#this is so stupid and i’m oversharing but i’ve already typed it out and i can’t keep crying to my friends over same shit from 3 months ago

[uhode]

she posted like parts of a photo from this summer on her instagram story doesn’t matter whatever i am in that photo and it’s the beach at the end of my street and i am going to be fucking sick i hope i really fucking hope it makes her a bit sick too

[reachgirl]

On Buddie and them potentially being aware of their feelings

So we definitely see evidence of how Eddie might feel about Buck, how he clearly loves and trusts him. He absolutely relies on Buck a lot as someone who loves Christopher, as that person you go to who cares about your kid as much as you do. And he clearly doesn’t handle not having Buck around very well during the storyline that must not be named. 

He also looks at Buck like “you’re lucky you’re pretty”, a LOT. And he’s shown to think about Buck’s wellbeing and Buck’s feelings. For a guy who’s not usually great at ~the talking~, he seems to sense that Buck needs to hear him actually *say* things like that he trusts him, out loud. For Buck, someone who’s been told that he’s reckless and impulsive, not diligent, not reliable (and to be fair to Bobby, has been all those things at times, but is desperate to change that view of himself), to be told that he’s trusted - more than anyone else - with someone’s kid? That’s huge. And Eddie knew that he needed to hear that, he also knew that he needed to feel like part of something when Buck was depressed and hanging around at home after the truck bombing. And Eddie was the one who noticed Buck wasn’t around at the station. For Eddie, the fact that they “have each other’s backs” is so important, because, and it’s insane how this is not wishful thinking on the fandom’s part, he actually tells Shannon that she doesn’t have his back. So yeah, absolutely nobody is disputing that Eddie loves Buck.

And I’ve talked about how I believe that Eddie might be bi leaning towards more into men than women (his “not my type” and aunt pepa’s reaction to buck are the foundation for this theory), and his particular combination of upbringing, experience and location really messing with him admitting that to himself (Conservative religious culture, Texas, army, getting married young because of outside expectations). But many of the scenes we get from him could - FROM THE OUTSIDE - very well just show a guy who has a lot of love and respect (and occasionally some fond exasperation) for his best friend. Possibly more, but not in that active, pining way. Not like he’s truly aware of it, yet.

But Buck? He pretty much always looks at Eddie like he’s the best thing that has happened to him, ever, and he can’t believe his luck of getting to be around this man. The smile he constantly gives him, and - in seasons 2 and 3 - only him, is the actual “I want to sleep with you smile” from season 1 Buck. I don’t make the rules.

He constantly finds ways to help him out, reads up on things he knows Eddie is interested in or things that are for some reason something Eddie is dealing with (whether it’s baseball biographies or summer camp brochures), and absolutely always looks to him for approval anytime he does something well or remotely badass. Or even when he makes a joke. It’s almost like 95% of the stuff he does, he does so that Eddie will see.

He sees himself as part of Eddie’s family to the point of not feeling like he’s a guest at their house, he has proven he would actually die for Chris, and he spends much of his free time finding ways of making Chris, the most important person in Eddie’s life, happy. He shares in both the happy and the difficult parts of raising Chris, he gets involved in school problems, and he’s there for Eddie to talk through all the little things that come up when you’re a parent. Often times, with single parents, when the other parent isn’t around, the problem is that there’s nobody else in your life who shares the same love and enthusiasm or worry you have for your child. You could talk about everything relating to them for hours, but even the best meaning friends will at some point reach the limit of how interested they are. Not so with Buck.

But unlike Eddie, Buck is also aware, to a point, of how much he’s focused on Eddie. Where Eddie’s jealousy comes across as more spur-of-the-moment, not something he’s even aware of, Buck seems like.. he’s thought about how he feels about Eddie. Others definitely have. Maddie’s comment about his “man crush” aside, even a random christmas elf (long may she live) comments on it. Hen and Karen immediately agree Buck would invite Eddie, like, Karen knows about this even. Their reaction when Buck is acting irrational over how they might get Eddie out when he’s buried alive and most likely dead already is that reaction of “Oh fuck, this will break this person” that is usually reserved for the significant other or parent. Bobby definitely reacts to Buck in relation to Eddie the way a father would, carefully weighing being amused at how obvious he’s being, and concern over not wanting him to get hurt doing something stupid trying to save Eddie, or by falling for him when it might not be reciprocated. They all know that Buck’s a little (more than) smitten with Eddie. And Buck... of course he’s going to notice how his friends and family react. I think he’s been aware of it for a while and is constantly trying to navigate and balance this. 

Of course he hasn’t told his face about balancing anything at all yet, because look at that man’s face any time he looks at Eddie, look at that scene with the medal. He absolutely can’t help it. And sometimes it’s like he wants them to pick up on it - for example, pushing Maddie on the fact that he doesn’t consider himself a guest. And that’s completely understandable, sometimes you want people to pick up on something and maybe even comment on it (because their reaction reaffirms to you that maybe you’re not crazy) while also not wanting attention on that point. People are complicated like that. And Buck may be a himbo, but he’s complicated AF.

We get Buck being really weird about Eddie and Shannon in general - right off the bat. When Shannon shows up at the station and she and Eddie talk, Buck’s in the background and overhears that they’re sleeping together. He clearly struggles with this information, (and Chim possibly notices..) then he get’s real petty about them potentially getting married again (”Maybe you can get a discount”) - and he nopes out of the situation as quickly as he can - because he doesn’t want to risk saying anything snarky.

Then Chim and Buck go christmas tree shopping, and Chim comments on how Buck can’t let Eddie’s situation with Shannon go, and it’s true, he can’t stop himself. But when Eddie asks him for advice in front of the fountain (/metaphorical water penis as I like to call it), he’s suddenly all “I didn’t think it was my business” ... ok, sure, Buck. Then he basically tells Eddie to try and make it work with Shannon. In terms of character development, in a romance, this is the part where person A wants to be with person B but doesn’t think they have a chance, so makes the choice to try and settle for being their friend, which, heartbreakingly, involves pushing them into the arms of someone else.

Also, his kind of “oversharing” of Eddie’s situation with Ana to the rest of the team is, to me, a pretty clear indicator that the topic makes him uncomfortable and he’s trying a Ross Geller-I’m making Fajitas- “let’s show everyone how very completely normal I feel about this” approach, which.. it doesn’t.. work that well. And when does this ever work, it’s super easy to see through this, and it usually just serves to draw more attention to the fact that you’re uncomfortable with whatever is being discussed.

Buck also takes everything Eddie says to heart. Like, fucking takes it and will not let go of it. Half a season after Eddie tells him that he makes everything about himself, he breaks down telling Maddie he’s worried he’s making the situation with the old firefighter about himself again. During the kitchen scene (or “The actual how-to-guide of what to do when you thought the guy you have a crush on doesn’t reciprocate but then you have a fight and he really doesn’t handle being away from you so well so you kind of might as well see where being a little more openly flirty will get you”), Buck’s clearly thought about Eddie’s words from the grocery store fight, and he’s gonna call Eddie out. And maybe do other stuff.

Looking at what the writers are actually doing, to end the season, there’s the clawing at dirt of it all, Buck falling apart when Eddie’s buried alive. Buck being in almost all of Eddie’s memories when he’s close to dying. And Maddie’s comment about not wanting to set Josh up with Buck, which is innocent enough, but why throw that in on top of all of the above, if not because maybe what we’re actually looking at is that they’re setting up a sexuality crisis for Buck, and him realizing he’s maybe into Eddie, but Eddie not actually reciprocating (yet)? And say Buck is then somehow forcefully pushed to see the truth about how he feels, maybe by, i don’t know, coming across TK and/or Carlos on a call, and one of them asking him how long him and Eddie have been together? We might get Eddie with Ana, and a very long, drawn out process of Buck realizing what’s happening and trying to leave them alone, and Eddie being really confused about why Buck’s being like that. Then we would have two options (well, more, really, but these are two I like): 1) Eddie pushing Buck on that point and demanding an explanation and Buck just coming out with it because fuck it and sorry and please let me see Chris still 2) Buck’s sexuality crisis (or not crisis, if he’s always been pan/bi, which, look, nothing I’ve seen has disproven this theory) leading to him dating a guy and Eddie getting really jealous but not actually being aware of the fact what he feels is jealousy (because he doesn’t realize how he feels about Buck, see this whole essay you just read), and Buck being the one who confronts Eddie about why he’s being such a homophobic asshole about this, and Eddie straight up kissing him because he can’t not anymore.

[neonponders]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me @lazybakerart 💗💋

I’ve got two big writing projects on my plate this week lol but one thing I’m kind of indulging is a break-up/getting back together fic that I actually started in this post, but I’ll share what I have so far underneath the cut ~

(and excuse me while I overshare, because I’m still stupidly proud of this The Mummy_au post that I made if anyone wants a taste of that)

Tagging (if you want) ✨ @ghostofjellyfishforgotten , ✨ @smashmouth-hargrove , and ✨ @withoneheadlight 

(also just a heads up for the wip below: it’s once again me exploring my own asexuality through Steve, but I don’t know how far I’m going to go into it. Still, that might be a content warning people may need if they’re sex-repulsed 🌹)

Ch. 1

Sex with Billy was fine. Good, even.

When they finally moved past every look and touch being a threat veiled in a tease, Steve enjoyed looking at Billy. He enjoyed looking at Billy and discovering those California eyes already on him. He liked Billy’s hands. The man had beautiful hands; strong, thick fingers but...somehow elegant.

He liked Billy’s body, even though he sometimes worried that the guy seemed determined to break it ten different ways. Cigarettes, alcohol, excessive working out, and sometimes all at the same time.

Sex didn’t always mean Steve got to cum. Usually he didn’t, actually. But he enjoyed Billy’s kisses on his neck, and the taste of his tongue, and - admittedly - he loved just having all of Billy’s attention enraptured on him. Steve didn’t mind taking his dick inside because once he got used to it, that felt surprisingly good. When he managed the pleasurable sparks and sensational tingles that mounted into something explosive, he understood why sex was great. But for the more frequent, calm nights, he’d come to think of it as a weird yet pleasant massage.

So he took it. Because it was easier on his hands and knees, for one, and because Billy had a control complex. And Steve could hide his lack of enthusiasm.

Not to say that Billy was selfish or careless. Far from it, Billy Hargrove was an incredibly doting lover. Big surprise, there. Considering how the guy

Well

Existed.

Steve couldn’t really blame Billy for never noticing that he could go a long time without sex. Because Steve liked resting his hand on Billy’s chest while they watched a show or movie. It didn’t matter how much bare skin he had access to. In fact, the more coverage, the better. A clothed body is better to cuddle with than skin that can get sticky or irritated.

Steve liked kissing. He’d always liked kissing. Kissing was the reason he’d assumed he was like everyone else: the desire to kiss, crushes and girlfriends, masturbating, even the giddiness of sex with someone new.

But something fizzled out very quickly in Steve’s brain. Once hands and intent started moving beneath clothing, Steve just...didn’t want it. Suddenly a lot of things popped into his brain that he’d rather be doing. But he persevered because he loved Nancy, and her blooming sexual prowess and bravery was sexy.

Fun.

Billy was a whole big bag of new with an edge of scary that turned out to be more endearing than Steve thought possible. So it was easy to go like that for a while.

Normal.

Eventually he had to admit to himself that he didn’t like taking showers at 1am because he didn’t enjoy being covered in his own, and Billy’s, sweat. He didn’t like feeling the drips on his skin or the tackiness of too many skin oils on his hands.

He hated admitting to himself that he felt relief whenever Billy went out of town for work. He missed Billy, of course, but a lot of things had begun to snowball together in Steve’s life: changing jobs, managing bank accounts and savings, and there were a lot of truths Steve was facing outside of his relationship.

He was tired. Damn tired. He spent many days off wondering if people in their twenties feel this tired all the time or if it was just him. It must just be him. Because Steve sees Robin just as much as he doesn’t. She’s got goals.

And Billy

Billy has big dreams. He’s ready to work damn hard and already is. That’s why he uses his hefty gas money funds, to travel around. Scout the areas. Steve even drove him to the airport once, so Billy could really gain some distance over the weekend. Expand his network.

As if the universe knew, some bigwig passing through Hawkins on their way to Chicago ran right into Billy. A bigwig looking for a handsome, charismatic, young guy to mentor. It really couldn’t be more perfect than divine intervention. They’re Billy’s inlet to the business. Modeling, acting, freaking UNICEF ambassadorial work if he wants to feel extra important. If he gets big enough to have his face mean something around the world.

Within one conversation, he’s got a business card, and an appointment in a Chicago skyscraper next week to take measurements and do a rudimentary photo shoot. The manager warns him that it’s the agency getting to know him, but like any job interview, it’s his chance to interview them right back. Billy likes that a lot—feeling like he has a stake in something instead of just being a corporate pawn. And maybe he eats right out of the manager’s hand, but it’s still a shot. And he’s taking it.

He immediately goes to Steve’s work, fired up from seeing a future for the first time like he finally got the right prescription glasses. The only caveat is that Billy has to move out of Hawkins, which isn’t even a flaw, really. It’s as close to perfect as life’s ever been for him.

Steve can only listen quietly as he sits at the table in the break room. Because Billy’s got big dreams that are already coming true. Every detail of his enflamed speech is given over pacing feet; he can’t even bother to sit at the table. Billy’s got so much energy he’s already mentally and emotionally out the door.

Steve…isn’t. His mental health has been on a downward slope since before they graduated, and it won’t allow him to reach anywhere. He doesn’t have any dreams to steer him in any direction anyways.

Billy’s rant begins to wind down about what he wants to do; his fire about his dreams and his motivation simmers down to an even boil. Steve’s impressed and already proud of the person Billy will become, but Steve can also hear Billy’s frustration with him and their relationship.

For not keeping up.

Steve’s…kind of never been able to keep up. In bed or in life.

And perhaps the saddest part is that Steve doesn’t even have it in him to fight for it. For them. He doesn’t feel worthy enough to hold Billy back. So he doesn’t.

Billy snaps a little, “Why aren’t you saying anything? I’ve been talking about this for the last two years! Steve?”

He’d gotten distracted by looking at his backpack hanging on the wall. Steve’s throat hurt. Two years? God, it’s really been two years already…

He pinched his fingertips over the table as he began, “Billy, I support you. I know you can get there—wherever it is you want to be. I’m not going to tell you to stop or slow down. You’re going somewhere. But I’m…”

He took a breath to finally say it. “Not. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t think I have the energy to figure it out any time soon. You should go.”

Steve can see the disappointment sinking through Billy’s features. And the anger that he’s so used to throwing up as a shield. Billy has so much energy coursing through him as it is, Steve can’t blame him for swinging right into the direction of livid.

The real surprise comes from how soft he speaks. No yelling. No hitting the table. No wrenching Steve up by his green uniform vest. They were long past those outbursts. Which…really just confirmed Steve’s decision. Billy had come a long way. He could go so much further.

“That’s what you have to say? Just like that…you’re really giving up on us?”

Steve knows he’s gaping like a stupid fish. But it isn’t just like that, is it? Billy’s been revving his engines to get the hell out of Hawkins ever since he got here in the first place. Steve tries to say as much, but Billy cuts him off.

“I thought you’d be excited for this. You should be hauling me out of here to pack my bags.”

Steve tries to offer a small smile, but his voice betrays him. “I thought I kind of am? I didn’t take you for the long distance type.”

It’s not the response Billy wants. That should make Steve feel better than it does; the blatant display that Billy wants more of Steve. His excitement, his attention, maybe his companionship…

Steve doesn’t know what he wants—or rather, he does. That’s the issue. Billy’s wants and Billy’s problems can all be resolved by leaving one critical piece behind.

Steve.

Some more things are said, but Steve doesn’t do well on the spot. Especially when the limelight is Billy. Steve fails the tests and he fails the interview. Billy storms out, leaving Steve at the table, pinching his fingertips white before he unconsciously glances at his backpack again.

The backpack full of apartment lease papers. The papers Steve’s already signed because even with his insecurities, the mornings he woke up to discover Billy spooning him after having returned in the middle of the night were his best days. Because Billy’s silly insistence on hand poured coffee was his favorite drink. Because Billy was funny and weird like an artist and loony like a nerd with his video games, and Steve knew—or at least hoped that—Billy loved him the day he started holding his hand while driving that stupid, loud, beloved Camaro—

Because Steve’s heart was a magnet. It stayed where it landed and tugged back even when pulled away.

All he’d needed was Billy’s autograph to be given the keys. Keys to the rest of their lives, if Billy wasn’t already so far away.

Ch. 2

Robin gripped Steve’s arm, hard. A gargled sound escaped him as he grimaced and tried to pry her hand off. Her other hand pointed at one of the catalogues on the store’s many counters. When he invited her with him to pick out glasses, he hadn’t expected to walk out of the freaking optometrist’s office with bruises…

Nor had he thought he’d see a familiar face in the catalogue. Plenty of models were looking editorial chic, advertising that anyone could look as good in whatever glasses they chose.

Except Billy really did look good. The picture was just a vague image outside, the camera focused on Billy’s three-quarter profile gazing off past the photographer.

“I didn’t expect him to actually be working this fast,” Robin admitted. “It’s been…what? Seven months, give or take? I thought casting calls for models were competitive.”

“Not if you look like Billy,” Steve huffed with a quiet mixture of humor, sadness, and just a sprinkle of spite. A sprinkle of jealousy, if he was being honest with himself. The self-help book tucked under the covers of his bed talked about honesty. So he admitted honestly, “He looks that good and knows how to stand out in a room…good for him.”

He could see in his periphery Robin looking up and scrutinizing him. “Really?”

Steve shrugged with a nod. “Yeah. What’s the other option? Him struggling for work?”

Robin sighed and plucked a display set of glasses at random to try on and occupy herself. “That’s big of you, but everyone wants something cathartic. It’s annoyingly impressive that he landed the front cover of a magazine in less than a year.”

Steve opened the catalogue to give them both a reprieve. “You wanna get food after this? Take your mind off the audition?”

For all the good being a band geek did, Robin had experienced her own humbling experiences over the last few months. Like failed auditions to be in city orchestras. She and Steve were feeling very stuck in Kansas while Billy gallivanted around Oz.

• • • • • • •

The plot gets messy because years will actually go by, and Steve and Robin get married so that they can share insurance benefits (and be safe in their bi/lesbian open relationship, buy a house together, etc. It’s the life/happiness security Steve wants but obviously there aren’t any romantic feelings).

Of course this is when Billy happens to reenter Steve’s life. He’s got some hot-shot model he’s been seeing, and apparently Steve is married so there’s the added dash and twist of ~ cheating ~

I’ve been in some kind of mood, all right.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading lol.

[decadatian-boy]

Trying to clear out the rest of the 2021 pics before the new year is here. I’ll probably not reach that goal but it’s what I’m aiming at.

It’s weird to navigate when I get to images that are an alter that I am not. Do I give them their own accounts? I’ve already done so for @babydoll-decadatia (who is currently fronting and typing these words). It seems a level of faking something to be releasing their content when they’re not here but in the meantime my phone is beyond stuffed full the longer I am frozen with indecision. So short answer is here he is. Dunno know if he was Hunter or William at the moment because it’s so old my hair was still neon green. It gets murky. I’m still sorting everything and every one out. Part of what’s freezing me is the line of demarcation between the boys and whether there is one at all or they’ve merged or become someone else. I don’t feel like I know him well. And I don’t want to talk about my personal shit online here or to anyone but how in the world do you caption photos of your alters without saying “this is my as of now unnamed male alter” or lying like it just fancy dress up? In this scenario I have either overshared (bad) or lied to appear normal which gets more abhorrent to me the older I get. I tried passing as normal, it didn’t win me the things I thought it would. Everyone assumes I’m weird anyway. I don’t have the energy or honestly the motivation to hide it. What do I get if I pass for normal? It just puts me in a box where I am a source to vent to about your very real problems while I must either lie and tell you about all the fake normal things I thing neurotypicals do in a day, share nothing about the real me and grow angry and resentful that I don’t have any actual connections except for two humans and a ton of beloved pets. If I’m going to be loved it will be for me, not the fake normal mask I have worn for so long. Ugh this whole thing feels gross and in direct violation of my own boundaries but at the end of the day my main point is that my phone is full and I need to clear it out and my mental illness is making this task far more complicated and time consuming than it needs to be.

