to control your life as much as I can and you having a special someone in your life who you’ve done lord knows what with-”

Tony stopped himself, trying to calm down. “Point is, I am going to be the nice father that I am and get to know whoever has been stealing my daughter's time away from me.” You sighed and knew getting out of this dinner was pointless, you gave up and nodded. “Great, I’ll start looking for something we can all eat I guess.”

You sighed as Tony exited the door. You quickly took your phone and saw a bunch of text messages from Peter. 

ARE YOU OKAY?

WAS THAT YOUR DAD?

DID HE HEAR ME?

FUCKKKKKK

IS HE GOING TO KILL ME?????????

You smiled at Peter and quickly texted him back. 

Can you come over tomorrow night?

You saw the three little dots appear and Peter responded pretty quickly.

Oh really ;)

You scoffed and texted back.

Not like that but my dad *might* kill you.

~~

The next night came and when Peter snuck into your room, he was panicking from your dramatic text message--something you clearly learned from your dad. You had been separated the whole day; you were busy working in the lab while Peter was on patrol, so he was extra anxious about what was going on. 

Peter nearly fainted when you told him about the dinner Tony unknowingly invited him too. You had to give him a couple little kisses just to sooth him as much as you could, but it was fruitless. First of all he didn’t like missing the party, Harry had told him all about it for the past few months; second of all, he was perfectly content with being a coward and not coming clean to the Tony Stark, aka fucking Iron Man of all people, about his romance with you.

It's not that Peter isn’t serious about spending the rest of his life with you, he just wants the chance to; and if Mr.Stark finds out, Peter isn’t too sure if he could actually do that.

And of course the next few days leading up to the dinner Peter was absolutely terrified to step foot onto the compound of the tower. He tried his best to avoid Tony at all costs, he left early from the lab, making sure he was always with someone else to use as a buffer if he absolutely  had to be in the same room as him. He didn’t even sneak into your room for your midnight cuddles. He was too scared that his senses wouldn’t work and would end up being caught in the worst way possible, and he doubted that Tony would believe a teenage boy was going into his girlfriend's room for ‘just cuddles’. 

This dinner just kept getting worse and worse by the second and it hasn’t even happened yet. 

When Friday night did eventually roll around, Peter was beyond nervous and texting you like crazy after he was forced to leave early. Sending you pictures of possible outfits that would possibly work to impress your dad. They all would of course, Tony was already impress with Peter, he was a boy-genius and a fucking hero. There was no way to not be impressed with Peter fucking Parker.

You gave yourself one lookover in the mirror. Everything looked good, or as good as it could. You were trying to butter up your dad by wearing the old shirt he got for you a while back that was definitely never a look. But you were willing to wear it if it meant your dad would be nicer and more understanding.

You heard your phone buzz and you smiled and skipped over to your bed.

Can I have a kiss before I die?????

You rolled your eyes and started texting back.

You can have a kiss after dinner <3

You set your phone back down and went back to trying to calm yourself down. Peter was probably just leaving now, he told you today before he left that he would shoot you a text right as he was leaving, and if he is leaving now he should be arriving in-.

“Hello?”

Your head snapped up as you realized who that was. You raced out of your room to try and get to the front door before anyone else could see to slap the shit out of Peter. 

He was supposed to text you when he arrives, wait for you to bring him up the elevator, and not to just invite himself in.

“Hey, Peter, did you forget something?” You heard your dad speak up as he left the kitchen and to the foyer. “What's with the flowers and clothes?”

As you turned the corner you saw Peter standing in outfit number four you think. Brown pants and a mustard sweatshirt with a brown silhouette of saturn with a white collared shirt underneath. He also brought with him a nice bouquet of poppies, knowing it was Pepper’s and Morgan’s favorite flower type.

“Oh, uh, I’m just-” Peter stuttered. He shifted uncomfortably while not knowing what to say. He brought his hand to the back of his head, unsure what to do with himself.

Pepper's heels clicking alerted you of her presence before she spoke. “Is Y/n’s date here?” She turned the corner and gasped a little when she saw Peter. “Oh?” She spoke, then when it hit her, “Oh.”

Tony looked at everyone, the wheels slowly turning in his head. But when Pepper spoke, that was the final piece. “I’ll get Morgan for dinner then.”

Tony finally realized what was going on and glared at you and Peter. He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say, but didn't know where to start. 

“PETEY!” Morgan came running through and ran up to Peter and wrapped her little arms around him, postponing you all from an awkward conversation that will inevitably happen. 

Peter used his free arm and lifted Morgan to his waist, while also skillfully taking one poppy from the bouquet and handed it to her. She giggled and gave Peter another hug around his neck. 

“Thanks Petey.” She smiled and you both looked at her, a great way to avoid Tony's deathly stare. 

“So you two are…” You both looked up at Tony as he did hand gestures, unsure what to say. You slowly nodded your head and he just started nodding too.

“Cool, cool, you know, good for you guys.” He quickly turned around and headed for the kitchen. 

“Why is daddy acting all weird?” Morgan looked over to you and you just patted her head.

“Daddy’s just a weird guy.” You responded and took the bouquet from Peter. 

“We don’t have to go in, y'know.” You told Peter as you looked over at him, who was biting his lip. “We can leave now and he won’t be able to catch up to us.”

“But won’t that make things worse?” Peter thought. “I really like my relationship with your dad, and I don’t want to fu- mess it up.” He coughed and looked over to Morgan who was listening intently to yours and Peter's conversation.

“He thinks of you as his own so he won't be completely weird around you.” You tried to remain hopeful but to be blunt, both you and Peter knew you were screwed when you saw Tony’s face. You knew you were lying, Peter knew you were lying, hell, Morgan probably could figure out that you were lying.

“I’m hungry.” Morgan whined. Peter and you looked at each other and reluctantly started waking into the dining room.

In proper Stark fashion, each room was more elaborate and elegant then the last and the dining room is no exception. It almost seemed too fancy to use, but Pepper had insisted on the nicer dining room, wanting to fully expose your partner to the Stark world. 

But it seems he already has.

“Sit! Sit!” Pepper ushered you to your seat and Peter to the seat next to you. Pepper sat at the head of the table after she made sure Morgan was settled in her high chair. Tony sat opposite Peter, giving him a death glare.

You’re all accustomed to Peter eating dinner with your family. Just the context of tonight made everyone on edge. 

The food on the table looked tasty, one of the perks of a personal chef. Tonight you were having a curry, a meal you thoroughly enjoyed and luckily enough, one that Peter loved too. 

At least that’s one less problem for tonight.

“On the bright side we don’t have to do introductions.” Pepper nudged Tony to comment and he just nodded his head. Pepper rolled her eyes at her husband and turned back to you two.

“How long have you been together for?” 

“A little under a year.” Peter answered as he took a bite of food. Your eyes watched Tony as he choked on his food, Morgan had to pat him on the back with her little fists; something that you were guessing would be a common occurrence tonight.

“How nice.” Pepper smiled and you were so glad for her being here. She must have canceled that meeting tonight when she found out about Tony’s impromptu dinner. She was the only one—other than Morgan of course, who had no idea what was going on—who didn’t think this was a big deal. 

“Are you doing anything special for the anniversary?” Pepper asked.

“We were thinking about going to this festival upstate.” You answered, still glancing at your dad to gage his reaction. Right now he looked confused, an eyebrow sticking up slightly.

“That’s why you wanted to go upstate?” Tony slightly choked on his food while he was talking, making it come out a bit more raspy than normal. 

You completely forgot you asked him for the week off. You didn’t exactly lie, you did tell him about the festival, just not the date thing. 

You paused and nodded your head to him again. “Cool, cool, cool. Good for you guys.” 

You thought dinner was going better than what you could’ve hoped for. Pepper seemed pleased, Morgan didn’t give a shit—just happy to spend more time with her big sister and Peter. And your dad was just being himself...kind of at least.

But the next couple minutes we’re extremely awkward and silent, even chatty little Morgan was quiet. She would occasionally look over to you and try to ask you what was wrong with her dad, but even though she tried to be subtle, she is a Stark, she can’t do anything quietly.

“Why is daddy acting even weirder?” She harshly whispered, loud enough for you and the rest of the table to hear. You were about to answer but your dad beat you to it. 

“Well Morgan,” Tony coughed. “It’s because your big sister and Peter over there are fucking behind my back-”

“TONY!” Pepper screeched, hitting his arm hard. Peter spit out his water over the table and you choked on your food. That was not what you were expecting. But to be fair, Tony clearly wasn’t expecting Peter.

“Well how am I supposed to feel when I find out that not only is my daughter keeping a secret from me, but also my protege?!” Tony yelled, staring hard at Peter.

“Tony, oh my god, would you just-“

“OH MY GOD!” Tony covered his hand over his mouth and gasped. “WHAT IF YOU’RE NOT BEING SAFE!”

“DAD!”

“MR.STARK!” 

You and Peter sounded horrified and you rightfully were. Morgan had a smile on her face as she was playing with her food, treating this as some sort of live show for her. Pepper on the other hand had her fork pointed to Tony, giving another death glare. 

“Tony, that's really uncalled for-”

“SHE’S A STARK, MAYBE NOT BY GENETICS BUT SHE WAS RAISED BY ME AND MY STARKNESS RUBBED OFF ON HER AND I KNOW HOW I WAS WHEN I WAS HER AGE!”

“Mr.Stark, please, everything is perfect.” Peter’s voice sounded a bit like a plea, somehow trying to calm himself down and Tony down at the same time. 

Tony grumbled and sat back down and reached over and picked up Morgan, “I don’t want any of these, you hear me.”

“Yes, sir.” Peter nodded and you reached for his hand under the table, rubbing your thumb on his skin just as a subtle way to remind him that you’re there. 

Pepper cleared her throat, pushed the chair out and went over to Morgan to pick her up. “As lovely as this was, maybe it’s best to end it early.”

You grabbed Peter's hand and ran out of the kitchen and to the elevator. You looked over at Peter after you pushed the main floor button; he had a shocked expression on his face, his eyes were wide and he was leaning forward like he was going to be sick. 

“That was interesting.” He spoke up. He put his hands on his face, covering himself. You guided him into the elevator.

“Yeah, but at least now we can still make it to that party in Brooklyn.” You tried to make him feel better but he didn’t look like he was having it. You leaned on his shoulder and wrapped an arm around him. “He’ll get over it y’know.” 

He shook his head. “I will never be able to face him again.” 

“That’s not true.” You kissed his temple, the only part of his skin that wasn’t being covered by his hands. “Just maybe not for the next couple of days.”  He groaned and leaned a little more into you. “But, on the bright side I won’t be able to face him too so that means I’ll need a place to stay.”

His ears perked up and took his hands off his face. You kissed him on the lips and he seemed better. The redness on his face seemed to die down, but there was still a soft coating of pink blush on his cheeks. 

The elevator door dinged and you both exited quickly, not knowing if you would be chased down by an iron suit. Once you hit the street you looked over to Peter.

“So party or your place?”

[suga-kookiemonster]

ego 08

summary⇢ what’s a girl to do when her sweet, innocent baby lab partner isn’t quite so sweet and innocent? well, he’s a grown-ass man, and you’re about to learn that the hard way. pairing⇢ jungkook/reader word count⇢ 8.5k rating⇢ 18+ genre⇢ smut | humor | college!au | fuckboi!au | fratboy!au warnings⇢ none really, except that everybody and they mama in they feelings 😩 BUCKLE UP 😈

a/n⇢ THIS CHAPTER KEPT GETTING LONGER AND LONGER AND I’M GOING INSANE so i’ve finally just decided to split it lmao. please take this part now and anticipate the (actual) last chapter a lot sooner than i got this one out since it’s already 80% written!!! 

this chapter’s mood is this. hope you enjoy 😩

chapters⇢ previous | next | series masterlist

You knew your best friend.

You were perfectly aware that ignoring his texts and calls would not make him go away—that not responding in a timely manner would only result in him seeking you out. But, at the very least, you were sure you had bought yourself a couple of days. The fact that Namjoon was currently standing in the doorway to your living room, a plastic bag dangling from a couple fingers, was proof that you had been wrong.

Your eyes narrowed, immediately looking past him to where your traitorous roommate was casually rooting around in the refrigerator. “Meen! I thought we agreed no visitors!”

“Since when is Namjoon a visitor?” Mina snorted, not even bothering to spare you a glance. “He practically lives here.”

“Mina.”

“My bad,” she replied mildly, not sounding sorry in the least. She shut the fridge door, taking an unbothered sip from her newly-procured beverage as she headed back to her room with a shrug. “Maybe next time you should specify.”