I hope he’s a new boy when he’s done solidifying or at the very least that he’s not a return of two particular male alters I’d be happy to never see again. I guess I’ll throw him into this account temporarily. Seems stupid to create social media accounts for him when he’s still so nebulous.

[honeypiehotchner]

Lost in a Crowd -- part thirteen

Hi again! This one is another written part :))

Bucky is waiting outside the library, as promised. He’s standing on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, a long sleeve shirt covering his arms. I shove my disappointment at not being able to see his metal arm into the deep corners of my mind.

He sees me and smiles wide. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I exhale, gripping the strap on my bag. “Sorry for making you walk all the way over here, it’s just…” I shake my head, letting the words die out.

“I don’t mind,” he says first, which catches my attention. “But what is it?”

I look up into his eyes -- blue eyes like a stormy sea, the unwritten poem nags me -- and sigh. How is it that someone I hardly know can be so nice to me and so gentle and understanding? How is it that that’s even possible anymore?

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly. “My ex has been lingering around lately. It’s probably nothing. I just feel like I’ve seen him a lot more than usual and it’s been creeping me out.” As if on cue, I shiver from head to toe. “Like I said, it’s probably nothing. It’s probably just because I didn’t see him all summer, so now whenever I see him it feels like it’s too much.” I pause, my gaze traveling back to Bucky’s eyes. They’re sad. “I overshare, too. Speaking of things that are happening too much.”

“I’m sorry,” he offers, his arms lifting slightly, but both hands remain in his pockets. “I’ve never had the issue of running into exes since all mine are probably dead.”

I chuckle at the thought, even though nothing about it is even remotely humorous. “Yeah.”

“But I’m sorry you’re seeing him around a lot,” Bucky continues. “I’m always here to walk you home, though. Or wherever.”

I smile gratefully. “Thank you. But I’d never ask you to do that.”

“Lucky for you, you’re not asking,” he teases. “But I know, just...if you ever need me. I’m here.”

“Thanks,” I murmur, my voice quiet out of shock. Bucky’s tone, it’s so...genuinely soft. He means every word, I can tell just by his face. I just never thought he’d be saying those words to me.

“We should probably start walking,” Bucky breaks through my thoughts as usual. “Before they start getting suspicious.”

I roll my eyes, a laugh bubbling out of my chest. “They’re already suspicious. And I could use some coffee. You?”

He shrugs again, nodding his head. “Lead the way.”

I begin walking toward the Tower because I know for a fact we’ll pass a few places on the way there. Bucky keeps the same pace as I do, walking next to me with his hands tucked away. I let my arm swing free, until I accidentally smack him with it, and then I keep it close to my torso. Neither of us mention me smacking him, but I see him smirking.

Annoyingly attractive ass. Maybe that’ll be his code name. Triple A.

I chuckle at the idea. My friends and I in high school used to have code names for the boys we liked. Bringing that trend back around all these years later might not be a bad idea.

“Ah, here we go,” I duck inside the first coffee shop we come across. Bucky follows behind me, holding the door open for a woman who is exiting with a tray of four coffees. The sight makes me smile.

Bucky stands close to me in line and I’m more than aware of everyone looking at us. I make no move to mention it, though. I’m sure he’s also noticed, so speaking of it won’t help anything.

“Should I get triple espresso instead of double?” I ask, mostly talking to myself.

But Bucky’s eyes go wide. “Are you sure you need that much caffeine?”

“Oh wow,” I roll my eyes. “Don’t lecture me about my caffeine intake, please.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies easily, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

As I’m tearing my eyes away from his lips I hear the door to the shop opening, and because the universe decided today is just my lucky day, my ex boyfriend walks in.

“Dear God,” I mutter, looking away quickly and praying that the fact that I have a superhero standing next to me will knock enough common sense into my ex to not come talk to me.

“What?” Bucky asks, concern lacing his words. “What’s wrong?”

The line moves up, but not fast enough, because there are still three people in front of us, which gives fuckhead here the perfect window to speak.

“Lilith, is that you?”

I’d like to die. Right now.

Bucky’s head turns along with mine to meet the voice that just spoke. “Hi,” I say shortly, hoping to scare him away.

“Who are you?” Oh, great, now Bucky’s joining in.

“I’m Tyler,” my ex says, sticking his hand out. “And you are?” He says it as if he still has the authority to dictate who I hang out with and speak to. Asshole.

Bucky shakes Tyler’s hand with his metal one, and it’s no doubt on purpose. “Bucky,” he says. “Barnes.”

“The Winter Soldier,” Tyler exclaims, probably a little too loudly. “Goddamn.”

“Just Bucky will do,” Bucky says firmly.

The line moves again and we move with it. Bucky discreetly moves to put himself at an angle, so his body is between me and Tyler. I’m not sure if he even notices it, but the action alone makes my heart warm.

“You didn’t tell me you knew the Avengers,” Tyler laughs in disbelief, his head shaking as he stares at Bucky beside me. “What a small world.”

“Small world?” I scoff. “Last I heard, you thought the world was so big and I was the one holding you back and making it seem small.”

“Come on, Lilith,” Tyler says. “I made an honest mistake.”

The line moves again. “An honest mistake?” I nearly laugh. “By cheating on me twice? With different women? I think the biggest mistake was me ever forgiving you.”

Bucky keeps his body between us and I’d give anything to bury myself in his chest right now and to have Tyler disappear into thin air.

“Come on, I said I was sorry.”

“And I said I never wanted to speak to you again,” I remind him hotly. “Please respect that.”

“Lilith--”

“She said she never wants to speak to you again,” Bucky interrupts Tyler at lightning speed. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk out of here right now.”

Tyler flounders for a moment, but after Bucky takes one step toward him, he’s backing away. He’s out of the shop and down the sidewalk by the time it’s our turn to order.

“Hey,” I smile at the cashier, desperate for some sense of normalcy. “Can I get a medium latte?”

She nods, typing it in. “What else?” She looks to Bucky.

“Uh, a black coffee, medium. Please.”

I move to dig my wallet out of my bag, but Bucky swipes his damn card before I can even register what’s happening.

“It’ll be ready in a sec,” the cashier smiles.

“Thanks…” I step to the side, waiting for Bucky to join me before I say, “You didn’t have to pay for me.”

“Consider it a comfort gift for the bullshit you just had to endure.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Thanks. I can’t believe he was stupid enough to do that.”

“He still loves you,” Bucky says quietly.

“Yeah, well, tough shit,” I reply with a shrug. “He shouldn’t have cheated on me twice, then. And I never should’ve forgiven him for the first one, anyway.”

“With different women?” Bucky questions.

“Mhm,” I nod. “The second was my roommate.”

Bucky is quiet. “Jesus.”

“Yep,” I say. “It’s why I live alone now.”

The barista slides our drinks across the counter with a smile. Bucky gets to them first, handing my latte to me with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” I return the expression. “For both things,” I add quietly when we’re outside. “For the coffee and dealing with my ex.”

“Nothing you need to thank me for,” he shrugs. “I’m sorry I kind of had to threaten him. I didn’t want it to come to that, but man he wasn’t backing down.”

Are you kidding? It was hot. But I don’t say that. “Yeah. Yeah, he always had this stupid complex that he could get what he wanted when he wanted it. He used to tell me I couldn’t hang out with friends because we were going to have a ‘romantic night out,’” I use air quotes and laugh. “But he always canceled -- and then he’d get mad at me for it. I swear.”

Bucky shakes his head. “He sounds like a fucking nightmare.”

“Nightmare doesn’t cover it, honestly,” I reply. I take a sip of my latte, the caffeine rushing straight through me. “Alright, I just told you about my disaster of a love life. How’s yours?”

“Mine?” Bucky says through a laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I am?” I raise an eyebrow. “Come on, we’ve got a few minutes, more if we walk slow. Spill.”

Bucky slows his pace without hesitation. I follow suit, muffling my smile with another sip of my coffee.

“Alright, well, every woman I went out with in the 40s is dead now or so old they probably don’t remember, and every woman from this era seems to go running in the other direction, so…” He pauses, looking over at me, his eyes glinting with humor. “I think mine’s also a disaster.”

“I don’t know...They didn’t look like they were running away to me…”

His eyebrows furrow. “When?”

“In the coffee shop,” I explain. “In fact, I think they all looked like they wanted to kill me so they could have you for themselves.”

“What--” Bucky shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“I’m serious!”

“Okay, well, even if they were, I wouldn’t let them touch you,” he replies gently, but there’s a great deal of seriousness in his words. “You know you’re the first woman I’ve gotten coffee with since the 40s.”

“Did you still drink that cup of the bitter void in the 40s?” I tease.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did,” he chuckles, taking a pointed sip of his coffee. “Have you always liked espresso this much? You might as well get an IV at this point.”

“You know, I’ve thought about it,” I say seriously. “But no, my coffee addiction started when I started college. A writer never sleeps.”

Bucky tilts his head, pointing at me with his cup. “I’m not sure that’s healthy.”

Something about his adorable expression and stupid grandpa humor has me speechless and without a witty comeback. My only response is to shove his shoulder, which causes him to grin like a madman.

This time when my arm smacks his, he catches it, hooking mine through his.

And nothing has ever felt more right.

[itzagothamcitysiren]

Welcome to the Family

here’s the final part for my mother’s day special :) I hope you all had a good day and enjoyed this. 

Mother’s Day pt. 3          

 “So how is it?”

           Damian lifted his head, after taking another bite of his burger, chewing before answering his sister with a curt nod. The burger was delicious, greasy, and unimaginably unhealthy; their mother would slit their throats if she saw what they were eating. Outstretched before them was a spread of milkshakes, fries, chicken tenders and each their own oversized burger. Damian had never been to Bat-Burger, and was hesitant but his sister insisted it was good and she, Dick and Tim found the whole gimmick ironic and hilarious; they often frequented the food chain ordering each meal named after themselves.

           “The milkshakes are surprisingly the best around.” She continued, sipping the milkshake named after herself, trying to find something to get him to talk to her. Ever since they left her office he maybe only spoke a handful of words, agreeing to go get food, ordering his food and muttering a thanks when she paid.

           “Even the Night-wings are really good, it gets to Dick’s ego.” She pressed, chuckling. Frowning for a split second, she quickly covered it with a smile. But Damian caught it though, and took another bite of his burger to hide his guilt as she continued to talk. “So what’s new with you?”

           “Nothing.” He shrugged. It was the truth, he didn’t do much besides patrol and she knew that. He didn’t have hobbies besides reading and training. Damian wasn’t in school; he was ‘home schooled’ after trying for a year and it just not working. Bruce thought getting Jason through Gotham Academy was rough but according to Damian he was above prep school.

           He stopped eating his burger when he felt a sudden shift in his sister. Even she was thrown off by it. Maybe it was from lack of sleep or the hunger from not eating since dinner last night, if you could consider a bag of chips dinner. Maybe Bat-Burger wasn’t the best choice to start with. But she thought-, she hoped this place would let Damian loosen up. Even Bruce managed to crack a small smile when entering this place. Shaking her head she pushed her burger away from her, placing her head in her hands, frustrated. Damian slowly put his food down as well, letting his hands fall to his sides, anxiously clenching them into fists. She was gonna give up on him, he knew it. Coming here was a mistake.

           “Sister-,”

           “Halley.” She corrected, looking up from her hands. “My name is Halley. Yes I am your sister, but you don’t have to be so formal about it all the time.” She snapped, instantly regretting it. She promised to herself long ago to never lose her cool with Damian, but he was just so frustrating. “Why did you come to my office today Damian? It crossed my mind that you might’ve been jealous earlier about me making plans with Tim and not inviting you but whenever I do invite you places you just scoff at me. And I just didn’t see you being the jealous type, but then again I don’t really know you. Then you showed up today and I thought you actually wanted to, I don’t know? Do something together? But I feel like I’m the only one wanting to be here.”

           “Tt.” Damian crossed his arms, huffing. “I am not jealous of Drake.”

           “Tt.” Halley matched his stance, crossing her arms against her own chest and leaned back into her seat. “Okay if you’re not jealous of him, then why are we here?”

           Damian was speechless for a moment. Normally, this conversation would play out differently. Normally, after insulting Tim, Halley would then shoot into reasons why Damian should give Tim a chance, and that he was actually really nice. She’d never call him out like that, always not wanting to push him away or giving him a chance to get angry at the conversation and leave. It took Damian a few seconds longer than he’d like to admit to think of a retort.

           “I figured since you have these outings with everyone and they praise them, I should finally figure out what all the fuss is about. And so far I’m not impressed.” He snapped right back, showing the same sass that ran on their shared side of the family.

           Raising her own eyebrow, Halley snorted, reaching for her shake and taking a long sip before putting it back down and pointing a finger at her little brother. “Of course you’re not impressed. When me and the guys hang out we actually have conversations. Dick’s my best friend, we actually want to know what’s going on in each other’s lives; we shoot the shit, whatever you wanna call it. And Tim, Tim tries; he’s always reaching out and making sure I’m not overworking and taking care of myself and I do the same for him. We care about each other.” Halley took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose.

           “With you,” she continues trying to soften her voice, not realizing she sounded as if she was in work mode and could see Damian trying to hide his nervousness. “With you, it’s like I’m talking to a wall, a very thick wall. I’ve tried since day one Damian; I’ve tried to build a relationship with you but I don’t know what else to do. I’ve stuck up for you when everyone else didn’t and I’ve vouched for you. I was there when Bruce went missing, and I believed you with all that Talon nonsense, and I just get nothing in return besides insults. I don’t want much, I’m your sister and I’m just tired of trying if you really don’t care.”

           Damian bit his lip, unpacking every word that his sister spoke. He knew her frustrations. His father and Grayson had the same, as he was constantly reminding himself of. He just wasn’t sure how to open up to her. He wasn’t even sure how she opened up when she moved into the manor. He wanted to ask her but he was just so afraid to open his mouth and talk to her for unknown reasons.  He looked at her sad eyes as she spoke, feeling guilt from the years blocking her out finally being too much to keep in. Damian didn’t know how he would start but he licked his lips, finally figuring it was now or never to start trying back.

           “How did you adjust so well? It’s been two years and I-,” Damian paused already embarrassed for oversharing.

           Halley softened her stance. That was the most serious but personal question Damian had ever asked her. She smiled before opening her mouth to answer him. “I had people who cared. Like you do, even if you don’t see it.”

           She’s been thirteen, Damian’s age now when Dick saved her from her father. It wasn’t until Damian came along and she had to face her father again for the first time in years did Slade reveal that she was also part al Ghul. She learned what would’ve been her life if it wasn’t for Dick. At the time Slade had been part of the League of Assassins, and was one of Ra’s al Ghul right hands. The plan at the time was for Slade and Talia to give him a new heir, with the pair bringing Halley into the world. When she could walk and talk it was agreed that Slade would take her into the world to train; at the time thinking that field training would be the most officiant. When Slade thought she was ready, she’d be brought back to the League, but that was ruined when she escaped and joined the batfamily. She was his ticket in taking over the League, and he hadn’t taken her ruining it for him easily.

           “Dick took me in after saving me from Slade. He’d beat the shit out of me if I just sneezed wrong. He was an abusive fuck, but I was used to it. He drilled into my brain that I wasn’t good enough and I deserved the things he did to me. They would make me stronger. He made me just like you, untrusting and closed off. But Dick and the Titans eventually taught me that not everyone is an asshole. And when Bruce let me move to the manor and take his last name and gave me a home and a good life, I was-, well I just put my trust into them and I’m glad I did.” Halley shrugged, images of her time with Slade flashing through her eyes like a bad movie. Clearing her throat again, blinking away the tears that were forming, she looked back at the boy looking up at her with a soft expression.

           “And Jay, helped me a lot. He helped me adjust to things. He- he was great.” She looked down at her food, letting a finger brush a stray tear away. Cursing, for showing weakness in front of her little brother who already judged her every move, she coughed, straitening herself out.

           “I don’t want you to be like Dick or Tim, or Jason.” She continued, knowing he’d have nothing to say from where she left off. “I just want you to be Damian and I want us to have a relationship that makes you comfortable and makes you feel safe. So if going to stupid burger joints isn’t your thing, that’s fine. We can go to a fine dining restaurant if you want for all I care. And you don’t have to feel like you have to get me mothers day’s presents, that’s not your thing. I totally understand and don’t expect it to be.” She waved off, moving back to bite into her burger, trying to defuse the tension some more.

           Damian still kept his straight face. He knew the basics about his sister but not all details. He knew she was Slade’s apprentice, but he just figured she was a traitor and chose to leave. Her joining his father was what made Slade lose his good graces with his grandfather. It was the whole reason why Slade attacked the League of Assassin’s base years later, killing Ra’s al Ghul and leading Damian to meeting his father. He gulped, letting his face fall a little, in comfort.

           “I don’t mind this place.” He nodded, going back to bite into his burger as well, while also grabbing another Night-wing, wishing the chicken tender was called something else. “And-and, I wouldn’t even know what to get you or what kind of card to make. Though I did tell Drake your favorite color was purple. Tt, imbecile was going to make the letters red.”

           “You remembered my favorite color?” Halley awed at him, causing him to pout, embarrassed. “You just remembering my favorite color makes me happy enough.”

           “That’s silly,” He squinted at her. Grayson turned her into such a sap.

           “Yeah, well I think it’s cute.” She huffed, moving back to her milkshake. She looked up at him as she sipped, “So after this, what does Damian Wayne want to do today? I assume movies and arcade are boring to you.”

           “You assume correct.” He nodded in agreement. He took a second to ponder her question, not quite ready to go home after this. He didn’t really know at first, until one specific place popped up in his head. He’d yet to visit one, but had read about them and was curious, you could say. He was too afraid to ask his father and not ready for Grayson’s reaction; there was no one better than Halley to ask to take him. With a stern face he looked up at her, “I would like to go to the zoo.”

           “The zoo?” Halley questioned. She mentally slapped herself when she saw him begin to crawl into himself again, she outreached a hand to him, “No, no, no! I just didn’t think you’d want to. I love the zoo; I used to beg Jay to go with me all the time, but he thought they were boring and smelly,” She chuckled fondly at the memory. “But the Gotham Zoo is surprisingly nice.” She said looking down at her phone for the time. “We have time if we finish this on our way there, they don’t close for another four hours or so.” Halley said, now excitedly packing up the trash and figuring out what was good enough to eat during the walk over to the zoo.

           Damian felt that same pang in his chest from earlier but this time it didn’t make him nervous. Instead he felt content, happy even? He didn’t feel as if this whole idea was a disaster and for once actually felt a touch of excitement. Gathering his belongings he then proceeded to ask questions about what kind of animals they have at a zoo, and other things, like can you pet them, etc. Halley eagerly answered all of them, asking her own like what his favorite animal was and stuff like that.

           The rest of the afternoon went by way to quick and soon Halley was in a cab making sure Damian got home okay, even with him reassuring her if he could get to her office without her he could get home. She simply waved him off, and gave him a playful shove as the cab pulled up to the manor. Her smile almost hurt when he turned to her as he stood out of the cab and said that he hoped they could do this again sometime.

           Within the next hour, she found herself stomping up her apartment, not in anger but in pure delight. She couldn’t believe today actually happened. After two years she actually made progress with Damian. Opening the door to her apartment, she dropped her bag and plopped the keys onto the kitchen counter, she could have even sworn she saw him smile at least one today.