“Really?” you hissed, but she didn’t even acknowledge your indignation as she left.

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, unimpressed and slightly offended. “I know you did not just try to call security on me.”

You let out a loud huff, turning away from him to moodily stare at your tv, intent on getting back to your Snapped marathon. “Joonie, go away, I’m done with men. All they do is disappoint me.”

“Hmm, are you sure about that? I brought you that Italian sub you like.”

At the sound of crinkling plastic, your attention rather predictably drifted back to where he was tauntingly swaying his bribe.

“…your pass expires in twenty-four hours.”

Namjoon ignored your grabby hands, instead choosing to join you on the couch and set the bag just out of reach on the coffee table. The cushion bounced a bit when he determinedly plopped down next to you, the two of you staring at each other in the stretching silence, waiting for the other to break. In the end, your best friend’s current patience turned out to be shorter than your current pettiness levels.

“What happened?” he asked rather gently. And just like that, his obvious concern easily reawakened the swirling emotion that you had been spending all day pushing down, down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just fine, Namjoon,” you sniffed, eyes shifting away. Down, down. “Just fine and dandy.”

From the look on his face, he didn’t believe you, and frankly, you didn’t blame him. Yes, it had been a few hours since you had essentially had a meltdown and manipulated your mutual friend into giving you his car, but that wasn’t nearly enough time to pull yourself together and rope your feelings into something more muted and productive. Joonie knew that—he knew you—and so he had clearly found you as soon as he could, seemingly hopping right off the BTS bus and making pit stops only to drop off his bag and pick up your sandwiches.

However, despite the logical part of your brain plainly laying all of these facts out for you, the panicky part still reigned supreme, reflexive in its feigned ignorance.

“_____, you are clearly not fine.”

“And so what if I’m not? What, did you come all the way here to comfort me by letting me rest my head on your bosom?”

He looked at you flatly. “For the last time, I do not have a bosom.”

“And for the last time, you do. Now stop fighting me and let me put my face in your titties. You know that always makes me feel better.”

“So you’re admitting that you feel bad,” Joon pointed out triumphantly.

Damn. You had walked right into that one.

“Who said that? Can’t a girl just get motorboated in peace?”

“AHT!” Namjoon interrupted, raising a warning finger.

“What?” you asked defensively.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“You know what.”

“What?”

“The whole shutting down and shutting people out thing you always do whenever you get really upset. I’m gonna need you to communicate and stop deflecting!”

You blinked, reflexively tensing at being read so blatantly. See, this was exactly why you had tried to stay away from Namjoon for as long as possible in the first place. He knew you way too well and wouldn’t allow you to properly wallow in your misery like you wanted. Rude ass.

At the look on your face, Namjoon let out a long sigh, simply opening his arms in invitation. You only paused for a moment before taking him up on the offer, pressing your face against his chest and immediately slumping into his warmth. As much as you teased, you hadn’t been lying about how comforting his chest was—your best friend gave the best hugs, and this was a perk you always made sure to take advantage of.

“Sorry I ruined the weekend,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Eh, you didn’t really ruin anything,” he told you, squeezing your shoulder. “There’s drama at the formal every year. I would actually be surprised if this one passed without any, honestly. And besides, I would say Mark created much more drama than you did.”

You perked up at the promise of good gossip. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“Well, Taehyung was very blatantly checking out one of the busboys at breakfast, and didn’t seem to care that everyone—including the dude he invited as his date for the weekend—could see him doing it. So Mark threw a bagel at him.”

Your eyebrow rose in surprise. Taehyung had always had a bizarre ability to catch pretty much everything that was thrown his way, even when caught off guard. His reflexes were so ridiculously on point that you once asked him if he had ever considered trying out for your school’s baseball team. (“Ehhh, I feel like that wouldn’t be a very welcoming environment,” he had replied vaguely, tacking on a damning wink. You had rolled your eyes, unsurprised that he had apparently run through enough of the baseball team that the environment was too hostile for him to even consider joining.)  

“He caught it,” Namjoon confirmed at the confusion on your face. “But that just made Mark more mad. So he grabbed Jimin’s orange juice and poured it over Tae’s head.”

“Yikes,” you grimaced in sympathy, lowkey sad you had missed the spectacle.

“Yeah, Jimin was pretty mad. It was fresh-squeezed and the kitchen had just run out of oranges, so that had been the last glass. But anyway, I basically had to nip a giant food fight in the bud and everyone forgot about any sort of alleged drama that could have involved you after that.”

That was a relief to hear. Despite your personality tending to edge more on the dramatic side than not, you were never the type to cause unnecessary drama, and loathed when other people did. Just the thought of your quick exit causing a scene made your stomach twist in embarrassment.

However, when Namjoon leaned slightly away from you so he could properly meet your eye, you realized that you weren’t completely in the clear. “Jin-hyung seemed pretty pissed off, though,” he said lightly, watching you closely for a reaction. “Wouldn’t tell me why, and only bothered to eat two plates, which we both know for him is unheard of. Especially at a buffet.”

You stiffened, lips unconsciously pursing shut.

“You gonna tell me why I had to stop him from whipping his French toast sticks at Jungkook like he was taking the Chunin Exams?” he prodded gently.

“…Ugh, you’re such a weeb.”

“And you understood that reference, so clearly so are you. Now what did I say about deflecting?”

You exhaled slowly through your nose, the silence stretching between you as Joon patiently waited you out. Because as much as you knew your best friend, Namjoon also knew you. He knew that you would only speak when you were ready, and so he was never one to pry—he would always simply make it clear that he that he was ready to listen whenever you needed to, and wordlessly offer his support in other ways. Like sandwiches. This was one of the qualities you really appreciated in your best friend.

“…It’s all just a misunderstanding,” you answered reluctantly.

The look Namjoon gave you was nothing short of incredulous. “You weren’t upset,” he deadpanned.

You didn’t blame the skeptical twist of his lips—you had suddenly zoomed off like a bat out of hell. “I was upset at me,” you tried to clarify, though you weren’t even sure you were convincing yourself. “Because I knew better. I knew better, and yet I still decided to be out here embarrassing myself and looking stupid. So I had to leave. That’s all. Can we please drop it?”

The furrow in Namjoon’s brow suggested he didn’t necessarily believe you were telling the whole truth. Still, he chose not to press you, and you were silently grateful. You weren’t lying about how mortified you still were, and the wounds were still too fresh for you to go into detail about what happened to your friend who, while supportive, would no doubt still hit you with some variant of Told you so. He didn’t say anything though, simply gave your knee a couple reassuring pats before finally reaching for the food bag.

You cleared your throat, ridding it of any collected emotion. “Does it have salami?”

“Of course it has salami,” he scoffed, handing you one of the sandwiches and starting to unwrap his own. “Who the fuck orders an Italian sub without salami?”

“I was just asking, don’t sass me!”

“Don’t ask stupid questions then,” he replied matter-of factly, taking bite and chewing obnoxiously.

Your eyes narrowed. “Twenty-three hours and forty-eight minutes, Kim.”

He waved you off, markedly unconcerned by your threat. And in that moment, you couldn’t stop the small tug of your lips. Despite your pitiful day, Namjoon had somehow made everything feel almost normal again, like the two of you were eating dinner together because it was simply another night.

You both ate in silence for a few moments, more focused on the food than anything else. But the second Namjoon’s eyes drifted to the tv and he realized what was on, he froze, shooting you a wary glance.

“What do you say we watch something else,” he suggested, cautiously reaching around you for the remote with the same care one would give an easily-spooked animal.

You paused in reaching for one of the bags of chips he had brought, attention moving to the satisfying reenactment of a lady running over her abusive husband with her car. “What? Why?”

Namjoon’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “No reason. Just feeling like it’s a B99 kinda night.”

You shrugged noncommittally, too interested in deciding between barbecue and salt and vinegar to notice his sigh of relief. “Knock yourself out.”

“C-Cool. How’s the sandwich?”

“Bussin’,” you answered honestly, too into the food to be anything but.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

It didn’t escape you that not too long ago, it had been Jimin who had made your gut clench in anxiety. But now that you found yourself in this situation, you could blatantly see the difference. Feel the difference. Jimin had been perfect on paper—handsome, sweet as pie, and seemingly into you—and so it hadn’t been hard for you to fixate on the progression of your relationship that you had been sure was happening. It had definitely stung when you finally realized that wasn’t the case.

But your sporadic Jimin flirtation couldn’t hold a candle to the time you had spent with Jungkook. The literal hours, months, spent simply chatting, at first about the class that forced you into each other’s orbit in the first place, but quickly about everything else. You knew his quirks—knew that he bizarrely enjoyed doing laundry, and actually took the time to separate his whites and colors and delicates and use all the appropriate settings. A college fratboy who literally had a favorite brand of fabric softener. You knew that he got the little scar on his cheek from fighting with his brother when he was young. And he knew that you often pulled all-nighters, because you were a terrible procrastinator. (He had never seemed anything other than amused when you fell down Youtube blackholes at 3am and sent him videos of how to survive if you were ever swallowed by a whale). He knew how, during a family vacation when you were young, your aunt had unthinkingly given you one of those shitty disposable cameras. How you had taken immortalizing your vacation on film bizarrely seriously for a child, and that the developed photos had revealed that you had enough of an eye for the visual arts that your parents decided to start enrolling you in classes.    

Yes, Jimin’s rejection had stung. But it hadn’t felt anywhere near like what you were feeling now, now that you had actually opened up. Had actually let your guard down and offered pieces of yourself.  

You hadn’t been lying to Namjoon—you were embarrassed. Positively mortified that you had ignored all reason, had somehow convinced yourself that Jungkook actually liked you. Liked you how you wanted him to. Liked you the way you liked him.

But you should have known better. You knew better, and yet you still ignored your instincts, still ignored logic.

Because, like you had told Mina all those months ago, you got attached in relationships.

And Jungkook didn’t.

You weren’t dumb—you knew he liked you too, knew he definitely enjoyed being in your company. He couldn’t fake that—the two of you had spent enough time together over the last few months that genuine camaraderie and affection had bloomed. But at the end of the day, it was clear that you cared more than he did.

Against all your efforts, what the two of you had done actually meant something to you. Had actually altered something between you that, at least for you, couldn’t be changed back. But to Jungkook? You had been a welcome challenge. Nothing more than a game that he had finally won.

How could this have happened? How could you have read things so completely wrong?

When Namjoon finally went home and you were once again left alone with your thoughts, your brain wouldn’t stop going over every single moment from the past few months, searching for the signs of deception you had to have missed. It was hard, because Jungkook was one of the most genuine people you knew—his emotions were often visible on his face, and he said what he meant and meant what he said. At least…at least you had thought so...but the more you pondered, the more it became obvious that you had been set up.

He had charmed you, broken down your carefully-built walls brick by brick. He had noticed right away that his usual strategy wouldn’t work on you, so instead he switched tactics and backed off. Simply lured you in with carefully-placed bait. Made you relax your defenses so gradually that you hadn’t realized you were doing it. The soft smiles, the casual hand on the small of your back or on your knee, the warm arm slung over your shoulder. The hotel room with only one bed that he had “forgotten” to mention to you. The way he had made sure to take your bag to the room himself so you wouldn’t see the single bed until you were too tired and drunk to care.

All he had to do was wait—and you fell right into his trap. A sheep led to slaughter, just, as Jungkook had made sure to point to you, like the other girls.

So yes, you were embarrassed that you had fallen for it. And yes, you couldn’t help but also be upset at him, despite the rational part of your brain repeatedly reminding you that he had promised you nothing. So, to try to let your emotions simmer down enough for your rationality to return, you felt it best to keep your distance from Jungkook for a while.

He had called you on your frazzled drive home from the hotel, but you had gotten away with ignoring him by sending him a quick text telling him that you were a bad driver and didn’t want to be distracted. When he texted you a few hours later, you didn’t respond right away, and when you did, you told him that you still weren’t feeling well, and had passed out as soon as you got home. But that excuse didn’t work out the way you hoped it would.

[02:45] jeon 😒 Wow, are you sure you’re okay? I can bring you some medicine or soup or something

[02:55] no, don’t worry about it! I’m pretty sure it’s just a stomach bug, but I don’t want to expose you just in case

[02:56] jeon 😒 Babe, I’ve been exposed all weekend lol

[02:56] jeon 😒 whatever it is, if it’s contagious, I definitely already have it 😉

His casual allusion to what the two of you had done easily triggered your stomach into knots, and you found yourself unable to answer him, mind whirring about how you should reply. And after Namjoon had barged in and stolen your attention, you essentially ended up leaving him on read.