           She walked into her kitchen, grabbing a water bottle, closing the fridge and looking at the pictures she had hanging on her fridge. Taking a second she leaned against the counter, taking them all in. This year’s mother’s day card from Tim hung near a picture of the two of them from his second birthday at the Manor, it’s been his sixteenth. She’d taken him to an arcade and the pair had spent all day building up their tickets so Tim could get some replica sword. She smirked at the picture where instead of the sword, he decided on getting her a giant stuff pug as a thank you for spending all day with him. In it she held onto it tightly, the thing was so fluffy and cute as Tim smiled into the camera widely. She still had the thing on her bed, she chuckled.

           Next to that one was a picture of her and Dick, from her own sixteenth birthday where he insisted on throwing her a giant pool party, inviting all of the Titans and batfamily. He stood hosting her up on his shoulders, as if she was a prize. It was only moments after the phot was taken did he throw her into the pool, only for her to furiously chase him for revenge. Alfred had taken another photo from that stood next to it of her getting said revenge by smashing a piece of cake in Dick’s face, Bruce seen in the background with a disapproving look.

           Along with those she let her eyes fall to last set of photos on the fridge, feeling the water works already starting. The anniversary of Jason’s death hit her harder this year. Every year it’d been hard, but the pressure of graduating, keeping up with her nightly activities and the nightmare that was her mother kidnapping and brainwashing Bruce, the day just crept up on her and she didn’t have time to prepare herself.  

           Sighing as she looked at the first photo they took together, she just let the tears fall, knowing she’d only feel worse keeping them in.  They’d snuck out on their first date, having kept their relationship a secret, afraid Bruce wouldn’t allow it because they lived right across the hall from each other. It wasn’t until Jason died did Bruce tell he knew from the beginning. She chuckled at the photo, taking it off the fridge too look at it closely.

           It was just a simple movie date but she remembered being so nervous the entire time. She felt her heart nearly beat out of her chest when he made the first move and clumsily placed his arm around her shoulders twenty minutes into the movie. It took another twenty minutes until she found the courage to lean her head on his shoulder. She’d blushed the brightest when the movie ended and he grabbed her hand and held it as they walked out. He called her a dork, seeing her blush, causing her to blush harder.  He’d snapped the photo shortly after, saying she looked cute when she was frazzled. She defiantly looked frazzled in the photo while he sneaked a kiss on her cheek.

           The second photo of the pair had been of the pair a couple of weeks before he had died. They were just about to graduate High School, and where going to prom together. Bruce insisted they should go, so they told Bruce they were going together because everyone else was lame. She’d actually had fun for the short amount of time that they actually stood at the prom. They quickly snuck out, taking Jason’s car to go get Chinese take-out and parking off somewhere and stuffing their faces.

           Clipping the photo back onto the fridge she sighed again, picking up her phone to look at the picture’s she snuck of Damian today. She held a hand to her lips as she looked them over. She couldn’t get any of the pair together without him seeing her but it was okay. She got him in the petting zoo, a blank face, but you could see that he was content as he pet a goat, and then a llama. She laughed thinking about how enthralled he was by the farm animals. He found the more exotic animals interesting but for whatever reason the farm animals really caught his interest.

           She looked at the top of her phone, seeing a notification from Tim. Clicking on it, she noted how she had to get those pictures printed so she could put them in place with the others. Now reading the text from her brother, she could stop the snort that escaped her nose. Oh Damian,

“Why is Damian demanding Bruce get him a pet cow?”

[indiavolojones]

anon it’s like you’re LOOKING at my diary ヽ(｀Д´)ﾉ

2.5kish, gen, dia/luci.

“Before you do anything stupid that involves my permanent work on your body," the distaste radiating off of Lucifer is palpable, "Try an ear piercing first. It's plenty shocking to you business types, and a helluva lot less painful.”

“So, what do you say, Lucifer?"

SPECIAL THANKS TO @canonlucidia​ FOR BEING THE LUCIFER TRANSLATOR WE ALL NEED TO ELEVATE OUR FICS

~

“Huh,” Diavolo tilts his head, “I would have never guessed you were over eighteen.” 

Lucifer's ID shows none of the telltale signs of forgery, nor does the man look like a teenager. Diavolo just likes to have fun with people that seem too serious for their own good. 

Besides, it would be impossible for Diavolo to misjudge the man in front of him as a child—there are no children with eyes as hard-edged as Lucifer’s. Lucifer’s drenched coat is slung over his arm, the layers beneath thankfully still dry.  His long hair is twisted up in a messy, haphazard bun—something about this man makes Diavolo think this is unusual. 

Probably the impeccably tailored, expensive-looking vest and suit jacket. The watch peeking out from underneath his shirt sleeve is worth at least a couple hundred dollars, if Diavolo’s instincts are right. Minutes within meeting Lucifer and he already knows that this is a man that takes an incredible amount of pride into his appearance. 

Lucifer narrows his eyes, but the effect is less than intimidating to Diavolo, who has faced far worse than severe looks. Besides, the dark, exaggerated bags under his eyes can’t lie. The proud jut of his chin and squaring of his shoulders be damned; Diavolo can sense his bluff a mile away. Lucifer is more likely to pass out from exhaustion than start a brawl. 

“What an interesting business model, insulting your potential clients like this.” Lucifer retorts, and Diavolo thinks he’s probably terrifying when he’s had at least eight hours of sleep.

“There are plenty of other tattoo parlors around town,” Diavolo offers with another disarming smile, his arms crossing. An asshole customer is an asshole customer, no matter how pretty their mouth is. 

“No,” Lucifer insists, “It has to be this one.” 

“Okay… Then you’re going to need to relax a little, because it’s not often that I have people come in during a storm demanding a full back tattoo out of nowhere,” Diavolo shrugs, passing Lucifer’s ID back to him. 

"I wouldn't do any work on you today anyway. You haven't paid the deposit and we haven't had a consultation meeting. Sorry, it's my policy." Diavolo shrugs, not very sorry all and Lucifer can tell. Lucifer looks like he's about to spin on his heel and march out the door, and Diavolo, damn his soft heart, holds up his hands.

"But… if you'd like, we can set you up for a piercing session. We've got an open slot and I'll give you a returning customer’s discount." 

"I want the tattoo." Lucifer says, like Diavolo's stupid for offering anything else and he has to stamp down his own mild tinge of annoyance. 

"And I get that. If you can afford my rates, I'm willing to discuss." Damn it, Diavolo knows the man is trouble, but Lucifer's mouth is so pretty when it frowns, as if affronted at the possibility of him not being able to pay. "But I can tell this is some kind of act of rebellion. I see types like you all the time."

"Types like me—" Lucifer repeats, suddenly furious, and Diavolo holds his hands up placatingly. 

"Hear me out." He says, and Lucifer's mouth snaps shut at the interruption. 

"You’d have to be blind to not see that this is part of some… bigger thing for you," Diavolo gestures at all of Lucifer, "And you're an adult that can make your own decisions. But for now, before you do anything stupid that involves my permanent work on your body," the distaste radiating off of Lucifer is palpable, "Try an ear piercing first. It's plenty shocking to you business types, and a helluva lot less painful. So, what do you say, Lucifer?"

Lucifer doesn't look keen on it, but he at least seems to be seriously mulling over Diavolo's offer. 

More time passes where Diavolo grows more and more convinced that Lucifer is about to tell him to fuck off and walk out of his life. At this point, it would probably be for the best. Diavolo is a sucker for sullen, gorgeous businessmen with obvious emotional baggage—not that he'd realized that until a scant ten minutes ago, but Diavolo's always been a bit of a masochist. 

As if the day's events have finally, truly weighed down on him, with a barely visible slump to his shoulders, Diavolo sees when Lucifer relents before he hears it. 

"Fine."

-

-

Barbatos' workstation is immaculate as ever, and the other works with maximum efficiency to prep his required instruments. 

“You’re the one that pierced my brother, Mammon,” Lucifer says, and something in Diavolo’s brain clicks. Mammon. Lucifer’s brother is Mammon—the very thought almost makes Diavolo burst into laughter. 

Barbatos is nothing if not polite as he tips his head to the side, as if trying to remember Mammon. He snaps his gloved fingers, and nods. 

“Ah, yes! He’s the one that passed out, I believe.” Lucifer looks strangely… delighted by that. 

“I’ll be over there, then,” Diavolo says, leaning against the door frame and gesturing back behind him at the front office. Diavolo almost laughs again when he sees the clear alarm in Lucifer’s eyes, can hear the silent why aren’t you doing it before it’s said out loud. 

“Barbatos is one of the best piercers I’ve ever worked with, you’re in expert hands,” Diavolo hums, soothing. 

It somehow works, because Lucifer is lowering himself into Barbatos’ chair. Not a word escapes from Lucifer as Barbatos finishes prepping the earrings, two black studs that Lucifer had chosen from Diavolo’s display case. Lucifer actually looks a little pale, and Diavolo thinks it’s adorable.

“Unless… you’d like me to hold your hand, if you’re scared?” He teases, and Lucifer’s eyes narrow in purposefully unconcealed fury for one beautiful, brief moment. It shutters away as fast as it comes, and Lucifer is staring impassively at the wall before him. 

“You may leave.” Lucifer dismisses Diavolo.

Diavolo hangs out, just to be a dick. Lucifer does not flinch, or sway in his resolve past that one moment of weakness. Barbatos finishes one ear—Lucifer does not react in the slightest—and moves to the next. He tilts Lucifer’s head gently to get better access, and it makes Lucifer have to look at Diavolo in the doorway. Diavolo gives him a brilliant smile, but Lucifer glares at him the entire time. 

Diavolo loves it. 

-

-

Diavolo doesn’t see Lucifer for one week; but he hasn’t received any terrible reviews on Yelp, and no department official has come knocking down his door with a surprise audit, so he thinks he’s in the clear. All in all, he chalks the experience up to some kind of weird twist of fate. He’s perched on a stool behind the register at the display case when the automatic doorbell chimes. Diavolo’s lips part to welcome the guest even before he looks up. 

“Hey, how’s it—oh,” Diavolo says, finally glancing up from his newspaper, “You got bangs.” 

Gone is the messy, windswept bun that Lucifer had his long hair tossed into, and instead, a short, layered cut has replaced it. It makes him look younger, somehow. Or maybe he’s just gotten more sleep. Lucifer reaches up to card a hand through his hair, pushing the now loose strands out of his face.

Diavolo spares a moment of silence to mourn that he never got to see how long Lucifer’s hair was in person, “It looks nice.” 

He places his cheek in one palm, grinning at his client. It would be easy to miss the light blush on Lucifer’s cheeks at his comments, but Diavolo is more perceptive than most. 

The blush on Lucifer’s cheeks intensifies, and he coughs into his fist. “Thank you. The hair was a nuisance, so I cut it off.”  

Silence passes, and Lucifer blinks, as if he’s not quite sure why he overshared. Diavolo takes pity on him, and tries to continue the conversation.

“How are your ears healing, then? Are you—”

“I’d like to set up a consultation meeting.” Lucifer breathes, and Diavolo blinks at him. Then he sighs. 

“Before that… I suppose I should apologize for my impudence the other day, Mr. Morningstar.” Diavolo says, finally, elbows propped up on the glass counter. He watches for Lucifer’s reaction like a hawk. 

“How did you—” Lucifer’s lips remain tight, before realization dawns behind his eyes. "You saw my ID the other day." 

He glares, no doubt wondering if Diavolo gone to the press with information of his spontaneous request. It would be like dumping chum into shark infested waters for them to hear how the otherwise resolutely tight-lipped eldest brother is doing. Too many people are already trying to pick at the man’s psyche for more garbage to feed the greedy masses. 

“I barely even noticed your last name," Diavolo waves his hand in the air dismissively, "However… it's a little hard to ignore a face like yours when it’s been plastered all over the news,” Diavolo spins the newspaper around, sliding it across to show the grainy picture of Lucifer and three of his younger brothers at the last company gala. Lucifer's proud, intimidating stare is unmistakable in its intensity. 

The headline ‘FALL FROM GRACE: Lucifer Morningstar Leaves Celestial Industries over Disinheritance Scandal with Brothers’ stretches across the page in blocky, damning font. 

"I didn’t reach out to any media outlets. You can relax,” Diavolo huffs, “But really? Your first move after all this is to go and get a tattoo?" 

“Do all of your consultations feel like interrogations?” Lucifer shoots back, lips turned down in a frown. He does not look down at the article, his gaze keeping level with Diavolo's.

Diavolo laughs, and holds his hands up, “No, not really. I only try to make sure my clients understand that this is too permanent and expensive of a decision to make on an emotional bender. Tattoo removal is possible, but it’s costly.” Diavolo lets his own eyes narrow in the slightest, “Considering you don’t have the fortune of a multi-billion dollar corporation to fund your whims anymore, I doubt you’d have the money to spare if this is something you regret.” 

“Why are you antagonizing me over this,” Lucifer grits out, hands fisted at his sides. 

“I take pride in my work, Morningstar.” Diavolo stands, inherently pleased to see that Lucifer’s furious gaze has to tilt up in the slightest to continue meeting his eyes, “I have no desire to see someone else's terrible work slapped over something I created." 

"If you get paid, what does it matter?" Lucifer spits, clearly reaching his wit's end. Diavolo stares at him, silent, and Lucifer shuts his eyes. He exhales through his nose for strength, and cards a hand through his hair again, clearly unused to it still. When he speaks, his tone is genuine, and he sounds tired. 

"I apologize," Diavolo blinks, not expecting the other to deflate as they have. When his eyes open again, they are alight with a fervor that Diavolo's breath catches at. “I have had…. An interesting week.” His smile is wry, too tangled up with hidden meanings that Diavolo isn’t sure if he should consider it a smile at all. 

“I understand that this is permanent. As permanent as being disinherited publicly.” Lucifer’s stare is unflinching, his resolve ironclad and as spirited as Diavolo’s own, “Which is why I have come to request a consultation appointment, rather than demand you do it today. You are the only one who I want for this.”

Why rests on the tip of his tongue, but Diavolo knows the hard look in Lucifer's eyes, the kind of determination that refuses to be ignored, denied. It's entirely possible that Lucifer himself does not know why, only that he must. Diavolo keeps his gaze for another moment longer, fingers suddenly twitching for a habit that he quit long ago. Barbatos would kill him if he started smoking cigarettes again anyway.

Another moment, and Diavolo allows himself to smile. 

"You could have scheduled a consultation online, you know," Diavolo laughs, and moves from around the counter towards his small side office. 

"Come on," Diavolo says, but Lucifer does not move, still staring Diavolo down from his place in Diavolo's front desk area. Diavolo looks up at the heavens, exhaling ruefully, "I'm assuming you have an idea of what you want." 

Lucifer only takes a moment to shake himself out of his stupor, the cool, almost snobbish expression back on his face. 

"Of course."

--

--

Diavolo's laugh shakes the walls of the small office, and Lucifer's face is, amazingly, deep red. Diavolo is hunched over, hands gently sifting through the sketches. 

"You're insane. Your first tattoo and you want a fully detailed back piece? Not to mention it's huge." 

"We’re looking at somewhere between twenty and thirty hours of work. What if you can't handle the pain? Back tattoos can be rather painful, depending on where I'm working at the time."

"That won’t be an issue." Lucifer sniffs, back straight as he sits across from Diavolo.

“It’s going to cost you,” Diavolo warns. He knows what his work and experience is worth, and charges appropriately. 

“Everything does,” he says, simply. He catches the quick glance Lucifer tosses at his now bare wrist, and remembers something about Lucifer wearing one of those fancy watches last time he’d seen the other. Had he sold it?

Diavolo hums, before looking back down at the sketches in front of him.

"Did you draw these?" Diavolo asks, impressed with the amount of detail. It'll be a challenge for sure, but if Lucifer wants to keep the tattoo exactly like the source drawing, Diavolo's confident he can do it justice. However… if Lucifer allows him to add his own touch... it'll be spectacular.

"My sister," he hesitates on the word, and Diavolo knows there's a lot to unpack behind that, and immediately labels that as 'definitely do not touch', "She was the artist of our family." 

Ah, was. Lucifer's gaze darkens as he stares down at the papers, and Diavolo sighs. He runs a hand through his short hair, and leans back on the couch. Crossing his arms, he huffs when he looks at Lucifer again.

"Alright, you're crazy, but it's your money." 

-

Other assorted headcanons/thoughts:

Not exactly sure what Lu’s desired tattoo is but it’s something like this pic

Lilith has like, Just Died. Is v sad. 

Getting his ears pierced felt like absolute nothing to Lucifer, but having no point of reference he’s allowed to be a lil apprehensive. (“It’s like a shot, just… really close to your face!”  Thanks, Mammon.)

Mammon has awful tattoos from different artists, but ever since he discovered this Diavolo fellow, they've all been coming out beautifully. Asmo has also gone! Lu doesn't trust online reviews, and while he takes what Mammon and Asmo say with a grain of salt, he can’t deny the quality he's seen of Diavolo's is phenomenal. 

Diavolo's art style is similar to Lilith's.

All the brothers are around in this lil universe. for certain Reasons, it's just Luci/Mams/Levi/Asmo that have all been disinherited for now. 

It's been several years since I got a tattoo so I pulled details out of my ass sorry for the inaccuracies 

as always ty for reading (ノ°∀°)ノ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

[lavenderek]

fwiw i’m an A*3 volunteer - i do tag wrangling, actually - and i really do need to emphasise the fact that we are VOLUNTEERS, and there’s really nothing we can do when it comes to bigger issues re: the core of how the site runs and the values people feel it holds.

what i am really tired of is people assuming things about me because i’m a volunteer. people can be so ridiculously vitriolic - like that anon you got who was immediately at you like ‘SO YOU’RE FINE WITH CHILD ABUSE?’ is a perfect example of what i mean. no, i’m not, but i honestly do appreciate a rare space online that is *relatively* unmoderated - which is NOT to say it isn’t completely unmoderated. like you said, there are so many cultural aspects to even simple tags, and as a tag wrangler, you’re ‘trained’ on that. that’s just tag wrangling - i’m sure higher up volunteer positions also take the time and care to educate volunteers correctly on how to manage their roles.

again, though, there is fundamentally very little us volunteers can do for parts people might disagree with. we come from all walks of life and there are so many roles and we all only have so much time. fact is, the website is the way it and it’s unlikely to change beyond perhaps adding more ‘social media’ type functions, like blocking people. if you feel that there is content that is inappropriate or commenters that are inappropriate or whatever, you can report it directly to the people running the website (which i’ve personally done before for an extreme underage fic about a real life - albeit of-age - person), and i obviously didn’t check back to see if it had been removed, but i assume it was dealt with because i genuinely do have faith in the moderators. anyway, just some insight as someone who works with the site.

hey! thanks for the info actually this is really interesting. sorry about the delayed response, i saved it as a draft to come back to it later and then i got busy at work and forgot

while you're here, you mind if i ask you some questions? feel free not to answer, you're not obligated

i separated it into sections because i’m what? longwinded and easily confused

1. can this happen (has questions for you in it)

it's my understanding that the big uproar vis a vis CP fic on a*3 is more that a*3 is inadvertently creating a space where p*dophiles feel safe and can establish a following, in turn allowing them to normalize what they're doing and gain access to potential victims.

tldr, it's less "this is inappropriate" and more "the person who made this is dangerous." like, if the person who wrote that nasty fic you reported had a whole profile full of similar content and was gaining a following from it, that would be concerning.

is the overall effect a user has something that you all take into account when you're going through content on the site, or are you instructed to take the specific piece of content at face value?

and, do you think that's something it's possible to address by moderators? regardless of whether or not it’ll actually happen, do you think that is possible on this system?

and, even more optional than the other questions, if that was possible, what do you think that would look like? 