The BTS formal being scheduled right before finals meant that you were lucky enough to only have to soldier through one more week of class. Blessedly, there were no more chemistry labs for the semester—just one last lecture, and you easily skipped it to avoid him, praying that the slides your professor uploaded later were thorough enough for you to get the gist. And then after that, you were essentially free, able to easily avoid the areas he often frequented and focus more on getting your portfolio together and preparing for oncoming exams.

Jungkook did still try to contact you, of course. Because you were too much of a coward to block him and be done with it, you still saw it when he tried to check in on you (missed you in class today ☹️ ) and randomly sent you funny memes. This was all normal behavior before, but now, now that your heart had escaped its ribcage and seemingly made a new permanent home in your throat, your responses came off as rather lukewarm, even to you. The excuse that you still didn’t felt well, an lol that looked like the afterthought that it was.

A few days into finals week and a solid week after you had abandoned him at the lake, Jungkook tried again.

[02:56] 🚨❌🚨🚫 Hey, do you think we could get together and study? My notes say “meniscus” everywhere

[02:56] 🚨❌🚨🚫 miniscust? menisqus??? it’s spelled differently every time I wrote it 😩

[02:57] 🚨❌🚨🚫 what the fuck is a mainissiscuss, please help

Your chemistry final was in a couple days, so it made perfect sense that he would want to get together and go over things one last time. Still, you found yourself staring at the words, anxiety spiking at the thought of seeing him and pretending that everything that had happened between you never did. That nothing had changed between the two of you and everything was normal.

[02:57] sorry, I’m just really swamped rn

[02:58] but i think the meniscus has something to do with test tubes

[02:58] I feel like the professor always told us to look for that

He never replied, and, strangely, that only made you simultaneously relieved and more anxious.

Your chemistry final was being held in a larger lecture hall than the class had taken place in—multiple classes were being tested at the same time and seating was alphabetical, so it was easy for you to slip into the crowd and disappear without catching a glimpse of Jungkook at all. Good luck he had texted you, and you had responded with a simple you too.

You were running, just like you always did. And, to your surprise, the universe was actually letting you. But, as is always the case, just when you started to relax, just when you started to breathe again, the rug was pulled from under you.

You had been really careful to avoid all places you knew Jungkook might appear. However, you had been so focused in your task that what you hadn’t stopped to consider was that he knew all your places as well.

Jungkook finally caught you where he had caught you once before—your favorite library, in the lesser-known room about medieval medicine. You had been studying there for hours, preparing for an upcoming exam, and the way the words were starting to move nonsensically across your vision was the clue you needed that you should probably take a break. So, with a tired sigh, you gathered your things, intent on stopping somewhere for a quick lunch before heading home. But when you turned to leave your small alcove, you were startled to find Jeon Jungkook standing there like some sort of wide-eyed hallucination.

The sudden appearance of the man you had been actively avoiding for weeks almost made you jump out of your skin, and Jungkook jumped too, your surprise triggering his.

“You scared me,” you breathed, a hand resting on your chest as a reflexive comfort to your racing heart. Unfortunately, now that your initial scare was subsiding and your brain had more time to process the situation, your fight or flight response was not likely to back down.

Fuck.

He looked the same as the last time he had found you here so many months ago—wide-eyed, draped in sweats with a backpack slung over his shoulder. But at the same time, he looked much different. His hair had gotten longer over the months, his shaggy bangs wisping over his eyes to such a degree that he now needed to part it to see, the view of his forehead that had once unnerved you now such a common occurrence that you didn’t even notice anymore. He was still big—had been so from the first day you met—but now, inadvertently trapping you in this small space, he seemed especially so. And, of course, the energy between you had changed completely. Gone was the sense of harmless flirtation, and in its place was unspoken tension. A sort of hesitance.

You cleared your throat, eyes shifting slightly to the side, focusing on the space over his shoulder so you wouldn’t have to look at him directly. “What are you doing here?”

“I just stopped to get some Starbucks up front,” he replied, lifting the cup he had apparently been holding. The insignia indeed claimed it to be from Starbucks. “And I remembered you liked studying back here sometimes, so I thought I’d check to see if you were here.” He shuffled a bit from foot to foot. “Um, are you feeling better?”

What a loaded question. A fair one, but much more complicated than he realized.

“A little bit, yeah.” You let out a nervous chuckle. “It’s been a weird couple of weeks, but finals wait for no one, right?”

“Right.” He shifted again, and your eyes couldn’t help but stray back to his face. His eyebrows were pinched slightly, in a tic you’d come to learn he did when he was thinking. That renewed the urgency in your veins—you didn’t want to be around when he gathered his thoughts.

You walked forward with intent and he reflexively stepped back, freeing you from the corner he had unintentionally trapped you in. “Well, I was just heading out, so—”

“W-Wait! Um, I’ve been meaning to show you something, but I haven’t been able to catch you.”

Before you realized it was happening, the timidity of his tone intrigued you—made you forget about the alarm pumping through your veins. The words halted your quick escape, and you had no choice but to pause to regard him again, body still cautiously angled towards the door. “What’s up?”

His smile was small and shy. “I got accepted into my major.”

This was news to you, your surprise melting away any and all reservations as you turned to face him fully. “Major?”

He grinned, too much teeth. “Fine Arts—painting and drawing.”

You moved without realizing it, your excitement propelling you forward. “Oh my god, Jungkook, that’s so great!” you exclaimed, pulling him into a delighted hug. “You never told me you had even decided on one. I’m so proud of you!”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Jungkook breathed against your hair, his voice a smile. He hugged you back easily, arms comfortably circling your waist and pulling you against his body.

He smelled fresh and clean, like he had just hopped out the shower and pulled on clothes straight from the dryer. He felt big against you, the warmth of his body enveloping yours, but you found that comforting and familiar.

The unbidden memory of exactly why you unconsciously recognized the slot of his body against yours hit you like a truck, breath catching in your throat. Abruptly, you lifted your head from his chest and made to step back.

But Jungkook didn’t let you go right away, not privy to your distress. Arms still around you, fingers comfortably laced together and resting dangerously close to your ass. Warily, your gaze lifted, dragging up his chest to his face. He was looking back at you, smile big, eyes crinkling in the corners. “It’s all thanks to you, noona,” he said softly.

And that’s when you realized—with growing horror—that his face was getting closer.

He was going to kiss you.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Alarmed but trapped, you managed to turn your head at the last second, his lips to landing on your cheek instead of their intended target. Jungkook pulled back, visibly perplexed.

“Y-You don’t have to thank me,” you spluttered, tone too high, even to your own ears. You stepped back, and this time, he confusedly let you out of his hold. “I just pointed out other possibilities. The rest was all you!”

Jungkook’s mouth opened and closed a couple times before he seemed to find the right words. “Noona,” he hedged, tone careful, but unsure.  “Are you…mad at me?”

Your heart stopped, head a little too quick to shake to not rouse any suspicion. You hoped he didn’t notice your alarm. “No.” Because if you were mad, you would have to explain the humiliating reason why. “Why would you think that?”

“Well it’s just…” There was a little wrinkle between his brows as he contemplated your words, and for a moment, his lips parted like he was going to tell you exactly why he thought that. But Jungkook seemed to think the better of it, a single shake of his head ridding him of the thought. “Never mind.”

You let out a laugh, manic as you started backing towards the exit. “Anyway, I have to go—I was just leaving.” Shit, he was probably going to follow you out. He had to leave too, after all. “Um, gotta run to the bathroom beforehand so. See you later—congrats again!”

An expression crossed Jungkook’s face—bewilderment mixed with something else—but you didn’t let your eyes linger on him long enough to analyze it. Instead you booked it to the door, not bothering to check if he  was following you, then headed straight for the bathroom down the hall so you could properly hide. So you could lock yourself in a stall and try to catch your breath, head in your hands.

You expected some sort of followup—expected a text or three. But your phone stayed remarkably quiet over the next few days, a testament to your friends—and Jungkook—being too preoccupied with their own exams to hound you. But despite the knowledge of that small respite, you still found yourself tightly wound, almost as if you were waiting for something to happen. For the other shoe to drop.

Your work became a welcome distraction. For the next couple days, you practically lived in your photo studio, posted in front of your computer. And yes, your photography final was right around the corner, but it didn’t slide past you that while you were busy trying to perfect the final touches on your portfolio, you were also conveniently spending a lot of time behind a door that required a keycard to open.

And just like that, the universe allowed you to simply exist, hidden deep in a bubble of your own creation where everything was fine.

Until it didn’t.

And it wasn’t.

The day of your final arrived more quickly than you expected it to. Which was inherently silly, because you had been preparing for it all semester, had known its exact date down to the minute for weeks now. Still, you found yourself sweating a bit under the sensible blazer you had thrown over your dress that day in an attempt to appear more professional.

You weren’t the only one who had put effort into your appearance. Although your photography final wasn’t being held anywhere special—simply in the lower lobby of the fine arts building—your department had somehow managed to make it look legit. As there were only six people in your seminar, there was enough space for all of you to really spread out your portfolios and give them room to breathe. This resulted in what was technically your final exam giving off the feeling of a true art exhibit. Hell, light refreshments were even being served, and your professor’s previous instruction to invite whoever you wanted meant that, despite it being 3pm during finals week, there were a decent amount of people flitting between all of your pieces. This naturally all culminated in you turning into the nervous artist, hoping your work would be well-received by your professor and everyone who walked by.

The hard part of your project already completed, your assignment now was to simply hang around for a couple hours as strangers perused your work and your professor slowly made his way through all portfolios and settled on the final grades he felt were befitting. The strange time of day, particularly during finals week, meant that not all of your friends were able to come, but the few that were able to support you did. Earlier, while the exhibition was still technically closed and you had been carefully arranging your pieces to your liking within your allotted space, Yoongi had briefly stopped by, silently perusing all of your photos before circling back to you and patting your shoulder with an appreciative nod. That had been high praise from the relatively quiet man, who unfortunately couldn’t stay very long due of his own academic commitments. Still, you were truly touched that he took the time to show up and support you at all.

More of your friends trickled in during the appropriate scheduled showing hours. You couldn’t help but be surprised when Hobi was your second visitor to appear, his signature dazzling grin making an appearance as well as he idled towards you, hands casually in his pockets.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you breathed gratefully, pulling him into a quick hug.

“Of course I would come,” he scoffed playfully, giving you a responding squeeze. “Why wouldn’t I?” Naturally, his attention was almost immediately drawn to your photos, visibly impressed as he glanced over the pieces closest to where the two of you stood. “Wow. You’re actually good.”

You snorted, amused even as your eyes narrowed. “I can’t tell if I should be offended or not, so for your sake, I’m just gonna take that as a compliment.”

Hoseok laughed, holding his hands up unthreateningly. “It is one. That just came out wrong!”

Your witty retort was diverted by an arm slinging over your shoulder, and there was Namjoon, dimples on full display as he grinned ear to ear. “You did it,” he greeted happily. “Congrats!”

“I did it,” you agreed, grinning back. Considering he had been the primary unfortunate soul who had to listen to you bitch about this project all semester, feelings of relief and pride were no doubt shared by both of you. “Thanks for coming, Joon.”  

He waved you off easily, as if what you just said was ridiculous. It was then that you noticed Lisa lagging a few feet behind him, the pictures you had displayed on the walls clearly distracting her from making her way over immediately. The clear awe on her face really touched you, but were even more so that she had taken the time at all to come out and support you.

“Wow,” she breathed, mouth a little slack as she finally meandered over and reached out to hug you. Her eyes couldn’t help but be drawn by the nearby photo you had taken of her and Namjoon, smiling at each other and sitting side by side on the ferris wheel. It actually was one of your personal favorites—you had somehow managed to catch the exact moment they had looked at each other and had obviously seen nothing else. Because the photo had been spontaneously taken on your little drunken outing at the formal a few weeks before, you had captured it using your cellphone instead of your Nikon. Still, the quiet emotion of the moment had still managed to translate beautifully in print.

You hugged returned her hug, warm inside. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course,” she smiled sincerely. “Wow, _____, this all looks amazing!”

“I think it ended up working out,” you agreed hesitantly, a bit shy at her praise. While your other friends had been exposed to your photography throughout the years, this was a first for Lisa, and it always felt different to have new critics. Besides, while it was common for there to be traces of the artist in their work, it wasn’t until you finally started narrowing down and editing photos for your own that you realized just how personal this collection was. How close it ended up being to your heart.

“I think I’m gonna take a look around,” Hoseok said suddenly, giving you a distracted pat on the shoulder.