2. what is the process like on your end (has questions for you in it)

just for my own curiosity, how much leeway do you as a volunteer have over whether a fic should be reported? 

is it up to your own judgment or is there like a rubric or something? 

and what happens if the moderators decide that yeah, this fic can't be up anymore, do they remove the fic or kill the user's profile or what?

what happens if you report something, and the moderators decide it’s fine? does that reflect on you in their eyes? 

how often do you report fic? 

3. clarification of motive (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

like i hear you that you, personally, Anon J. Wranglerton, don't have control over the site itself. the topic of CP and abuse is touchy and wigs people out because it sort of self perpetuates.

it's like that anecdote that went viral a few years ago where a bartender explained that allowing one polite n*zi into the bar leads very quickly into lots of n*zis being in the bar. people want the n*zis removed from the bar. 

i'm sorry people accuse you of being an abuse apologist because of that, i think the idea that people wouldn't really see abuse as a concern is like, actually horrifying to them lmao and i can't necessarily blame them for that in and of itself

4. if i see where they’re coming from then what’s my problem (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i guess i don't share that reaction because disgusting content online isn't anything new for me. i accidentally came across it all the time when i was a kid going online. i nearly fell victim to an actual predator when i was 12 or 13. thankfully, once he asked me for more personal information i was able to get scared and see some red flags. (or if he wasn’t a predator then i should probably go and find my chat room boyfriend Oukami who explained “yiffing” to me and told me to send him pictures of myself so he could make me a wolf fursona)

from my perspective, the a*3 debate looks like this: predators are a concept that is deeply embedded in every corner of the internet, and very suddenly, people are very up in arms about a very specific website having predators on it. it’s like if all of a sudden people were like, “there are customers at Target who yell at the employees. if you still shop at Target, unfollow me.” 

like, yeah, you’re right, and that’s bad, but why Target specifically, and why now, you know? 

i think predators should be made to feel extremely unsafe in fandom spaces lmao, but i also think that’s something that can only be tackled socially. playing whack-a-mole with predators is a tale as old as time.

5. online predators (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

this is just me talking out of my ass, but my theory is that a huge component in kids today getting caught up by predators online is that the concept of anonymity and fear of strangers online has some holes in it on here.

first of all, people just a couple years younger than i am grew up on social media. that was the entire online landscape ever since myspace.

influencers use their real names and faces, and they have millions of followers and are treated like celebrities. a lot of these social networks make it extremely difficult to hide your identity at all. you sign in to youtube with your google account, which is linked to your phone and all your other accounts. instagram, twitter, facebook, and tumblr can all be connected, and a few of those apps encourage it and will interrupt you posting to be like “do you want to also put this on twitter, Firstname Lastname?” no, janet, i’m good. thank you though

this lends a certain amount of freedom to predators, because there is nothing stopping them from assessing somebody’s vulnerability and reaching out to them. 

6. online predators in fandom spaces specifically (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i think the fandom space cultivated on tumblr has actively contributed to that. 

look at all these blogs, they’ve got “about me” descriptions with their name, their age, a blurb about their interests, their gender identity, their romantic/sexual preferences, sometimes their fuckin myers-briggs designation. this is all expected behavior on tumblr. 

it starts as a sort of “this is my blog, here’s what i’m about,” and is compounded by like, “NTs can reblog this post but don’t say anything stupid,” or “minors DNI, how old are you,” like, you have to kind of verify that you’re “allowed,” in a sense, to participate in some conversations or interact with some posts. 

i think there’s merit in both of those things, blogs are for self expression and for interacting with likeminded users; and i don’t think it’s “gatekeeping” to stop straighties from clowning on your post about queer issues. 

but this has inadvertently created a sort of entitlement to private information. it also creates this false idea that because you and i have x and y in common, we can interact comfortably. 

it’s crucial to remember that predators aren’t all scary white men who want to visit you at home. some of them are cool 20-somethings who just happen to be normalizing sexual content with children in it. and they genuinely don’t see what they’re doing as wrong. if they’re already your friend, and you see them saying shit about how they’re not hurting anybody, it’s just pretend, it’s just a kink, then you’re probably going to sympathize with them. 

this isn’t to say, “stupid kids, they’re bringing this on themselves by oversharing to the wrong people,” because it’s neither kids’ fault nor unique to children. this kind of oversharing is taking place with all ages and kinds of people on tumblr. 

this is to say, this is what this particular subculture has caused: healthy boundaries are kind of bulldozed to make room for a kind of disorganized sense of community and morality.

7. back to CP on a*3 (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i think this kind of “CP is disgusting and you’re disgusting for looking at it” shit is dangerous. 

things this is NOT because of: 

CP deserves a place online

It’s A Slippery Slope, What Will They Ban Next

um, kinkshaming

there is no point in even trying to get predators off a*3

i just think it’s completely unhelpful. it’s literally a waste of their time. they’re wasting their time and hurting themselves and others in the process. it’s lacking in nuance and perspective. 

what we should be saying is “CP is a red flag. CP tells you something about the person posting it.” 

we shouldn’t be asking “are you okay with child abuse,” we should be asking, “what does this content say about the person posting it? are they unsafe to have around? if i realize too late that they’re unsafe, who can i turn to?” those are the kinds of questions we should be asking if our goal really is to protect people.

what the collection of block lists of supposed abuse apologists says is this: “you have to choose between not having to police online behavior, and proving your morals to me, a complete fucking stranger. if your morals are lacking, you’re out, we don’t speak to you anymore, and we tell everyone who will listen that you are a bad person.” 

not to delegitimize their concerns, but it’s fully just mccarthyism. like... that’s what mccarthyism was like. the fact that mccarthyism was bad isn’t even the point, it’s important to recall that mccarthyism did not work. it stopped happening for myriad reasons, one of which was that it was hurting people and wasting resources and doing absolutely nothing else. 

i obviously don’t want to be labeled “anti-american pinko scum” and fired from my job and disallowed from my neighbor’s house. who would? they’re not actually weeding out anybody dangerous, they’re just rounding people up who are just as angry as they are or who are scared of them lmfao. 

ever since that shitty post of mine went viral (which - “viral,” i guarantee it isn’t viral, i stopped looking at it literally that night) i’ve been terrified that one of these days i’m gonna like, comment on something and have the OP be like “wait a minute, you’re that bitch who made fun of some anti-a*3 people, unfollow me” lmfao. like, that’s what this rhetoric is accomplishing. 

i’m not boohooing, i deserved a slap on the wrist for making rude comments. i’m just telling you the extent of the results they’re getting. they made me feel sad. so at least there’s that. 

8. anti-a*3 people (has questions for anyone in it)

“fine, so we’re not trying to evangelize for not liking CP. so what? we don’t want people who like CP around. supporting that stuff is disgusting. we are blocking them for our own safety and don’t appreciate the tone police coming in and telling us it’s no big deal.” - an anti a*3 person, probably

yeah i mean, i get that. if i was really upset about something important and somebody told me “you’re right, but shut up about it,” i would also be pissed. 

my question, though, is this: is the underage tag on a*3 the limit we want to place on our activism against predators online? at minimum, is yelling at and blocking people about it on tumblr making us feel safer?

and also: how are we going to define the things we are trying to get rid of? what is underage? how do we account for differences in culture? how do we account for nuance when we make broad judgments? 

and also: who do we really hold responsible for this? who do we think is at fault and what do we want them to do?

i feel like we could all benefit from some perspective here.

9. back to you (has questions for you in it)

so like, is it fun? how’d you get the position? how long do you work typically?

do you talk directly with higher-ups or whatever? do you have coworkers?

do you have to read through lots of fic yourself or does stuff get reported to you and then you look at it? 

what other stuff do you report content for, aside from abusive content? like i read a post saying people shouldn’t be advertising their paypal or whatever on their a*3, do you nip stuff like that in the bud or is that something else? 

what if it’s just mistagged, presumably by human error not by a legitimate abuse of the system, what do you do? do you tag it for them or do you reach out to them and tell them to fix it or what?

who decided on the color scheme? can there be a skin that’s orange and avocado green? can you pass that on for whoever does the colors? i think i’d spend more time on any particular website if the color scheme was a nice, desaturated orange and avocado green.

nice

[purplesurveys]

1093

survey by pinkchocolate

Hi there! This list is based on some things I've done recently. Let's say, within the last few days. Have you done any of these things in the last few days?

Worn make-up? I never wear makeup. I’ve never felt the need to.

Worn perfume? Sure. I went out last Sunday to bring Cooper to the vet and to take myself out to a coffee shop for a few hours, so I wanted to make sure I smelled decent.

Taken selfies? I think I may have, but I’m sure I deleted them almost immediately.

Shared some photos on social media? Yes, I posted a couple photos of Cooper because he was being super smiley the other day. I also shared a photo of my laptop, which was playing Friends, beside my Friends mug the other night.

Woken up to the sound of your phone vibrating? Technically. But this usually happens when I’m trying to fall asleep in the evening, i.e. someone sending a late-night message, and not in the morning.

Heard the rain outside your window? Yes. It’s literally happening right now haha it just started raining.

Added sugar to a mug of tea/coffee? No. I use 3-in-1 coffee packets, which are already pre-mixed and all I have to do is add hot water. I’m terrible with measurements and starting from scratch and I doubt I’ll ever get the hang of manually combining coffee + sugar + milk + creamer + whatever else goes into coffee haha.

Refilled your drinks bottle? I don’t use a tumbler. I’m at home nearly every day of the week so I always have access to our glasses.

Felt emotionally involved while reading a book? This has happened before for sure, but not in the last few days.

Chuckled/laughed while reading a book? Uhhh I guess. My employer recently lent me this book on PR that they thought would help me gain a richer appreciation of the industry and I guess I did lightly chuckle at a few humorous anecdotes in it.

Spilled a drink? I don’t think so.

Eaten something that was sprinkled with sugar? Nope. I’ve eaten sweets here and there but nothing sprinkled with sugar.

Googled the definition of a word? At least a few times a day.

Read a Wikipedia article? Yes, I love Wikipedia. The last entry I read was a list on notable last words.

Laughed at a video you watched online? So many times. The main reason I watch videos is to be entertained and to laugh, to be honest; so it’s nice that a lot of creators make great, funny content.

Craved a savoury snack of some description? I’ve been craving gourmet donuts for weeks now. Nothing sweet; I’m looking for those with creative, out-of-the-box flavors.

Cursed after dropping an item on the floor? Probably.

Been amused by your pet's behaviour? I am always amused at their behavior. Kimi’s approaching 13 years but he still makes me laugh every single day.

Recognized an actor in a TV show, from another show you'd seen? I’ve only been watching Friends, soooo nothing to compare it to.

Seen an actor on TV that you thought attractive? Courteney Cox, always.

Typed something in a word processor? I had to look this up lol, but I guess I have if Google Docs counts as one? I use it a lot for work.

Been asked a question that you found awkward or difficult to answer? Sure. My grandma called up when I was stuck in a particularly tough period of my shift and she was asking how it’s been. I didn’t want to worry her or overshare, so I paused for a bit and just said “it’s going great!”

Smelled a pleasant food aroma? Yeah, my dad cooks up some great stuff al the time.

Dipped your food in ketchup, mayonnaise or another sauce? Tartar sauce.

Forgotten a hot beverage, then found it had gone cold? I don’t make hot beverages, so.

--

survey by kellyburnsred

What music video do you wish you were in? I don’t watch music videos a lot, mostly because they’re usually not at all related to the song it corresponds to and I never saw the point. Buttt idk, the one I had some of the most fun watching was One Direction’s Best Song Ever because it was hilarious. It’d be cool to fuck around with the characters there.

Who makes you laugh the most? I’d say it’s either Andi or Hans. JM and Kate are good runners-up.

You only can eat three things the rest of your life, what do choose? That would make me sick of those foods so fast...but if it were a legit life-and-death situation, I would go with surf and turf (so that I at least have a bit of variety), rice (because I can’t live without rice), and macarons (for something sweet).

What's one thing you wish you had in your life right now? Macarons. I recently liked a slew of local macaron shops on Facebook and even though I know it’s my fault, I hateeee that my feed is filled with macarons now haha.

If you had to give up your style, what other style would you choose? I’m not really sure. I can think of more styles I’m not willing to adopt, than those that can be my back-up.

What's your favorite ice cream topping? Hot fudge.

What is the bare minimum of sleep you could function on? I guess 3 or 4, but that’s the barest of the bare minimum. I would still be cranky if I was only able to sleep for that few hours.

When you drive, do you generally speed? Yeah, if I can. You’re always stuck in traffic in Manila so if you have the chance to press harder on the gas, you typically wouldn’t want to miss out on it.

Are you an animal lover? Yes, except for pests and insects I don’t like, like cockroaches.

What's the dumbest thing you've done because someone dared you? I once ate a piece of siomai that already fell to the ground; when I ate it I felt a lot of tiny pebbles and other debris so I promptly spat it out in a nearby bin.

What is the most disgusting trait that you have? Idk...typical disgusting habits make me wince myself. The worst thing I can think of is that I tend to keep my nails super long just out of neglect; and I usually only clip them once dirt starts getting trapped under the nails, or once it starts to become hard to type.

What was the last thing you talked to your friends about? Angela had made this really cute, DIY foldable collage for Hans for his birthday yesterday and I just checked in on her earlier to ask if he loved it.

What part of your day do you look forward to the most? The moment my shift ends.

What are your favorite song lyrics? This week, it’s probably “It isn’t the same, but it is enough.” It’s oddly calming no matter how sad the actual context is.

Who are your closest friends? Angela and Andi.

What profession do you admire the most? All are worthy of admiration. I don’t really have a ~favorite~

Do you believe in karma? Not strictly in the spiritual sense; but it can be comforting to think that the people who have hurt me will have their ass handed back to them someday.

What do you think is the funniest show on TV? Ooh, I don’t watch a lot of TV anymore...I have a sitcom in mind but it ended 17 years ago and it’s still pretty polarizing to this day, lol.

Are you an organ donor? No.

Did you have imaginary friends when you were younger? Just one, but I didn’t get the point of it and I got bored very quickly.

Have you ever smoked weed? No but a friend knows a supplier should I ever want to start getting into it.

Who do you look up to for your style? Idk, whatever girls my age are wearing these days.

What's the most expensive thing you've ever bought? With my own money, probably the hotel accommodation I purchased for my dad’s birthday this weekend. I’m super stingy with my money and I can’t imagine spending 4 or 5 figures on something just for myself.

What's your favorite amusement park ride? Not too big on rides.

Who was the craziest teacher you've ever had? Ironically, it was my Christianity/religion teacher from 5th grade. We bumped into each other a few weeks after I graduated high school and his first remark towards me was about my breasts. He did a lot of stupid shit too when I was in 5th grade but I don’t feel like getting into them because he was just one big headache of a man.

Where would you like to travel that you have not been? Thailand, if within Asia; Spain if outside.

If you could be any musician for a day, who would you be and why? No thanks.

Do you have any tattoos? No.

What are your favorite scary movies? Some favorites are Carrie, The Shining, and Scream.

[shittyfandomimagines]

that Queen shirt- S.M

Hi, I’ve been super absent and I’m so sorry. I’m starting to heal and move on with my life, so I’ve taken time off of writing, but a life without writing is not one I want. So, here’s a shitty imagine I wrote in like 30 minutes.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumbled to myself as my coffee hit the ground, my heart exploded with it.

“That’s not a very nice word to say.” A kids voice behind me states loudly, I could’ve jumped out of my skin. When I turn around, there was the cutest little girl standing there; her brown curls flowing down her shoulders.

“It wasn’t nice at all, I’m sorry. Where are your parents?” I ask and she frowns for a bit. “My mom had two boyfriends.” She states and I had to hide my laugh, I loved when kids overshared their parent's information.

“My daddy is somewhere, I can’t find him. I’m scared.” Her lip started to tremble and I crouched down to her level, engulfing her in a hug. “Do you know your dad's number, darling?” I ask and she nods. “He made me memorize it but I don’t have a phone.”

I handed her mine and she slowly typed in the numbers, I mean she did pretty well for a 5-year-old. I took the phone from her small hands and put it on speaker.

“Hello!” A voice frantically answered and I could tell from her eyes lighting up that it was her dad.

“Daddy!” Her little voice echoed and I heard a sigh of relief.

“Hi, this is y/n. I’m here with your daughter, she came up to me, she’s okay but a little scared. We’re on the corner of 5th Avenue, right by Joe’s Coffee Shack.” I explain while the little girl held on to my hand tightly.

“Okay, thank you. I’ll be there in like 2 minutes thank you.” The phone hung up quickly and I bent back down to her level.

“Your name is Y/n? That’s a pretty name.” She mumbled and I smiled. “What’s your name girly?” I ask while buttoning up her coat. “Millie.” She mumbles again and I grin. “Millie, what a pretty name for such a pretty girl.” I grin when she looks up hopefully.

“Really?” She asks and I nod quickly. “Of course! You’re a little superstar!” I lightly grab her hands.

I looked at my watch to see how long it’d been since the call, not even a minute yet.

“You’re a brave girl, asking for help. How’d you choose me?” I ask I was pretty curious about it.

“I was hiding over there and I saw you walking, you have the same shirt as my daddy.” She pointed to my Queen shirt. “Oh, so your dad is a music guy?” I ask and she giggles. “He’s famous and everything!” She yells and I smile. “Oh, I’m sure he is.” Seems like an adoring child who thinks their dad walks on water.

“Millie Alli Mendes, what in the world were you thinking?” We both look over, well fuck. She wasn’t lying about her dad being famous. I mean I hardly listen to newer music but everyone knew Shawn Mendes. He looks like a straight-up God. She also wasn’t lying about the shirts, we had on the exact same white T-shirt with the band's logo.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry. I saw a puppy on a leash and I followed it, it was so pretty and fluffy. I’m sorry.” Her eyes were watering and his face softened. “Don’t ever do that again, I almost had a heart attack.” He picks her up, finally taking a glance at me.

“Thank you so much —“ he waited for my name, Millie beat me to it. “Y/n. She has a pretty name, doesn’t she daddy?” She asks and he nods. “Very pretty name.” He grins widely. I had told him my name on the phone but I’m sure the adrenaline blocked it out.

“Looks like you dropped your drink, let us buy you a new one. You’ve helped me out today, it’s the least I could do.” He begs and I smile with a nod. “Sure, I can use another one.”

“When she dropped her drink, she used a very bad word daddy.” Millie giggled and I scrunch up slightly. “I did, in my defense, I was really looking forward to the drink before I spilled it.”

However, in my mind, I was thinking about how I wasn’t sure about this situation all, I was being taken to get a drink from a celebrity who lost their adorable child. But I’m not gonna be weird about it, I really wanted my marble frappe.

We ordered and sat down, Millie climbing into my lap a good 3 minutes in. “Millie, be polite and use your manners, maybe she doesn’t want you crawling over her.” He scolds and I shake my head, locking her into my arms. “No, she’s fine. I’ve grown quite fond of her.” I smile towards her, letting her eat a piece of my chocolate muffin.

“Well, you obviously have a great taste in music.” Shawn breaks the barrier, I nod. “I mean, what can I say, you do too apparently.” I joke and he shakes his head.

Time passed as we continued to talk about Millie, music, and stupid shit. It honestly felt so good, I felt like I was catching up with an old friend who I hadn’t seen in a while.

“Well, Millie has dance lessons. Maybe I can see you again soon?” He asks hopefully and I smile.

“As long as Millie is attended to when I first see her.” I joke and he rolls his eyes.

“So it's a hard yes, she’s not leaving my sights like that again.” He smiles

“Yeah? Then where is she right now?” I ask, knowing she was hiding under my legs, plus I heard her giggles.

His eyes widened in a complete panic, I almost felt bad for him but I grabbed his hand gently. I pointed toward the ground and his face relaxed dramatically. He squeezed my hand tightly before letting it go.

“I’ll see you soon. Millie get up here, now.” He sounded stern and I give him a look to be nice.

“I’m telling your grandma about what you did.” He threatens as he walks out of the door, I giggled at the goofiness between both of them. Something about them made my heart feel different, a good way but still different.

————— year & 1/2 later

“Can you please help me tonight baby? I know we’re supposed to go on our date but Mil has a fever and is sick. I can’t get ahold of the nanny, Millie won’t stop crying.” Shawn’s frantic voice filled my phone, my heart sad at the thought that he’s so stressed and that Mil was sick.

“I’ll come over, it’s gonna be alright babe. Bye.”

I stopped into the store to grab some soup before making my way to Shawn’s house, which was right down the road from my apartment.

“I’m here.” I sigh while dropping the soups onto the counter. “Thank you so much, I’m so sorry.” He pleads and I grasp the back of his neck. “Hey, you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m more than happy to stay in and watch Netflix. I can fix soup all night and give her Tylenol every 4 hours. I’m here.” I kiss his lips softly and he shakes his head. “You’re too good to me.”

“I know, but I also know you’ll find a way to make it up to me.” I wink and he shakes his head, small grin on his lips. “Yeah, I think we’ve established that before.”

“Maybe you should see her, she’d be glad to see your face instead of mine. She stopped crying 10 minutes ago when I told her you were on your way.” Shawn adds I nod. “Can you make some soup while I change, then I’ll take it to her,” I suggest and he nods. “Already laid out one of my shirts on my bed.” He smiles and I blushed slightly. “What a gentleman.”

I walked into his room, I’ve spent plenty of nights in here. It was such a beautiful space, the bed was huge and took up most of the room. Our pictures and pictures of Millie filled the halls leading to the room and the room itself.

I walked out of the room with his Queen shirt on, it fit better than mine did. I always insisted on wearing his instead, it smelled like him too, so it was a selling point.

I grab the bowl full of soup and a can of sprite, then head towards her room, her door was open and the tv slightly up.

“Y/n!” She hoarsely let out and it broke my heart. “Hey doll, I brought you something to eat. It’s so good, daddy and I had some in the kitchen.” I lied to make her feel better about eating it, Shawn had explained she didn’t want anything all day. He had to force some crackers.

She took a few bites before pushing it away, sipping on sprite slowly. Usually, this girl was like her dad, eating everything before you could blink. “I don’t feel good at all.” She groans and I take her hand into mine, other one combing through her damp curls.

“It’s gonna be alright. You’re such a tough girl and it’ll be okay.” I smile down at her, she half-heartedly smiles. “Are you staying with me? I don’t want you to get sick.” She whines and I chuckle. “You don’t have to worry about that, if I get sick I’ll just make your daddy take care of me.” I joke and send a small wink.

I could tell she was too tired to hold a full conversation, so I gave her some more Tylenol before heading out of her room with the bowl of leftover soup.

“She ate some of it, took some Tylenol and she looked almost out of it.”

“Thank you so much, I’m sorry again. I’ve just been here all day while she vomits or coughs herself to death. I mean it’s the first time I’ve seen her this sick since she was like 3.” He admits and I frown.

“Well, my years of working in a daycare where sickness spread like gossip are about to be handy.” I joke and he giggles.

“I’m so glad you’re here, you know how to make any mood better.” He groans in a delighted way.

“Well, I’m gonna eat that macaroni salad you had leftover and lay on the couch.” I grin and make my plate, taking it to the couch.

I played AGT while we ate, I heard Millie sneeze or cough occasionally.

—-

The sound of cries filled my ears, I shot up quickly and so did Shawn. “I’ve got it, rest,” I told him and I saw the hesitation in his eyes, but I pushed him back down and made my way to her room.

She was in the bathroom attached to her room, she had got sick again, luckily in the toilet. I stood over her to put her hair up in a bun, in case she did it again. I got a rag to put on her, but the feeling of her skin told me she needed a quick cold shower.

“Baby, let’s get in the shower,” I told her, she started whining and didn’t want to get in. So, I started the water and held her while we both stood underneath the cold water. I’m glad I like cold showers, or my ass would be frozen to death.

I got her out of the wet clothes, she was so whiny the whole time, as expected. Her fever was down and she went straight back to bed.

“Please don’t leave yet, I’m scared.” She called out and I nodded before sitting by her bed.

“It’s okay doll, I’m right here. It’s gonna be just fine. Let’s take some of this medicine and eat some crackers, it’ll help.”

She has finished a few saltines and took a kids NyQuil and Dramamine. By the time the medicine started to work, she was drowsy and ready to fall asleep again. “Goodnight doll.” I kiss her forehead, starting to leave the room.

“Night, mommy.” She mumbled and it stopped me in my tracks, a big smile played on my lips and I felt butterflies all over.

I made my way back to Shawn, shaking his body to wake him up. “Let’s go to bed Shawn, you’re gonna hurt your back.” I tug at his arms. “But, what if she needs us?” He asks and I continue to tug at him. “She took Dramamine and NyQuil, she’s gonna be okay.” I get him up and make our way to the bedroom.

“Why is your shirt wet?” He mumbles as he collapsed onto his bed. “She didn’t want to shower alone,” I explain shortly and he had a small grin on his face. “You’re the best girl I’ve ever had in my entire life.” He smiles up absentmindedly, I shake my head at his goofiness as I change into a different tee.

I lay beside him and he just stares at me warmly. “What?” I ask and he just shakes his head. “You’re just amazing.”

“She called me mom. I know it’s not that big of a deal because we’ve only been together for over a year and a half, plus she’s on drowsy medicine, but it warmed my soul.” His eyes widen and then went back to normal after I said it felt good.

“I mean you’re the most mom figure she’s ever had. I guess you should just move in with us.” He sounded like he was jokingly saying it. “Yeah, okay.” I laugh and he sits up a little to look over at me.

“I’m being serious now like you can move in with us. You won’t have to move that far, unlimited access to Mil and I. We love you and want you here.” He adds and my heart explodes.

“Shawn, are you sure? I’m always here or whatever, but this is different. I don’t want to rush you into this.” I brush out some of his curls, he sighed contently.

“What other girls our age, who isn’t already a mom, going to stay with someone else’s kid to make sure they make it through a virus? Or to jump in a cold shower with them? I don’t want to imagine any other good night or bad night with someone else, it’s gonna be you. I’m sure the mom role isn’t gonna be the easiest nor do I expect it from you because you’re my girlfriend, but someone like you in her life is the best I can get. You’re an outstanding woman and I don’t think I’ll ever be this close to perfection again. There’s no rushing this, it’s you.”

“Baby,” I mumbled with tears in my eyes. I mean he can’t just give me a speech like that and not expect me to want to marry him right now. “You’re the sweetest human on this earth. I just really love the two of you and I mean I love kids because I worked in a daycare, but my love for Millie is so much more. I literally just don’t want her to ever get hurt and I want to watch her grow. I love her most because she’s you, she lacks a mom but she has you and is just like you. You’re as amazingly wonderful and it’s like the tiny human form.”

“So, is that a yes to moving in or a big pretty speech before you crush my soul?” He asks and I chuckle.

“Yes I’ll move in with you, I don’t wanna do this without you guys.”

I watch his face light up more, he kisses all over my face and bear hugs me. “God, this means I get to wake up to your beautiful face every day.” He exclaimed while squeezing the life out of me.

“Can you believe that your daughter saw my Queen shirt and it led to this? Like this whole new life for us?” I ask and he chuckles into the crevice of my neck, the hot air tickling me some.

“Good thing she wasn’t scared off by your potty mouth.” He whispers and I slap his back lightly.

“Hey, don’t be a dick! I dropped my drink.” I pout even though he can’t see it.

He hums approval before nuzzling further into me, arms tight and patterns being traced.

It was calm and almost full silence before he broke it, in a quiet manner though.

“And if the mother role gets to be too much, just tell me. The last thing I want is to lose you from being pressured into it.” He whispers and I shake my head.

“It’s all gonna be alright, Freddie Mercury would believe it’s all gonna work itself out, so I will believe it too. We’re gonna be just fine, love.”

[madscientiststvstatic]

I think I overshare enough for people to understand I am not okay but not enough for people to know when I’m not okay and why I’m not okay

I think people know I exist but I don’t think I have a strong enough brand or good enough social skills for people to like,,,, talk about me behind my back (and not even like in a bad way, I mean like mentioning my name in conversations or thinking about me in normal day-to-day life or telling people about me)

Like I feel like people know who i am but they don’t know me which sounds stupid and cliche but I don’t know how else to put it. Like if I asked people to list off a couple random facts about me, they probably couldn’t do it, or it wouldn’t be anything too exciting/out-of-the-ordinary/personal. Maybe that’s just because there’s really nothing that exciting or interesting on my life? Idk.

I doubt people think of me when they’re not looking directly at my blog, and I doubt people even care

If I could hold a normal conversation like a normal person I could probably be more popular and liked. If all of my original posts were just vents or me being interested in stuff that nobody cares about, people would probably enjoy my blog more. I tried to stop teblogging stuff as much to give my blog a more authentic feel and to get more personal, but j don’t think it’s really working. I’m just no longer relying on the crutch of reblogs covering up how low-quality this blog actually is.

I bet if I had the social skills to talk to more people and become more popular and liked, I’d probably have the confidence to put out my original art and music and writing. The problem now is, I want to create things and show them to the world but I’m too scared of rejection and not sure people actually care. Plus I can’t create anything that I think is good enough.

This post is getting long so I should probably stop typing, and with these kinds of posts I’m probably gonna either be ignore completely or revive some level of pity form one or two people. I probably should mention more on here that I’m super non-confrontational when it comes to venting. I don’t like people responding to my vents by coming right up to me and forcing validation on to me. I don’t like feeling like people are putting me or whatever because it just makes me feel like I’m taking up their time and being a burden. Or it just doesn’t feel genuine. Still, getting acknowledged a little bit does feel better than getting ignore I guess. Sometimes. I don’t know. I don’t know if I’d rather just straight up be ignore or be given pity. There’s probably a better option.

Anyway, since I’ve already dealt with 2 “don’t reblog” posts being reblogged before since maybe some people don’t read tags or whatever, don’t reblog this post

[passiontaee]

love language | r

pairing: yoongi x jeongguk 

genre: slice of life, camboy au

ratings: r

warnings: smutty smoot in here ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), masks, rough sex, anal sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, oversensitivity

word count: 8580

summary: camboy!au—college student jeongguk can't speak korean. yoongi can't speak english. this doesn't interfere with them having sex though. or yoongi is a twitter pornstar and jeongguk, a big fan, flies all the way from america to get dicked to mars by his favorite hyung

a/n: inspired by love language by kehlani and seegasm on twitter, the best korean pornstar who taught me everything I know and inspired this fic :)

ft. google translate korean so it’s probably not even accurate :’))

↬ s. 

He groans as he releases, hand slowing down on his cock as he paints his hand and lower abdomen white. On screen, Suga cums seconds later, slowing down inside of his partner, named simply Soccer Player from a Local University in the description but Jeongguk doesn’t care. He’s insignificant to the task at hand. Has nothing to do with Jeongguk rubbing one out while watching his favorite porn star. In fact, the male that Suga had been fucking was simply a place holder—Jeongguk had plastered his own face onto the male’s masked face, having it stuck in his head that Suga was fucking him and not the smaller, blonde male on the screen. He doesn’t understand the words exchanged between the two after, hearing the soft, breathy rumble of the bottom’s voice paired with the husky, lowness of Suga’s voice. For a porn star who wore a mask on screen, he didn’t try to mask his voice. But Jeongguk doesn’t care. Said voice was a nice voice—assisted quite well when it came to these late night sessions or even the random moments when he’d get aroused and need to jerk off in the shower or something. 

In the aftermath of his release, timed quite well to be honest, there’s a banging on his door. 

“Jeongguk! Jeongguk open up!”

Hoseok’s voice startles him to the point where he drops his phone, earphones falling out of his ear and landing on the floor with it as the video officially ends. He panics, hoping that Hoseok hadn’t heard him viciously jacking off and probably moaning like a bitch in heat while imagining he’d been in the soccer player’s place. Pesky soccer player, he grumbles in his mind as he hurries to grab a nearby shirt and clean himself up a bit. Grimacing at the mess but it’s good enough. He’s unsure why Hoseok is so urgently banging on his door, but he dares not question it. Once he’s decent and wearing a clean shirt, he heads to the door. Unlocking it and opening it, seeing Hoseok sporting a bright grin, Taehyung on the couch munching on potato chips as he watches the latest episode of an anime they’d found together. Hoseok sniffs around, then stares at Jeongguk knowingly. Judging him. Jeongguk feels like kicking him in the shins. 

“What?” he asks, leaning his head against the door frame. Hoping to not look as fucked up as he truly was. 

“Are you done beating your meat to Suga?” he asks, as if Jeongguk was naked with his hand down his sweats fapping right in his face. This doesn’t make Jeongguk less embarrassed though, and he simply nods stupidly. “Good. Now, me and Taehyung are going out to grab something to eat. You coming with?” he steps away to reveal Taehyung, who’s still on the couch. But he looks over at them and smiles, nodding. 

“I’m in the mood for Taco Bell. What about you Guk?” he shouts, as if Jeongguk can’t hear from where he is. He can hear quite well, as a matter of fact. But Jeongguk’s stomach agrees with Taehyung—Taco Bell sounds delicious right now. 

“Yeah, Taco Bell is fine,” he agrees. Hoseok claps his hands. “Good! Who’s driving?”

Jeongguk nearly tears into his gordita, groaning in satisfaction at the flavor that pours into his mouth. Taco Bell was far too delicious for it to be fake meat. He doesn’t care at the moment, and neither does Taehyung or Hoseok for that matter. Hunger wasn’t enough to describe the feeling he had driving him to eat as quick as he was. 

“Thanks Hobi,” Taehyung grins at the brunette beside him, who’d paid for everything. He simply hums, giving him a thumbs up and then petting Taehyung’s head. Jeongguk rolls his eyes. Hoseok nearly babies Taehyung when he’s the youngest. Hoseok babies him too, but not as often as Taehyung. 

“Considering I just got paid, I figured I treat you guys,”

“Wow, you really sound like a sugar daddy,” Jeongguk snorts, reaching for his soda. Hoseok winks at him suggestively as he says this, causing Jeongguk to choke on his drink. 

“Nah, I’m not the suga daddy you really want,”

“Oh my God, not here please,” Jeongguk begs, hoping Hoseok would shut his whore mouth about him obsessing over Suga. 

“It’s so weird man,” Taehyung interrupts, taking a break from his burrito in order to join in on the fun. “I’m the one who introduced him to you, and now you’re like, obsessed with his dick or something,” 

Jeongguk’s cheeks redden as the two men continue talking, like he’s not there. 

“Wait, he’s Korean right? Jeongguk, I didn’t know you understood Korean,” Hoseok sounds amazed, considering out of the three, Jeongguk is the most American one between them. Even compared to Taehyung, who’s parents had been born in the states. They didn’t even speak Korean. Hoseok’s the only one, of the three of them, actually born in Korea.  

“Nah, he doesn’t. His parents speak it to him and he just stares at them like he’s stupid. It’s kind of funny really,” Taehyung snorts, laughing over his drink. Hoseok joins in, and Jeongguk just huffs. 

“It’s not my fault, they never taught it to me. Besides! I know some words!” He defends hotly. Hoseok leans over, smug expression on his face. 

“Oh yeah? Speak Korean to me then.”

Jeongguk stiffens at this, but he’s not about to back down from this. So he thinks of something basic—the extent of his knowledge—and opens his mouth. 

“Annyeonghaseyo cheoneun uli chingu geulub maknae Jeon Jeongguk-ibnida.”

Taehyung and Hoseok stop, stare at each other, and snort out laughter. Hoseok slapping the table and Taehyung wheezing so hard he chokes. Jeongguk doesn’t see anything funny about what he just said and just stares at them confusedly. 

“What?”

“Is this how you plan to seduce Suga? With your cringey ass Korean? No, no this ain’t it,” Taehyung manages, trying to settle down. Hoseok gets up to toss his trash, already done eating. Taehyung reaches down, resting his hand on Jeongguk’s thigh. 

“You’re not going to survive when we go visit my family next month.” he says, gravely. Jeongguk had forgotten Taehyung’s aunts had invited him to come to his family’s hometown to visit for the summer. And of course, Hoseok and Jeongguk were invited to. All expenses paid. Jeongguk’s anxiety decides to sky rocket at Taehyung’s statement, but then Taehyung slaps his thigh, grinning again. 

“Just use with Google Translate.”

여러분 안녕하세요!  

여기 스가. 당신은 모두 잘 먹고 내 비디오를 즐기기를 바랍니다! 다음 주에 새로운 파트너를 만나게됨에 따라 앞으로 몇 주 안에 새로운 콘텐츠를 준비하십시오. 그는 꽤 인기가있다. 하하. 너 모두 그를 많이 사랑하는 것 같다.  

Jeongguk squints as he presses the Google Translate button to translate Suga’s tweet, 

Hello all!

Suga here. Hope you’re all eating well and enjoying my videos! Prepare for new content in the coming weeks, as I’ve gotten a new partner who’s returning next week. He’s pretty popular haha, you all seem to love him a lot.

Impulse kicks in as he hits the retweet with comment button, furiously typing. Then remembering that Suga can’t speak English very well—he’d tweeted about it before and Jeongguk of course remembers—and for convenience sake, he translates it before sending it. 

그는 스가 형을 만나기 위해 운 좋은 놈이다. 나는 그와 함께 밤을 보낼 것이다.

he’s a lucky bastard to get to meet suga-hyung, i’d love a night with him.

Of course, he knew to use proper syntax and call him hyung. Hoseok had taught him that word. He double checks to make sure it’s his NSFW account that he’s posting it to, and posts it. Hoseok would be very proud of his Google Translate skills. 

“Jeongguk! Are you done packing!” Taehyung peeks his head in, sunglasses on his face. Jeongguk looks up from his phone, jumping as if he’d been up to no good—of course he has—and stares at Taehyung for a moment, processing what he’d just asked him, and then looks over at the two suitcases on his bed and his carry on bag, then turns back to Taehyung and nods. 

“Cool. Okay, Hoseok is downstairs waiting on us to load up, so hurry please?”

“Yeah, yeah coming,” He says, pocketing his phone and moving to grab his things. His phone charger he stuffs in his carry on bag, and then he gathers other last minute things he needs. He then moves to grab his luggage, and follows Taehyung out the door and down to Hoseok, who’s gotten them an Uber to load their things in. 

“You guys ready for Daegu?” He says, excitedly. Dressed quite comfortably. Taehyung’s probably the only one who’s actually seemingly dressed up, even in loose fitting pants. Jeongguk has some concerns. 

“Hell yeah man, finally I’m meeting my fucking family. Mom and dad said they might tag along at some point, but honestly I doubt it,” Taehyung shrugs, tossing his things in the trunk. Jeongguk follows, but smiles and nods. 

“I’m kind of excited to see what Korea looks like to be honest,” he then playfully shoves at Taehyung. “Bonus points I don’t have to really pay for anything,”

“Hey, are you telling me you’re only my best friend because I’m rich?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Oh, Jeonggukie. You wound me so,” He dramatically whines, then flops into the car. Hoseok and Jeongguk follow, Hoseok trying not to laugh at their dramatic display as the three of them pile into the backseat. The Uber driver seems nice, greeting them and asking them where they’re going. Hoseok, who’d bought the Uber, explains their situation—overshares more like it—and the woman and him converse the entire time. Taehyung’s on the phone with what sounds like a family member, speaking in dialect as he responds in Korean, very rarely using English. With his two friends occupied, Jeongguk pulls out his phone to check his NSFW account, hoping neither of them looks over and sees it’s a stan account. He sees he has a new direct message, but then freezes. 

Oh man, holy shit. 

He blinks, looks up and tries to buffer, then looks down at his phone again. 