Curiously, you followed his line of sight…right over to where your friend Luisa, who must have snuck in while you had been chatting with the others, was sipping on a drink and contemplating a photo you knew to be of Hoseok himself. You snorted, fully aware that Hobi had shown up solely to support you, but was also on a neverending quest to get his dick wet. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be looking, alright,” you retorted with an amused shake of your head.

Your slutty fratboy friend only responded by throwing you a peace sign over his shoulder, already fully zeroed-in on his target and striding away. Luckily for him, you knew Luisa to be able to handle her own, and you were much too nervous about your portfolio to really stick your nose into his business like you normally would. Besides, it didn’t take very long for you to become distracted by a much more pressing issue.

An elbow tapped you in the side, and you turned to find Lisa, shooting you a rather sly look. “Looks like somebody else came to see you.”

Bemused by her teasing tone, you naturally followed the pointed incline of her head. But what you found there knocked your breath immediately out of you.

Jungkook.

Jungkook, staring at a photo of himself in what could only be described as wonder.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You couldn’t ignore him—now that he had been pointed out to you and you had obviously seen him, both Lisa and Namjoon were looking at you expectantly. Just waiting for you to do something when truly the only thing you wanted to do was dart under a table before he saw you.

There was no clean way out of it. Either you went to him or he came to you, and you would rather have the upper hand.

“I’m gonna go say hi.” You cleared your throat, hoping to dislodge the knot that was forming there. It didn’t move. “Why don’t you guys take a look around? Don’t forget to have some of those little sprinkle cookies. Those are good.”

“Me, ignore free food?” Lisa scoffed incredulously, linking her arm through Joon’s and dragging him towards the refreshment table. “Hilarious.”

You watched them leave, taking a few measured breaths. A few moments to steel yourself. And when you were sure your defenses were properly built back up, you made your way over.

Jungkook was too immersed in the photo to notice your approach, dark eyebrows furrowed deep thought. It took a pointed clear of your throat for his eyes to reflexively dart in your direction, recognition of you chasing away the haze in them. “_____!”

“Hey,” you greeted, tone carefully polite. “What are you doing here?”

That seemed to throw him a bit, blinking a few too many times before answering you. “You invited me, remember?” He offered you a small, hesitant smile. “A while ago. And, um, Namjoon-hyung mentioned a few days ago that it was today, so I just thought I’d drop by. I hope that’s okay?”

You had invited him, hadn’t you? And of fucking course Namjoon would conveniently open his big mouth and remind him. “Yeah, of course. Thank you for coming,” you exhaled, defeated, but still meaning it. Because despite everything, he was still here to support you—and even if that was just as friends, you were grateful.

“I told you I would,” he replied, a bit too fondly for your liking. Your defense trembled, but ultimately stayed strong. Jungkook’s attention returned to your photo. “Wow, noona. You’re really talented. Is this really what I look like?”

Your stomach twisted. “That’s…” You swallowed, unsure how to respond but deciding to go for honesty. “That’s how I see you.”

You inwardly cursed at unintended softness of your voice, fighting to hold your composure as Jungkook looked at you again. He didn’t say anything, a glint of something in his gaze as he stared you down. The silence that settled between you started to slowly suck the oxygen from your lungs, but finally, a few seconds later, he returned his attention to the photo and set you free. “What was the subject again?”  

You were on such high alert, adrenaline pumping wildly through your veins, that you didn’t respond to him right away. Jungkook took your silence as confusion, attempting to clarify.

“Of your project.”

Ah. Yes, your project. The reason why, despite weeks of careful evasion on your part, the two of you had still ended up closely occupying the same space at this very moment. You completely understood why he was asking—you had taken an interesting, more intimate approach to the prompt that you hoped would pay off when it came to your final grade.

“Light.” You shuffled a bit from foot to foot, the nerves you had from sharing your art overtaking the ones you had from being forced to interact with him. “I was really struggling with that direction when I tried to take it literally, but the longer I sat with it, the more I realized that light could mean different things and come from different places. That it could even come from people.”  

It was only when you had stopped putting so much pressure on yourself, going through life and naturally taking snapshots of the time spent with your friends, that you finally discovered the true form of your portfolio. Namjoon and Lisa gazing at each other on the ferris wheel. Yoongi casually smoking late one night, the embers of his cigarette glowing rather hauntingly as he took a pull. The glow of a laptop screen, carefully balanced between two pairs of Snuggied legs. A handful of others taken of your favorite places; of your favorite people.

And the photo of Jungkook at the lake, hair wisped by wind, smiling so hard and with so much teeth his eyes crinkled in the corners. The sunlight that refracted from the ice haloing him in glittering rainbow.

The center of your exhibit. The moment that had sparked your revelation. The subject who had allured your muse.

That lump in your throat was back, threatening to trigger the burning behind your eyes. It was time to go.

“Anyway, thank you again for coming,” you tried, making to move away. “It was nice seeing you—”

But Jungkook caught you by the wrist, freezing you in your tracks. Slowly, reluctantly, you turned to meet his fervent gaze. “Things are weird,” he insisted. Tone somehow simultaneously soft, but sure. “Why are they weird?”

“What are you talking about?”

He gestured between you. “Us. Things are weird between us, and I don’t know why. Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

“No.” You held your breath, unable to meet his eyes. Subtly shifted out of his hold, though obviously not subtle enough, from the way Jungkook’s lips pursed at the action. “Why do you keep asking that?”

“Well, aside from the fact that you’ve been avoiding me for weeks and how even now you act like you can barely stand being near me, why wouldn’t I think that, _____?” He shuffled restlessly, running an agitated hand through his hair. “It’s just—is this about that day?”

Nope. NOPE. Your hackles raised, adrenaline starting to pump through your system in preparation for the impeding fight you now knew without a doubt was about to occur. “We’re not doing this,” you said quietly.

Jungkook huffed out a humorless laugh. “Not doing what?” he shot back, tone laced with enough audible irritation that your guard shot up even more. “Talking about what happened between us?”

This was not happening. Shut it down, shut it down. “Jungkook, can we please not do this right now?” He looked a little perturbed at your words, and if you were smart, you would have shut your mouth there. But if history had taught you anything, it was that you weren’t very smart when it came to Jungkook.

So you kept talking.

“You know what? We should just forget it—”

“Forget it ever happened?” he snapped, a storm visibly raging through him.