It’s still there. 

It’s real?

Is he seeing things? Is this a prank?

No, because he knows, deep in his soul, that this is @_suugaa and he knows that he’s fucked.

“Guk you okay? You look pale, man.” Taehyung waves his hand in front of his face. Jeongguk blinks, then looks over at his best friend. On the other side, Hoseok is snoring away. Napping during their long flight, but he hopes its not that long. South Korea isn’t that far from Southern California. 

“Huh? Yeah. I’m good,” He’s not good, and will probably never be good again. How can he, when his favorite porn star had not only liked his tweet, but had messaged him. Messaged him. Slid into his DMs. Jeongguk doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly being blessed and what he’d done to be blessed. Maybe it was actually a curse in disguise. Or maybe, it was an accident? He hadn’t even clicked on the message—he hadn’t even read it. Unsure how, when he’d seen the preview was in Korean and he really didn’t want to make a damn fool of himself. 

Why had Suga messaged him?

“You sure? We can get you some water if you need it. You’ve never been on a plane before, right? Maybe you’re getting turbulence sickness or something,” Jeongguk feels bad that Taehyung seems genuinely worried about his well-being, but knows that if he tells him he’s about to cry because Suga messaged him, Taehyung would be on his ass trying to interact with Suga as well. He wasn’t that big of a fan anymore, but he still sometimes jacked off to him too. Jeongguk had heard him a few times. 

“Yeah. I’m good. How much time do we have left before we land?” He asks, hoping that dropping the subject and acting natural would help. He really didn’t want Taehyung to know what just went down. Taehyung looks at his watch, humming. 

“Probably about three or four more hours. It’s getting dark,” he points to the window Jeongguk is sitting near, and sure enough the sky was darkening. That jet lag paired with the time jump is about to be a bitch and a half, he knows it. Taehyung gets up then, quickly. Jeongguk looks at him quizzically. 

“Gotta pee. Be right back,” he pats Jeongguk on the head, squeezing from between his seat and the one in front of him, then walks down the aisle briskly to get to the bathroom. Jeongguk watches him for a few moments, then looks over at Hoseok who’s still sleeping. Suddenly bored. 

Suddenly wanting to read the message. 

It wouldn’t hurt, right? Nothing painful about reading. Nothing at all. Besides, he had Google Translate on his hands. Thank God for the internet. 

So, he makes the leap—the jump to open the message. He pulls his phone out and unlocks it with his face, then ventures back to Twitter, and to the cursed message. Hesitating as his thumb hovers it, but he takes in a deep breath. Don’t be a pussy, Jeon. He taps the screen, seeing the characters that Suga had sent him. 

suugaa: 안녕하세요! 너 팬 이라구?

He stares at the message, understanding the greeting but hurriedly copies the sentence and switches to Google Translate. 

suugaa: Hello! I see you’re a fan?

I beat my dick to you nearly every night, I hope that qualifies, is what he says in his mind, but it doesn’t see the light of day as a response so he keeps it generic. 

jjk97: haha yeah, I watch you all the time. 

He translates it then returns to the app, pasting it verbatum. 

jjk97: 하하, 나는 너를 항상 지켜보고있다. 

If Suga suspects he’s using Google Translate, he says nothing of it. He watches, nearly sweating as he waits for the read to pop up. If it’s night there, he should be up. yeah? He’d mentioned being a bit of an insomniac in a tweet once. 

suugaa: 오? 내 비디오를 보는 걸 좋아해? 

His response comes a few moments later, just as Taehyung returns, elbowing his arm and stretching with a yawn. Jeongguk hurriedly switches tabs. 

“I’m kinda tired. You should sleep too, Guk,” Taehyung advises, but Jeongguk doesn’t think that’s a good idea. 

“If it’s night in Daegu right now, should we really be sleeping? It’s gonna fuck up our sleep schedule,” he insists. Taehyung shrugs.

 “Yeah, but then we can be up to go to a club or something. They’ve got karaoke places and stuff. Noraebangs. You’d enjoy those,” Taehyung mumbles, adjusting to get comfortable. Reaching for his bag between Jeongguk’s legs for his eye mask and neck pillow. Jeongguk mulls over the word Taehyung had presented to him in his mind, hoping he remembers it. And making a mental note to visit said karaoke places one night. They’d be there for a few weeks, so it should be fine.But Taehyung seems to be getting ready for a nap, a short one probably, and Jeongguk ceases his protests. 

“Wake me up when we land, if you don’t fall asleep,” He asks, pulling the eye mask over his eyes and placing the neck pillow behind him. Jeongguk nods, though he can’t see him. 

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks man.” 

suugaa: oh? so you enjoy watching my videos, huh?

Laying in bed, he stares at the message. Panting, sweaty after seeing Suga’s latest video. Not the blonde from last time, but a taller male this time. Vocal too. Hot Teaching Assistant Neighbor was his title. His mask was bright red—matching the color of his cock as Suga edged him. Matching his lips from Suga kissing him. Jeongguk honestly hadn’t expected Suga to fuck someone of the Hot Teaching Assistant Neighbor’s caliber—model-esque—but he had and had done it so well Jeongguk came twice. Taehyung’s in the shower and Hoseok had left to pick up food for them. Taehyung’s family had gotten them an AirBnB for their stay, and Jeongguk had shamelessly christened his room. But he could hear Suga saying this in his head as he’d watched it, oddly in English. And oddly, Jeongguk came a lot more than normal. He can hear Taehyung loudly singing some song in Korean from the shower, since his door was open, and sighs to himself as he tries to clean himself up a little. Knowing his shower was next and he really needs it. 

suugaa: 최신의 것을 보았 니? 

The notification of a new direct message comes up with this as the message, and Jeongguk twitches. Hurrying to copy it and paste it into Google Translate. 

suugaa: did you see the latest one?

He can answer this well, but uses Google Translate again.

jjk97: 예, 정말 좋았어요. 

yeah, it was really good

The next response comes a little faster than anticipated, which startles him. 

suugaa: was it? did you get off from it?

Suddenly, he needs Taehyung. Or an adult. Wait, he’s an adult. Shit. He lays there, staring at the message, before trying to fathom a response. Going back to translate it and sends it. 

jjk: 네

yes.

jjk:실제로 두 번

twice, actually.

Suga replies quickly, yet again. 

suugaa: 네

yeah? 

suugaa: 당신은 트위터에서 나와 개인 세션을 갖는 것에 대해 언급했습니다.

you mentioned getting a private session with me in your tweet.

suugaa:  한국에 살고 있니?

do you live in korea?

So, routinely, he returns to Google Translate, before throwing his phone across the room, sitting up and screaming bloody murder. Prompting the shower to stop and Taehyung to run into the room, soaking wet and towel clumsily wrapped around his hips. A shoe in his hand. 

“Guk! Guk are you okay?” He yells, eyes wild. Looking around frantically with a murderous look on his face before he settles on Jeongguk’s shell shocked form. Sitting up in just his boxers, staring at the wall. Eyes wide and lips parted. Taehyung sighs, relaxing, but walks over to Jeongguk carefully. Jeongguk says nothing and doesn’t even react. He starts to mumble under his breath though, unintelligible. Taehyung doesn’t understand it, but he does smack the younger on the cheek, once softly then harder the second time until a hand reaches up and tightens around his wrist. Jeongguk swallows, jaw setting. Slowly, he turns to look up at Taehyung, eyes blank. 

“Suga wants to fuck me.”

suugaa: 나를 Line에 추가해주세요.

feel free to add me on Line then

suugaa: myg1993

Jeongguk stares at the piece of information he’d been entrusted with, knowing that he will forever cherish this moment, this conversation. This time in his life when the Suga is interested in his ass. Glory, glory hallelujah. He switches over from Twitter to Line, quickly adding said man to his friends list. The icon is quite sexual; a picture of his hands, hiding what appears to be his dick. Bless the Lord above. Jeongguk is being fed and nothing had even happened from this just yet.

jeonbunny: hi

jeonbunny: it’s jjk97 from twitter

jeonbunny: is this suga?

He’s reminded of the fact that Line has automatic translation when Suga responds after a few moments.

myg1993: oh hello

myg1993: oh nice username haha

myg: very cute

He’s not blushing. He refuses. Him, Hoseok, and Taehyung are out shopping and he refuses to give away that he’s texting Suga. Last night was hard enough, as Taehyung relayed the events of the night to Hoseok when he’d gotten back, and the eldest had choked on his noodles from laughing. Jeongguk found nothing funny, but his not-so-secret secret was out. Which is why they were out shopping. 

“Listen, Guk, thank goodness you’ve got me and Taehyung. We can’t let you meet Suga looking like you do,” Hoseok says but doesn’t even look at him. Jeongguk is moderately offended—they’re always talking about how he dresses but he has the ability to wear nice things other than his hoodies and sweats. Or large shirts and skin tight pants. He sees Taehyung pull out a pair of leather pants, holding them over to Jeongguk’s hips to check them, then to his own. Him and Taehyung do wear each other’s clothes sometimes. 

“These will flaunt your thighs nicely. And after, you can wear them clubbing and pick someone up,” Taehyung grins, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Speaking of that, I saw a club on my way back last night. We’ve got to check it out,” Hoseok points out, holding a silk shirt. Jeongguk can tell he’s going to buy it. 

“A club?” Taehyung’s eyes sparkle. Jeongguk takes this moment to pull his phone out, seeing he had forgotten to answer Suga back, and while Hoseok and Taehyung discuss clubs and hotspots, he secures his dick appointment—if one could even call it that. 

jeonbunny: haha thanks

jeonbunny: also, sorry for not responding, out with friends

jeonbunny: and no, I’m not from korea. i’m here with friends on a vacation

He then checks Twitter, exiting from the direct message page, then sees his parents texted him. He answers them telling them he’d made it fine and was enjoying himself. Perhaps enjoying himself too much, but that’s none of their business. It’s not like he’s doing anything illegal. To his knowledge. 

myg1993: so you’re a foreigner?

jeonbunny: yes and no, my parents are korean but I was born in america

He hopes that Suga finds that attractive. He;s screwed a few men of varying ethnicities so he hopes that him being American isn’t a turn off. Truly, it would be an honor to be denied by him even, but he;s sure Suga is interested because if he wasn’t, would he have really given him his Line information? And from what he knew about usernames—which wasn’t a lot but that’s fine—this was a personal account. He might be reading too far into this, but why give him a personal Line account to contact? Unless, this wasn’t his personal? Jeongguk is confused. 

The rest of the day is uneventful; more shopping and more gossiping. More embarrassing Jeongguk about scoring a hookup as soon as he got to Korea and more jerking off in his bedroom while the others did their own thing. The day turned to a week, and their first week had quickly passed in the city. By this time as well. Suga and Jeongguk were working out meeting times. Confirming that yes, Suga wanted to sleep with him and film it. Jeongguk wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but it was Suga. Automatic free pass. 

myg1993: are you with your friends right now?

jeonbunny: one is sleeping, one is meeting with his family

myg1993: how about tonight then?

Jeongguk spits out his milkshake, but his fingers are frantic in their typing. It’d been a week, yeah, and he was a bit more comfortable with this. So he assumes it’s fine. 

jeonbunny: will my identity be protected?

Considering the fact that Suga seems to take great care in protecting identities—even though the masks they wear are half masks—he was sure this question was a little stupid. Suga doesn’t make a comment about it though. 

myg1993: yeah, you’re fine

myg1993: I even have the perfect mask for you

Had he really picked out a mask for him already? Had he been planning this? Jeongguk’s really curious, but he’s been sharing kinks with Suga in the week they’ve been chatting, as the other had asked and Jeongguk was either stupid enough for eloquent enough to share them. 

"Have you packed everything you’d need?”

Taehyung helping him pack for the “appointment” with Suga reminds him of a parent sending their child off for school. He’s got a backpack in his lap—Jeongguk’s—and carefully adds things to it. A toothbrush, lube. Condoms. Toothpaste. There’s an extra change of clothes in there, then another outfit for tomorrow. Jeongguk doesn’t find that part necessary, but whatever. He might need half the stuff Taehyung’s throwing in his back anyway. 

“Yeah, I think so,”

“Also, make sure to keep your phone charged. You’re in a foreign country and you don’t know anyone here. Other than me and Hoseok. Don’t call an Uber, call us. We’ll get there faster than an Uber,” he says, and Jeongguk believes him. Hoseok is a great driver, but will drive like a bat out of hell if he needs to. 

“Gee thanks mom.” Jeongguk snorts, but Taehyung ignores him. 

“Did you prep yourself?” Jeongguk drops his phone and whips his head around at Taehyung as if he’d slapped him. 

“Why are you asking me—”

“You and I both know you’re a bottom and Suga is very much a top, so it’s kind of important that you’re a little prepared for this so that he doesn’t have to spend 84 years stretching your ass open,” Taehyung deadpans. Jeongguk squats to retrieve his phone, bucking and feigning throwing it at Taehyung who’s look of deadpan morphs into an innocent smile. Jeongguk doesn’t like Taehyung right now. 

“Well, it’s settled! You’re all set then, come on I’ll drop you off.”

He knocks on the door when he arrives, a little nervous all of a sudden. The apartment complex isn’t far from their AirBnB, and Taehyung had lingered a bit, asking if he needed to follow and make sure that he got in safely. Jeongguk insisted he didn’t need that, so Taehyung had bid him farewell, once again reminding him to keep his phone charged in case he needed rescuing. Jeongguk really doubted he’d need it, but promised him he would. 

The door opens a few moments later, and Jeongguk isn’t expecting the face he sees at the door. 

Well, maybe a little since he’s seen half the man’s face before, but isn’t aware of how attractive he is until now. He’s always been attractive, but wow. 

“Oh, hello,” He greets. The man—Suga—stares at him a little weirdly, causing Jeongguk to stare back. Confused as to why he wasn’t responding. He thinks for a moment, before realizing something. 

“Oh! uh, annyeonghaseyo,” his parents had at least taught him this, which he adds a bow to. Ducking his head politely but not bend at a 90 degree angle or anything. 

“Annyeonghaseyo. Jeonbunny?” The way he pronounces his Line username makes his stomach all gooey. It’s kind of cute, and he almost doesn’t answer. 

“Jeonbunny,” he points to himself, affirming the statement. Suga seems pleased with this, stepping aside to allow him inside. 

He steps out of his shoes, leaving them at the door. Suddenly a bit nervous because he doesn’t speak Korean. It’s honestly broken and poorly worded, and he’s sure at some point he’ll say something completely wrong. The man walks ahead of him, starting to talk but Jeongguk is lost and doesn’t understand a thing. Suddenly this wasn’t a good idea. He feels like he’s catfishing the porn star.

“Uh, Suga?” he calls, already whipping his phone out. Suga turns to look at him, curiously. He then points to his phone, typing something up in Google Translate, and allows it to translate for him. 

“Naneun hangug-eoleul jal moshabnida.”

Suga looks a little surprised at this, but then laughs, nodding his head. He points to Jeongguk’s phone. 

“I speak. . .little English? Not much,” he comments. Jeongguk’s ready to drop to his knees and give thanks that he can at least speak a little. That’s manageable. “Might need this,” he points to the phone again. A lot more understanding that Jeongguk had anticipated. He honestly anticipated having to call Taehyung and explain that he’d catfished a porn star and that Suga was no longer interested. But clearly, this wasn’t the case.

“That’s fine, here,” he hands the phone off to him, and Suga takes it. But doesn’t immediately go to use it. 

“How is your Korean?”

“Minimal.” Jeongguk answers. Suga looks a little perplexed by this. 

“Minimal?”

“A little. I’m not very good speaking it,” he explains. Suga nods again, then decides to use the phone to type his next phrase. 

“You’re very good looking.”

The flush in Jeongguk’s cheeks is very noticeable. “Ah, gomawo?” This earns a smile from Suga, who simply says “cute” and turns to walk away, beckoning Jeongguk to follow behind him. Typing away on his phone. 

“Are you excited?”

“Yeah,”

“Good. Me too,” he speaks that part, and a shiver runs down Jeongguk’s spine. What the fuck. “Your name?”

“Oh! Jeongguk. Sorry,” he apologizes. Suga points for him to sit on the bed, which he does as the shorter man moves to get everything set up. 

“I’m Yoongi. Call me that, not on camera,” he warns. Jeongguk is honestly a little taken aback at how casual and considerate he’s being—not that he didn’t expect it, but it’s not what he’d had in mind. For some reason, he expected to be ambushed at the door. Not greeted and spoken to. Not a conversation. 

“Nervous?” Yoongi asks again, coming over with a camera on a stand. It’s smaller, they both are, and he figures this is going on the bed. 

“A little. My first time on camera,” Yoongi hums at this, clucking his tongue. 

“Not bad. Your looks are really good for it,” he compliments. Jeongguk wants to crawl into the mattress and hide. 

There’s silence for a few more moments as Yoongi gets set up, Jeongguk looking around the room and examining it. It looks like a room he’s seen in a few of Suga—Yoongi’s—videos. It’s almost surreal he’s sitting in the same room, in the same bed that Yoongi has had raunchy sex in with a multitude of people. Every inch of this apartment, in Jeongguk’s mind, is sacred. This place is truly a holy place. He feels dirty just sitting on the bed. Unworthy. While he’s processing the situation, Yoongi returns, sliding in front of him and pressing a mask against his face. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything as Yoongi fixes the mask on him, snapping it lightly behind his head to secure it. Wearing a mask of his own. Then leans in, pressing a long, searing kiss to Jeongguk’s lips, causing the boy to stiffen. 

“Relax.” he mumbles against his lips, pressing into him. Pushing him backwards to lay flat on the bed, straddling his lap. He reaches for Jeongguk’s phone, typing furiously into it. 

“Don’t bother trying to use Korean. My English is decent enough and I want you to be comfortable. Just tell me to stop if something gets too much and try not to say my name and I won’t say yours, okay?” it’s not Yoongi’s voice, but rather Google’s, and it’s not sexy but the care Yoongi is showing for him overrides the weirdness of Google’s voice. 

“Okay?” Yoongi quirks an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. Jeongguk nods.

“Okay.”

Yoongi seems satisfied with his answer, then proceeds to lean down and press his lips against this again. He knows the video will be edited, posted in clips on Twitter and full length on Yoongi’s personal site, so he hopes to look appealing at least for it. Which isn’t hard, because Yoongi is a great kisser, and Jeongguk feel himself relaxing the longer it goes on and progresses into a heated tangle of tongue and teeth—him getting a little bit too eager to shove his own tongue down Yoongi’s throat. But he allows it, chuckling huskily into Jeongguk’s mouth at the show he’d given. Moving his hips to grind down against the growing erection he’s already beginning to sport. But really, who could blame him when he’s got a lap full of the Suga? 

“You’re hard? So quick,” it sounds a little like a taunt, but it’s mostly a breathless observation as the lips on his mouth move to his cheek, to the angle of his jaw, and down his neck. Lips and teeth, careful yet calculated sucks. Yoongi’s being careful which he’s thankful for, knowing he didn’t want to pop up around Taehyung’s folks covered in hickeys and love bites from a random hookup. The mask shielding the top half of his face is a little sticky as it’s made of a latex material it seems, and not very breathable. He’s sure he’s going to be covered in sweat by the time they finish. 

Not that he’s complaining. 

Hands move to slither up underneath his shirt. Cold, slightly calloused hands. One runs over his nipple and his back arches on instinct. Begrudgingly, he must admit, he’d found the sensitivity in his nipples and seems to fixate himself on that for a moment. Moving back so that he can help Jeongguk get out of his shirt, then tosses it away and returns to planting kisses over the expanse of his pretty neck. Paying close attention to how Jeongguk sounds when he brushes a finger against one of his pink nubs. How he struggles to hold his sounds in even with Yoongi’s careful, barely there touches. Jeongguk, meanwhile, is torn over if he wants him to stop or keep going. Momentarily hating this curse but also relishing in it. 

Particularly when Yoongi’s lips wrap around a nipple, wet tongue lathing over it. Flicking and providing a gentle suction, before he gets a little hungrier, mouth matching the hand giving attention to the other nipple. Jeongguk can’t resist the moans that bubble out of him, nor can he resist bucking his hips up in desire. It’s pitiful—they’ve just started and he’s already aroused just from having his nipples played with. Yoongi pulls off with a wet pop, moving to the other nipple and using his hand on the wettened one, twisting and tugging at it with fluctuation between his teeth and lips, hands and fingers. Jeongguk is in heaven and it shows. 

“Like that?”

“Y-yeah, a lot,” he answers truthfully, lips parting in a silent moan at one particular, coordinated flick. His back bows a little as he squirms beneath Yoongi. 

“Cute. So cute,” he praises as he pulls back again, removing his own shirt. He’s careful with the mask, as he had been with Jeongguk. It’s escalating moderately quickly, but he knows it never lasts long, the videos. Never longer than an hour, but he hopes they do this more than once. Yoongi moves then, climbing off Jeongguk briefly to readjust the cameras, then slithers back onto him, this time moving his legs apart so that he was between them. Hands ghosting up the younger’s thighs and admiring them in the leather pants. Mentally undressing him. Jeongguk feels a little vulnerable, though knows if he wants to he can easily maneuver himself to be the supposed dominant, but resists. It’s not his place right now. 

The hands on his thighs move up to his torso, over the definition of his abdomen. A little soft from the frequent Taco Bell visits and lack of motivation to hit the gym, but Yoongi says nothing of that. Just stares in wonder at his abs. Reveling in them. He mutters something in Korean that Jeongguk doesn’t catch, but then he’s starting to undo his pants, leaning up to steal a few quick kisses from Jeongguk’s mouth, palming at the tent forming in his pants as he starts to fully undress him. 

“O-oh God, oh my God,” he heaves, gasping and looking down. Watching how Yoongi bobs his head down the length of his cock. Rapidly, roughly. He can hear the gagging noises as he goes too deep, but says nothing. Yoongi just pulls off, regains his breath, and goes back down. Jeongguk feels like he’s reaching nirvana. He’s close, so close, but then Yoongi pulls off, and replaces his mouth with his hand. Lazily jerking him off while licking the precum off his lips. Staring down at Jeongguk with hazy, dark eyes. He can see them through the black mask, seeing that Yoongi is hungry for him. 

It makes him feel like a caged animal. 

“Gonna cum?” he asks, thumb brushing over the slit at the head of his cock. Jeongguk rapidly nods, whimpering as he feels his orgasm getting closer and closer, but before he can release, Yoongi’s hand tightens over the base of his dick. But this doesn’t stop the way Jeongguk’s body jerks, twitching as a frustrated noise comes from him. 

“Not yet,” Yoongi cooes, voice saccharine. Jeongguk is not used to orgasm denial and can’t say he likes it, but he does like how Yoongi moves to grab a bottle of lube, then removes his hand. Motioning for him to turn over and get on his stomach, which he does a little slowly. Mind and body not cooperating at the moment. 

“Hy-hyung that’s mean,” he complains, earning a slap on the ass from Yoongi’s hand. It’s unexpected and startling and makes his heart nearly leap out of his chest. But he likes it. He soothes the angry skin after the smack, shaking his head. 

“Be quiet,” he knows a command when he hears one, and shuts his mouth quickly. Moving around a little and grabbing a pillow to lay under his head. Getting up on his knees and spreading them apart a little for better leverage. Arching his back and waiting expectantly. But when he looks back, all he can see is Yoongi admiring the sight with his eyes. Followed by the cool jelly of the lube. He hisses from it, wishing he’d had some form of warning, but Yoongi quickly follows up with his fingers, brushing one against Jeongguk’s hole experimentally. Only ghosting the rim; not pressing in. Jeongguk’s hands fist as he struggles not to rock back into Yoongi’s hands, seeking to feel good again like before. But Yoongi leisurely rubs against his pucker, pressing his thumb against, only to withdraw when Jeongguk’s hole tries to suck it in. 

“Greedy. How greedy,” he chastises, smacking at the opposite cheek from before before spreading his ass apart with a hand on each cheek.Sighing in delight at the sight. 

“Greedy for hyung, yeah? Want hyung’s cock?”

“Yes,” he pleads, almost exasperatedly. 

“Yes?”

“Yes hyung.”

“Good boy,” the praise makes Jeongguk feel warm inside and he probably won’t admit it, knowing he doesn’t have a praise kink. It just feels good—that’s all. Feels even better when he finally does let Jeongguk enjoy a finger. Just a finger at first, but Jeongguk’s huffing. I can handle more, he wants to say, knowing he had in fact stretched himself out prior to coming here, but wasn’t about to blurt it out. Though deep down, he wanted to get spanked again. 

Another finger is added, causing Jeongguk’s arch to increase a little, and causing him to rock back against the two fingers Yoongi begins to work in and out of him. Pressing against his and scissoring as they fuck him open a little more. Really, he should be annoyed at how he’s acting, but he can’t help it. Especially when Yoongi finds his prostate, basing it on the octave of Jeongguk’s moans, and how he reacts. It’s not hard to find, and easy to abuse—Yoongi finds this out as he presses both fingers to it. Withdrawing them a little and thrusting them back into the fullness of his ass. Rocking them, scissoring them. Jeongguk is weakly fucking back on them at this point. The orgasm from before is creeping up on him so fast he can taste it.

But then Yoongi withdraws his fingers. 

Jeongguk really whines then, tempted to throw a childish tantrum, but another swat at his ass cheeks shuts him up momentarily, and he feels something prodding at his hole. It slides in easily, filling him up and causing him to stiffen out of instinct, but once Yoongi’s fully sheathed inside of him,he stops. Briefly just rocking into him. Rolling his hips and kissing along his spine and the back of his neck. Muttering against his skin, but Jeongguk has no idea what he’s saying. Out of instinct he glances over at one of the cameras, but there’s a hand in his hair that pulls at his head, then shoves it into the pillow underneath him. Yoongi seems pleased with this new development, satisfied that Jeongguk wasn’t staring into the camera so blatantly, and pulls out a little, only to shove back in roughly. Groaning and pulling a rough noise from Jeongguk that’s muffled by the pillow. He does it again, this time rolling his hips against the plushness of Jeongguk’s ass when he thrusts in, settling there for a little. A smug expression on his face. 

“You feel so good, tokki,” he cooes. Jeongguk knows exactly what he’d just said—his grandmother called him tokki sometimes because he apparently resembled a rabbit—but it had never been used in a sexual setting. Until now, that is. He grasps the pillow and sighs into it, rocking back when Yoongi’s hips meet his ass again, but then he’s yanked by his hair to sit up, Yoongi still inside him and starting to speed up his hips. Less slow less sporatic. It’s a little rough and unexpected, but he doesn’t complain. Doesn’t complain either when Yoongi brings his face up to his ear—Yoongi’s a bit shorter and slimmer than him but in that moment Jeongguk feels smaller—and groans filth into his ear. He may only know a little English, but it seems he knows enough dirty English. Some things Jeongguk himself haven’t even heard; he’s absolutely filthy and Jeongguk loves it a little more than he’d like to admit. 

“So good, so good, fuck,” a hand slithers down to grasp at his cock, still stiff from earlier and still sensitive. It ghosts over it, but Yoongi doesn’t do much. He seems to be wanting to drag this out a little, but Jeongguk kind of wants to cum at least once.

He fucks him like this for a bit, spurred on by Jeongguk’s noises of pleasure. Feeling his body shaking with each thrust, hearing how he begs for him. He figures he can grant him a little something, and wraps his hand around his cock for him. Other hand in his hair to hold him up still as he shows little mercy. Jeongguk really thought Yoongi would be sweet despite knowing Yoongi is always a little rough with his partners, but the kindness from earlier had really thrown him. Despite the hand in his hair, Jeongguk starts to lean forward a little, Struggling to stay up, struggling to either buck into Yoongi’s grip or rock his hips back to fuck back on him. His brain is confused, he is confused, and doesn’t quite know how he should do this. Should he ask or more? 

Yoongi surprises him by pulling out, rather quickly. Slapping his thigh gently and loosening his grip in his hair. Jeongguk flops forward when the hand wrapped around him moves too, face hitting the pillow. He can hear what sounds like Yoongi laughing lightly, but then hands are at his waist. At first admiring it, but then guiding him onto his back. Which he does, rolling over and staring up at Yoongi’s face. Not expecting to make eye contact, but he does. 

“You’re good?” He asks, checking on him. Jeongguk appreciates it though. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he nods, assuring him he’s fine. Yoongi nods at this, and moves between his legs again. Grasping his own dick and sliding it back inside with a grunt. Holding Jeongguk’s legs open and starts up the same rhythm from before. Jeongguk throws his head back and curses loudly, gut twitching from the pleasure of this new position, finding he likes it better than the first. 

“H-harder! Harder please!” Jeongguk’s reduced to shameless begging. Yoongi’s holding himself up on his forearms, hovering over Jeongguk, who’s struggling to not be a loud mess underneath him. Eyes closed as he enjoys how Yoongi seems to use him selfishly. Said man smirks down at him, leaning down for a quick kiss, though his hips keep moving. Jeongguk tries not to tighten his legs around the elder’s waist too much but it’s hard. He’s close, Yoongi’s kissing him open and sloppy, and he’s pretty sure that Yoongi’s not going to deny him this time. It feels like they’ve been fucking for hours, but it’s probably only been maybe 45 minutes since they started. Neither of them seems to mind this though. 

“Harder? You want it harder?”

Jeongguk nods, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to act initially. Instead, he pulls back, adjusting again but doesn’t pull out. He sits between Jeongguk’s legs, spreading his out underneath Jeongguk’s

“I think you want to cum too?” Yoongi’s voice drawls out lowly. Leaning back on one hand while the other is used to hold one of Jeongguk’s legs open. Honestly, Jeongguk wasn’t sure how Yoongi managed this long without cumming, considering Jeongguk had been close many times during this. Maybe Yoongi has better stamina than he does. 

“N-no,” he complains. If he cums, he knows it’s over. This doesn’t appear to be the answer Yoongi had expected, and he rolls his eyes. 

“You wanted to before? Why not now? You lying to hyung?”

Jeongguk has never shook his head so fast in his life. But he’s not lying, yet doesn’t know how to convey that he doesn’t want this to end, so he doesn’t want to cum. Not yet. 

“So you want to cum?”

Jeongguk simply whines in frustration, but doesn’t say anything. Yoongi takes this as a yes, and nearly laughs at the sight before him. Jeongguk, sweaty and obviously wound up. Obviously he wants a release, right? Yoongi believes so. 

“Okay,” he says simply. The way he says it alarms Jeongguk, dread filling him as he feels Yoongi grow a little lazier with his thrusting from this position, but his hand wraps around his cock yet again, making up for the lack of speed in his ass by pumping him a little roughly. Knowing that it’s what he’d wanted all along. Jeongguk squirms, lips parting as he moans loudly. Unable to hold back. Simply laying there, struggling to come to terms with what was happening and mentally cursing Yoongi’s existence, though Yoongi seems none the wiser. Watching him as he brings him closer and closer to his release, but this time he doesn’t clench around the base of his cock when he does start to spurt cum all over Yoongi’s hand. His chest heaves, back bowing as it gushes out. Legs trembling as it dribbles all over Yoongi’s hand, all over his lower abdomen. The thrusts inside of him stop as well, matching the way Yoongi strokes it all out of him. Seemingly satisfied. When he’s done, he lets go, watching as Jeongguk’s flaccid cock flops into the puddle of his own spunk. Yoongi doesn’t try to clean his hand at all and instead, as Jeongguk manages to lean his head up, pulls out of Jeongguk’s ass and uses his cum as slick to get himself off. 

Oh. That’s hot. 

Yoongi’s hand flies over his own erection, Jeongguk getting a good look at it and silently admiring it in person—he should’ve sucked him off earlier, pity—and jerks a little when Yoongi does cum. It doesn’t take long for him to do so, surprisingly, but he aims at Jeongguk’s abused hole. Panting as he paints it with his release. He softens, but it doesn’t stop him from pressing the head of his dick into Jeongguk’s hole, getting out the rest of his release and watching it ooze out of the younger. Transfixed and hating he had pulled out. Well, next time he wouldn’t. 

“Pretty International Bunny Bottom? Damn Jeongguk,” Taehyung whistles, staring at the latest posts on Yoongi’s page. “Wait, how many videos did you make with him?!”

“Like three I think. We hooked up a lot, honestly. Sometimes we didn’t even record.” Jeongguk admits, feeling that this was probably common knowledge. They’re on the plane back, and he’s curled up beside Taehyung. Head on his shoulder as he stares at Taehyung’s phone, watching him scroll through the porn star’s page. Jeongguk was wrong—there were four compilations of him on Yoongi’s face. Something that didn’t happen, considering they were back to back as if Yoongi hadn’t slept with anybody else other than him or given anyone else other than him the time of day during the month that they were in Daegu. It was kind of weird to think about, and Jeongguk is a professional over thinker so it makes sense, but he doesn’t want to think too deeply into it. He probably liked Jeongguk’s ass. His own phone buzzed, causing him to pull it out and look at the notification.

myg1993: videos are up

myg1993: too bad you had to leave :(

It makes him sad too that he had to go back home, considering when they weren’t having sex, Jeongguk really did enjoy just hanging out with him too. Weird, but true. Yoongi was just a cool person, overall. No questions asked. He unlocked his phone to reply, frowning a little. 

jeonbunny: i’m watching them right now with a friend

jeonbunny: yeah i know :(

Taehyung side eyes him, growing curious. “Who’s that?” 

Jeongguk jumps, but locks his phone. “Oh, uh I met someone while we were in Daegu,” it’s not a lie, but not the whole truth. It’s all he needs to know, but he regrets it when Taehyung waggles his eyebrow. 

“Oh? Jeon you sly dog,” he playfully punches him in the arm. “I see you, I see you,” he leans back into his seat, cackling as he continues to scroll through on his phone. Jeongguk pouts, glancing over at Hoseok, who’s chatting with some guy named Namjoon that he’d met at the airport on their way back. Hoseok had made a friend, why couldn’t Taehyung make a friend too? 

“I need to pee,” he announces moments later, moving to get up and heads towards the bathroom. Too quick for Taehyung to say anything. When he gets there though, it’s occupied. Causing him to sigh, leaning over on the other side, against the wall. Yoongi seems to have read his message, but hasn’t responded. Which Jeongguk thinks nothing of, honestly. He figures that he’s probably sleeping or editing or doing something else.

"Sorry,” he hears when the door across from him opens and a person emerges, nearly bumping into him. He opens his mouth to apologize, but then his eyes go wide when he recognizes the person. 

“Yoongi?”

Yoongi turns, looking at him and blinks. Then laughs.

“Wow, hey Jeongguk,” he says, casually. But pats his arm. Jeongguk’s mouth is dry.

“I didn’t know you were coming to America?” he says, stupidly. Suddenly, he no longer has to use the bathroom. 

“Oh, ah. My family live in California. I’m visiting,” he thinks about his words then says them, and Jeongguk knows this, but also knows that he’s a lucky bastard that Yoongi’s family lives in California. He has no idea where in California, but apparently they’re in California and he’s in California and Yoongi’s in California—

“You wanna go out sometime?”

He can’t believe he’d blurted that out. 

“A date?” The question has Jeongguk going beet red. Taehyung, Hoseok, somebody save him. “A date, sure,” he finishes, then turns and walks in the opposite direction. 

“See you!” he hears, then makes his way into the bathroom. Locking the door and deciding to sit there on the toilet. Staring into space again.

A date with Suga. 

He’s going on a date. 

What are the odds?

↬ x.

[ part two ]

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[vanilluhbeaux]

Not Another Au!

vanilluhbeaux (distinque)

Chapter 5

: he gave them the heebie-jeebies

“You know, yesterday wasn’t that bad,” Kirishima said, walking into class behind Bakugou and Ochako, the latter of which shot him a confused glance.

“Eijiro,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “one of our classmates died yesterday.” They followed along into their seats next to each other, almost completing the nearly full classroom. The natural chatter of teenagers already filled the room with as much life as it possibly could, the colors coming from off of the students shining without fail. Kirishima looked back at her and shot a sheepish glance, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, yeah, but it still wasn’t a bad day. It could've been a classmate we liked,” he answered, sliding further into his seat.

“I guess yesterday was alright,” Bakugou added, pulling a notebook out of his backpack. “Shit could’ve gone all the way left.”

“I think shit did go left,” Ochako said, rolling her eyes, “The curse actually started. Mineta actually died. Why am I the only one taking this seriously?” She wrapped her arms around herself, pouting slightly.

“Because, like, fuck Mineta?” Bakugou said, shrugging. “Nobody really gave half a shit about him except for Denki, and that's probably because he's a fucking idiot.” The blonde loooked around for a pen out of his backpack, rolling his eyes when he didn't find one. He huffed, looking towards his girlfriend, who sighed before giving him the one she held in her hand. "I think Denki was the one who said fuck him yesterday, Cheeks," Bakugou tacked on, shrugging.

"I said 'Death to the bitch'. Don't put words in my mouth," Denki said, walking in the classroom and taking his headphones out of his ears.

"Is your broke ass talking to me?" Bakugou said, raising an eyebrow.

"The only broke person in the room is your girlfriend," Denki said, rolling his eyes and popping his headphones back into his ears.

"You could've left me out of it," Ochako said, turning around in her seat to look at Denki.

"And your boyfriend could have kept my name out of his mouth. I guess we all have things we could've done. Shoulda, woulda, coulda," Denki finished, sliding into his seat with an expression that screamed 'You Tried It'. In her mind, Ochako thought she was going to try him again, just so that she could get the last word in, but when she paid attention to his face, Ochako's own softened. His eyes seemed darker than normal, and she noticed thin, fine lines forming through purple bags that sat just under his eyelids. She fixed her mouth to ask about him, but she found herself unable to speak after staring at him for a moment more.

"I don't think I've ever seen him this upset," she whispered to Kirishima and Bakugou, the former of which only shook his head in response. She gave a last glance at him before continuing, "It's unnatural seeing him so down."

Kirishima nodded, saying, "Yeah, I've been knowing him forever and he's never been this sad. It's super weird." The classroom door creaked open and Shinsuo slid in, his footsteps quiet against the tile floor. Still, as quiet as he was, he couldn't help but attract the attention of everyone else in the classroom.

"It's almost like he's a main character too," Izuku said, giving a knowing look at Todoroki, who made a confused face.

"Fuck are you talking about?" he asked back, shrugging.

"You know what I'm talking about," he insisted, rolling his eyes.

"Denki's just in a sour mood," Shinshuo explain, taking the attention away from the two in the back and directing it towards himself. "Min—what happened yesterday really hit him hard and he hasn't been right since."

"Acting bitchy isn't a healthy way to deal with it," Kirishima said, throwing an understanding look towards his oldest friend, "And you know that. You can talk to me about it if it's bothering you. Or not; there's a million ways to cope."

Denki looked up at him, his dark eyes only flickering for a second. With a soft sigh, he said, "I guess I never learned how."

"You've never felt like this?" Ochako interjected, "You've never lost someone?"

"No," Denki breathed, "I've never learned to cope with an actual death."

Kirishima opened his mouth to speak, but the bell inturrupted him before he could let a single word loose. Instead, he reached a hand out and grabbed Denki's shoulder, giving him a tight squeeze. "I know we're not as close as we used to be...but you can always talk to me. Man to man. I know what it's like to lose someone close to you and I'm here for you. Always." He gave one last reassuring look towards the blonde, who nodded his head in a numb, vague gesture. Heaving a soft sigh, the redhead went back to his seat and gathered his materials for class, watching the door for their teacher to burst in. She was late most days, but he thought the death one of one of her students—though he had no reason to assume this anyway. Instead, the next person to walk through the door was none other than Momo, her hair smoothed back into a glossy ponytail and eyes rearing heavy bags.