And there it was. He was pissed. Pissed at you, and no longer willing to bite his tongue. He stepped closer to you, jaw clenched, and the intensity of his gaze refused to let you look away. You had emotion bubbling beneath your skin, but, you quickly realized, so did he.

“Forget it happened, like we always do?” he continued, rapidly shaking his head. “Well I can’t. And I don’t want to.”

“Jungkook,” you hissed, entirely overwhelmed. People were starting to stare. Your professor, slowly making his way through grading everyone’s pieces, was curiously looking over at you from across the room. Your hands were starting to shake, and you had to curl them into fists to hide them. “Can we not do this here?”

“Then when?” he demanded. “Where? Because you never want to—never even try to—” His voice started to crack and it surprised you both, Jungkook cutting himself off abruptly. He stepped away from you, flustered and still shaking his head. A shaky breath escaped his lips, volume dialed almost to a whisper when he spoke again. “You know what? Never mind. I’m sorry I bothered you. Congratulations, your photos are beautiful.”

You could only hollowly watch as he turned on his heel and quickly walked away, exiting the gallery and leaving you rooted to the spot. Leaving you standing in front of a giant picture of him, smiling and happy and full of so much light.

You bit your lip, pointedly focusing on the taste of metal instead of how your stomach was twisting and vision starting to blur.

The difference of life vs. art.

You were left alone for a little while, your other friends too busy meandering through the area and admiring your classmates’ projects to truly notice the way you were frozen in place, unseeing. It was only when Namjoon crossed your path again, intending to peruse the other side of the room, that the look on your face made him do a double-take. He warily took a couple steps back until he stood before you, getting straight to the point. “What’s the matter?”

The pause you took between his question and the answer you were scrambling for was apparently too long, a deep frown settling in his features. He immediately started looking around, catching on much too quickly for your liking. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“I don’t know. He left.”

The look in his eye was suspicious. “Why would he leave? He literally just got here.”

“We had a fight, so he left,” you answered, a clear defensive edge to your tone. “Now can you please drop it?”

Your best friend let out an audible exhale, letting the silence marinate between you for a few moments as he pointedly looked at the photo you both were standing in front of. Happy, sparkly Jungkook looked back. “You had a fight, huh? Was it because of this?”

“What about that?”

Namjoon laughed, but there was no humor in it. “What about that? Are you serious?” You chose not to reply, and Joon took that as an invitation to no longer hold back. “You know, I promised myself that I would stay out of this little cat and mouse…situation you two have going on. But at this point, I’m exhausted. And I know I can’t be the only one—you guys gotta be too. So can you just cut the bullshit?”

“Excuse me?”

“Really, _____?” he groaned, looking heavenward for guidance. “If you don’t want to be with him, that’s fine, but at this point, this is all starting to be too cruel.”

You sputtered, taken off guard and mind spinning.

“Please stop pretending you don’t know what am I talking about,” he continued flatly. “Jungkook. You’ve literally spent all semester being upset about Jimin’s mixed signals, but you’re pretty damn good at sending those yourself. You’re breaking that boy’s heart!”

“…Breaking his…” You stared blankly at Namjoon, your thoughts whirring past so quickly that they barely stuck around long enough for you to process them.

“You can’t seriously be this dense. _____! He likes you! Like, a lot. A LOT.” He rubbed his temples, a growl of frustration leaving him. “Look, if you don’t want him, fine, but please stop dragging him along. He’s a good kid.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” you scoffed, heart still pounding at his words. “What happened to you insisting that he’s a sex-crazed monster who would only use me and toss me away like a tissue?”

Despite his obvious irritation, Namjoon’s lips still twitched into a small smile. “That definitely used to be true, but these past few months have shown me otherwise. The way I hear him talk about you…”

You rapidly shook your head, hands clutching each other in an effort to mask the way they were threatening to shake. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” he demanded. “Telling you the truth you need to hear?”

“The truth?” you scoffed. “The fuck is this supposed to be—you get yourself a lil’ girlfriend and now all of a sudden you’re a relationship expert?”

Namjoon’s lips immediately thinned in annoyance. “Cut it out,” he snapped. “You’re pissing me off and I’m trying to help you.”

That gave you proper pause. As exasperating and stubborn as you knew you could sometimes be, Namjoon could be just as much so—and that similarity was somehow one of the things that made your friendship work. That, and the fact that neither of you hesitated to check each other when need be, making sure you never went too far.

And right now? Namjoon was checking you.

You bit back the snarky rebuttal that was ready and waiting at the tip of your tongue and took a deep breath to try to calm yourself. Namjoon sighed too, running a tired hand through his hair. His roots are growing in, you thought rather deliriously.

“_____,” he tried again. Softer this time, holding your gaze. “When have I ever lied to you?”

You opened your mouth, but he cut you off before you could even attempt to deflect. “When it mattered?” he pressed. “When have I ever lied to you when it mattered?”

There was no truthful reply you could give him. Because he was right. He was your best friend, and he would never lie to you.

Despite knowing this, you still found yourself shaking your head. “Then I guess you just don’t know him as well as you think you do. I was just a challenge to him, Joon. It was all a game.”

“A game,” he deadpanned, looking at you like you were stupid. “You’re kidding, right? You really think he’s playing games after what he submitted with his major application?” At your confused silence, he could only heavenward for guidance. “You two are ridiculous.”

Your brain was scrambling, racing to try to keep up with the partial information Namjoon kept casually flinging at you. “H-His application? I really don’t see how that matters—”  

“Of course it matters! Just ask him.” His tone left no room for arguments, his patience clearly thin. “Ask him to show you. And then make up your mind before he makes it for you.”

You wanted to pry more, wanted to get him to spill whatever it was he was obviously privy to that you weren’t. But it was at that moment that you noticed your professor making his way over to you, having decided that this exact moment was the perfect time to come chat with you about your project. Namjoon noticed him too, shooting you a pointed look that warned you that he wasn’t quite done telling you about yourself, but would let it go for now.

“I’ll ask,” you promised quietly. “After this. I promise.”

Namjoon simply gave you one last look before shaking his head and walking away. “When did my life turn into an episode of The Hills, Jesus Christ,” you heard him mutter to himself.

“_____! What do we have here?” Your professor greeted you with a smile and a friendly clap on the shoulder, looking up at the giant Jungkook photo. “Wow, this is certainly a statement, huh?”

Bile climbed up your throat but you ignored it, forced to put your current crisis on the back burner in favor of attempting to focus on small talk and your final grade.

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