"Your eyes are dark enough to see through the bottomless pit that is my soul," Tokoyami said, lifting his own dark eyes to look at her.

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Todoroki said, furrowing his eyes together.

"Sometimes he just says a bunch of shit to sound fake deep," Izuku replied, rolling his eyes. "You get used to it."

"It means," Tokoyami huffed, slightly irritated, "you look like you haven't slept at all last night."

"I didn't," she confirmed, gliding into her seat in the front of the classroom, "I was having a really bad night 'cause of Mineta, so Jirou came over with the strap."

"Why would she try to rob you?" Mina asked, her pink eyebrow lifted, "I thought she loved you."

"And I thought you were a dumbass," Momo said, flipping her ponytail, "I guess we're both right."

"My dad was always strapped up," Izuku added thoughtfully.

"That's why you don't have a dad," Bakugou said with a snarky snicker.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't have a dad either," Todoroki said, slinging his arm around Izuku, "he used to beat me with the strap."

"You just keep oversharing, Shouto," Izuku said, propping an eyebrow up. "I think it's a personality defect or something. You autistic or something?"

"I'm not a Gary Stu," Todoroki replied.

"And none of you know what a strap is, either," Miss Midnight said, strolling into the classroom with Iida on her hip, disappointment heavy in her throat. "It's slang for a dildo."

"What's a dildo?" Denki asked, raising his hand—not bothering to wait to be called on. "It sounds like a type of bean."

"That's pinto, stupid," Mina said, giving him a strong glare. "A dildo is a kind of instrument with strings. Like a guitar."

"That's a banjo, dumbass," Sero said, laughing, "It's a kind of rodent with a really hard shell."

"That's a fucking armadillo," Bakugou said. "All of you guys are fucking stupid. A dido is a sex toy."

"I'm sorry we're late, class!" Iida said, bowing his head before everyone and effectively changing the subject, "my brother insisted that we ride to school with him today because Mineta's passing yesterday. It can be very dangerous and he doesn't want anything to happen to us when he's not around to protect and serve." Painting a smile on his face, he confidentally strolled to the middle of class and took his seat, quickly getting out his materials and scribbling down the date. Miss Midnight followed suit, grabbing a marker and writing down the date on the white board, along with her intended lesson plans for the day—Sex Education and the History of Lesbianism. She figured if her class didn't know what a dildo was—let alone a bean, banjo, or armadillo—they needed her help.

The classroom door creaking open grabbed the class's attention and Todoroki found himself staring at the principal, who entered the classroom as quietly as he could. Nezu's footsteps barely made a sound as he tipped in, almost silently stepping on the tile and creeping to the center of the room, carrying a deep blue briefcase by his side. When all eyes were on him, he began solemnly, "I have some really terrible news, class."

"Is it about Mineta? Because we all know what happened to Mineta," Todoroki said from his spot in the back of the classroom.

"It is. And I understand that everyone knows what happened to him—some of you guys were even there to see what happened. And I'm sorry you guys had to witness that. It's something nobody should ever have to witness—"

"—I've seen worse," Todoroki replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"You shouldn't have," he said, "The job of a principal is to make my school safe. I'm supposed to make my students safe. And under my watch, a student died. This curse has killed so many people, and I know it hurts—"

"—Not really," Sero said, "The only one really sad about this is Denki, nobody else really cares."

"I don't want anyone to think that this was their fault—"

"We don't," Ochako said, "we don't blame ourselves for anything that happened to him. We didn't tell him to tag along with us, we didn't tell him to run off by himself, and we didn't tell him to get himself killed. He did all that by himself."

"And likewise, I don't want anyone to view death as something to blame others for. Think of them as acts of nature." He bent down and reached into his briefcase, pulling a knife out. With a simple flick of his wrist, he dragged it across his throat, slitting it and spilling blood across the classroom. Momo found herself especially drenched in it, spewing from his life-emptying corpse. A scream ripped from her throat as the blood seeped through her clothes, touching her and sticking to her skin.

"Are we supposed to take notes on this, Miss Midnight?" Iida asked, wiping the blood off of his glasses with his shirt. "Because this is a really big moment in history and I'd like to be prepared if it shows up on a test."

"Don't you get it?" Momo screamed, "Our principal just killed himself!"

"And it'll be for nothing if I fail this class!" Iida screamed back.

"Is no one going to call for help?" Ochako screamed.

"What is there to help?" Izuku replied, thankful for his spot at the back of the classroom and away from the corpse steadily leaking blood. "Nezu's super dead. Ain't no help for him. We might as well get an early dismissal and go home. Try this shit again tomorrow."

"Nobody's going anywhere," Miss Midnight said, standing by the door. "Tsuyu," she said, pointing to a girl with large eyes and green, blood-stained, hair, "call the police."

"No can do," the girl replied, her eyes glued to her phone, "it'll ruin my Snapchat. I gotta get the whole thing or people are going to try and say Deku, Mina, or Tokoyami killed him."

"Why is it always us?" Mina asked, bunching her brows together.

"Because you're black," Tsuyu said, "And every time something happens, the police are going to try and blame the black guys."

"Miss Midnight?" Shinsuo said, raising his hand, "I called the police when Deku started talking."

"My name is Izuku but whatever," he said, huffing and lifting his legs to lay on the seat next to him, partially to avoid the blood making it's way to the back of the classroom. "Y'all are starting to get on my nerves with this Deku shit."

"Our principal is dead!" Momo screamed, her hands balling into fist.

"So is Mineta!" Denki yelled back, crossing his arms. "People die every fucking day in this class! It can be any one of us next! Or our families! Do we honestly give a shit anymore?"

"Yeah," Mina said, under her breath, "A bitch really doesn't want to die right now."

"That's too damn bad!" Denki said, rolling his eyes. "We're all going to die. One of us is already dead. Does it really matter who?"

"Uh, yeah?" Bakugou said, "It matters a lot. I'd die for Ochako and Kirishima, so it they better not be the dead one."

"Bro, you'd die for me?" Kirishima asked, a soft expression taking over his face.

"Yeah—Don't let it go to your head."

"I'd die for you first, bro," Kirishima said, a warm smile crossing his face. "You too, Ochako."

"Please don't," she said, lifting her own feet up off of the floor. "I appreciate the thought, though."

"I appreciate you," Kirishima said. "I think I'd die for everyone in this class—except for Aoyoma. You're a little weird, fam. And Shouji. And Sato. Basically everyone that isn't an important addition to the class. Everyone else, you're all really cool and I wouldn't mind taking a bullet for you." He turned his red eyes to the unusually quiet Momo, rocking herself shakily in her chair. "You too, Momo. Even if you're a bitch sometimes."

"Then perish," Todoroki said, though he couldn't help the warm feeling bubbling in his chest. It encompassed his entire body, filling him up starting from his heart and moving outward. He let out a little shake, though it did nothing to calm his nerves and steady himself. He felt his hetrochromatic eyes wander the room, and as he looked at his classmates, the warm feeling heated itself into something greater—almost boiling over. Oh shit, he thought, letting out a shaky breath. Does he...he couldn't possibly...

like

his classmates?

His eyes fixed themselves onto Izuku, who's own green eyes were fixed onto his phone, seemingly enjoying Tsuyu's live Snapchat show. He noticed the way his phone was reflected in those bright green eyes, sparkling and highlighting the freckles that dotted his cheeks. The small smile dancing on his lips replayed over in his mind, and he swore he heard his voice over the growing sounds of sirens.

shit.

[annathewitch]

Things that go bump in the night

100 follower challenge ficlet for @starmission. Prompt “why exactly do you need chloroform at 2am?” for Leonard McCoy

Summary: Bones x reader. Reader is having trouble sleeping and is surprised at how much McCoy tries to help with the unusual problem.

Words: 3000

Warnings: teen rating for mentions of sex and swearing

A/N: sorry it’s taken so long to start getting these celebration ficlets done. I should point out that I actually wrote the first part for the celebration, and then really wanted to see what would happen next, so wrote part 2. You lucky folks get both parts! This is just silliness and fluff, but is based on a real-life problem my co-worker was having…

“Is there something particularly interesting about the door of my supply closet Lieutenant Y/L/N?”

 “Huh?” Startled out of your trance, you look at Doctor McCoy and then back at the perfectly ordinary white door, which is exactly like all the other thousands of white doors on the Enterprise.

 He inclines his head towards the closet. “You’re staring at it like it holds the answers to the meaning of the universe. If it does, you should tell the Captain, because then we can all get the hell out of here and go home.” 

You squint at him. It’s supposed to be Doctor M’Benga on duty for Gamma shift but instead you’ve got McCoy and he’s asking you about doors. “Do you have any chloroform in there?” you blurt out, and even as it leaves your mouth you know it sounds like the request of a deranged individual.

To his credit, and probably as a result of years of training to deal with idiotic questions, the doctor only raises one eyebrow and scrutinises you for a second, before asking curiously, “why exactly do you need chloroform at 2am?”

You start tapping your foot and you throw your hands up in exasperation, you might as well be honest with the man, since he probably already thinks you’re mad. “I wanted to knock myself out, okay?”

McCoy’s composure is pretty impressive. His reputation for flying off the handle at the least sign of idiocy seems undeserved, but then maybe he’s just waiting to see the full extent of your stupidity so he can determine how high to crank the dial. “Well I guess I should be relieved you’re not planning to reenact a kidnapping from some kind of pulp crime novel. Is there a reason you want to knock yourself out, or is it just for fun?”

Seriously, you reply, “Oh believe me there is nothing fun about it. I haven’t slept in, like, two weeks, and I think I’m going a little bit crazy,” whispering the last bit like it’s a secret. So you’re a bit surprised when the doctor’s mouth twitches in a smile.

“Can’t sleep huh? Come on, let’s get you checked out.” He motions towards a biobed and you hop up compliantly. “I’ve got to say there are better ways of knocking yourself out than chloroform Y/L/N, which might be why it’s been illegal for medical purposes for about a hundred years.”

“Really? Don’t get much call for anaesthetics beyond tranquilliser darts in xeno-zoology. I didn’t fancy using one of those, they sting.” You shuffle about a bit on the bed, trying to get comfortable. McCoy presses a warm hand to your shoulder.

“Keep still will you, just while I scan you.” You settle and he nods his thanks. “So is there anything you think might be stopping you sleeping properly?” He’s scrutinising the biobed readout as he asks the question.

You heave a big sigh. “Noisy sex.”

McCoy freezes and stares down at you mouth slightly open. He shakes his head slightly. “I’m sorry did you just say… uh…”

“Noisy sex. Yeah. After two weeks of it I’m just exhausted.” You close your eyes and rub the heel of your hand into the sockets. When you open them again the doctor is still staring at you, although he seems to have gone kind of red around the ears.

“Well Y/L/N,” he eventually says stiffly, “I suggest you maybe lay off the… uh… nocturnal activities and prioritise getting some actual sleep.” He turns away and busies himself with something, and it takes your foggy brain a second or two to catch up.

You sit up bolt upright and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. “Oh shit, no! Not me! I mean I practically can’t remember the last time I had sex, and it definitely wasn’t noisy. Not for me anyway. Shit. No. It’s my neighbour, they hooked up with someone a couple of weeks ago and, well, the walls are remarkably thin and they’re… vocal. It’s like having a pair of mating Sehlats next door, you know, all grunts and shrieks. So yeah. No sleep and a crazy urge to knock myself out…”

McCoy has turned around, about halfway through your unstoppable outburst, and he’s definitely reached the limits of his composure now, because his eyebrows are in his hairline and he’s red all over. He opens his mouth and closes it again.

“Too much information?” you ask quietly, mortified to have blurted all that out to the doctor.

“Yeah. Little bit.” His voice is kind of gruff and his gaze is focussed absolutely on the monitor above the bed and not on you.

“Sorry. I just really need some shut-eye. I’m getting behind at work and I really don’t want to have to explain to Commander Spock why that is.”

“No I don’t imagine you do. Mind you, he had a Sehlat as a pet, so it’s possible he’d have some idea of what you’re dealing with.” He’s looking at you now with mirth in his eyes. You can’t decide what colour they are, but they’re pretty. “Well Y/L/N, your cortisol levels are raised and your blood pressure is a bit elevated. I can give you something that will put you out for tonight, but it’s not a long-term solution. Have you tried just asking them to keep it down?”

You sigh, “Yeah, I asked and they were apologetic, but it was all like ‘oh you know how it is when you get carried away in the heat of the moment.’” Fiddling with the slightly frayed cuffs on your academy sweater, you add, “you know what? I really don’t know.”

McCoy gives a noncommittal grunt, and you realise you’re on the verge of oversharing again. You’re not quite sure why your mouth keeps running away with you around McCoy, but you’re pretty certain that this wouldn’t happen with M’Benga.

“I guess we can deal with it tomorrow. I’ll go get you those meds.” He disappears in the direction of the supply closet, and you yawn and stretch thinking that ‘we’ sounds kind of nice. The bleeps and chirps of medbay machinery are kind of hypnotic after a while and you close your eyes just for a second.

The doctor comes back a couple of minutes later, brandishing a couple of hypos. But he stops short when he sees you keeled over on your side, legs still hanging off the side of the biobed, snoring gently. For a second he just looks at you, shaking his head, then he gently picks your legs up and puts them on the bed before covering you with a blanket.

Settling down in his office, he makes sure he can see across to your bed from behind his desk, just in case you might wake up disoriented or something. He quickly types out a message to Spock to excuse you from your shift tomorrow.

It’s the following evening and you find yourself raising procrastination to a fine art. You’ve kicked Sulu’s ass at dom-jot at least ten times, and lingered in the mess hall over your dinner for over an hour, before doing an extended workout in the gym. But eventually you can’t avoid going back to your quarters to find out what incredible vocal gymnastics your neighbour and their partner will manage tonight.

You decide to use some of your water credits and have a proper shower. Maybe if you can relax enough you can get to sleep before they start. Anything to avoid having to go back to Medbay. You could honestly have hugged Doctor McCoy for signing you off for the day, but you’re also mortified at the thought of what you told him, and you’re really not sure how you’ll ever look him in the eyes again.

You’re in comfy sweats, drying off your hair and it’s still mercifully quiet on the western front, when the door chime goes. To your surprise, McCoy is there leaning with one hand on the doorframe and holding a box under the other arm. He smiles a little hesitantly, looking at the towel in your hand. “Hey, did I come at a bad time?”

It turns out looking McCoy in the eyes is easy, they’re very pretty eyes after all. It’s stringing together a coherent sentence that’s hard. “Doctor! I was just… I wasn’t expecting… what are you…” You take a breath. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He straightens up and gestures into your quarters. “Is it okay if I come in? I have something for you.”

“Sure.” You step back, trying to ignore the fact that as he brushes past you, your palms have started to get all tingly. As he’s putting the box down on your tiny counter, you excuse yourself for a minute to blast your hair dry and attempt to make yourself a bit more presentable. It occurs to you that it didn’t really matter last night when you were wandering around Medbay, half crazy with sleep deprivation.

When you emerge, the doctor has perched on one of your stools, swinging gently from side to side, and is looking around your poky living space with interest. “So, Doctor McCoy I didn’t know you did house calls?”

Spinning around to face you, he grins. “Only for special cases. Anyway I’m off duty so this isn’t a house call, and you can stop with the ‘doctor’ business. It’s Leonard, or Len. Whichever.”

You plonk yourself down on the stool opposite Leonard. “Special cases huh?”

“Well, you’ve got to admit, you’ve got a pretty unique problem. And I did say I would try and help.” You stare at McCoy in disbelief. He’d said it, but you didn’t expect him to actually do anything.

He carries on, not noticing your surprise as he picks a couple of items out of the box. “So I talked to Scotty and gave me a pair of these to try. They’re industrial grade earplugs. But, since they block out so much noise, and you’ll be sleeping, hopefully, you’ll also need this.” He unpacks a thin plastic mat. “It’s an alert system, slips right under your pillow and connects to the ships computer to vibrate and wake you if there’s a red alert.” He swings from side to side again looking pleased with himself.

“You got these for me? You really didn’t have to Doc… Leonard,” you correct yourself, and he shrugs.

“It’s nothing darlin’. I mean if it stops you having to pilfer drugs from my supply closet in the middle of the night,” he says, teasing gently. “And also I might have done some research into those… uh… Sehlats.” A faint flush spreads across the doctor’s cheeks and a smile pulls at the corner of your lips.

“You did?”

“Yeah. You said they were loud, but goddammit that was something else! Chapel thought I was dying or something and practically battered down my office door. I… had some explaining to do.” You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a laugh. McCoy looks up at you grinning again. “It might be funny to you, but I was the one who had to convince my head nurse that looking up mating Sehlats was legitimate medical research.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I’m not sure she believes me. But anyway, if that’s what you’re up against, some earplugs is the least I can do.”

The tingling feeling in your palms has spread to your stomach. You’re a little dumbfounded that he’s done all this for you, and your earlier urge to hug him has morphed into something else altogether. Together with the lingering sense of mortification, it makes you tongue-tied, and it’s all you can do to whisper some thanks.

A frown creases McCoy’s brow. “Are you okay Y/F/N? You’re awful quiet, at least compared to last night.” He studies you seriously, before clearing his throat. “I should be going anyway, don’t want to keep you up,” he offers gruffly, but you realise that’s the last thing you want.

“Leonard, don’t go.” He stills and you can feel his gaze on you even though you’re looking down at the counter. “Can you just forget ninety percent of what I said last night? I’m so embarrassed for oversharing like that.” You fiddle with the packet of the earplugs until a large hand places itself over yours and squeezes.

“Don’t feel awkward darlin’, I’ve heard so much worse.” He pauses for a second and you glance up to see him looking down at your joined hands thoughtfully before continuing, “I’ve got to be honest with you though, it kind of makes things a bit complicated. I’d really like to stay and I brought the fixings for hot chocolate McCoy family-style, in case you needed to unwind, but I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you because of your, uh… dry spell.”

He releases your hand and rubs the back of his neck. That pink tinge is back in his cheeks and for some reason it gives you the courage to blurt out, “If you stay, I was going to watch a holo. And hot chocolate sounds… really good.”

With his smile it’s like the tingling sensation in your stomach metamorphoses into full-grown butterflies the size of the Andorian giants in the lab. You agree on a movie, and McCoy makes the drinks. It turns out a generous slug of bourbon is the secret ingredient in his family recipe, and you can’t argue with how amazing it tastes.

You settle down on the couch, which is too small for you not to be pressed right up against each other given the size of the doctor’s frame. He sprawls his legs out in front of him, and stretches his arm out along the back of the cushion behind you. As you relax a bit with the idea of him, you lean in and he drops his hand to your shoulder.

You’re about half an hour through the film when you hear the sound of voices next door. You can feel yourself tense and so can McCoy as he glances down at you before pulling you a tiny bit closer and rubbing soft circles across your back with his thumb. “Thanks,” you mumble, breathing in deeply and finding some comfort in his warm clean smell.

But it’s not long before things start to escalate into a gradual crescendo from moans and panting into thumps, and groans and bitten off curses. “Did they make these damned walled out of paper,” McCoy mutters.

“I don’t know, but it gets worse.” You wince as the thumping becomes the rhythmic bang of furniture against the wall and the doctor’s eyebrow shoots up. This continues for what seems like an age, until it reaches a peak of full blown shouts and shrieks and one long drawn out scream.

“You weren’t kidding darlin’,” McCoy says, looking incredulously at the wall between your quarters and next door. “ I thought they were knocking through at one point.”

“Yeah, well that was round one. They might end up crashing through the wall before they’re done tonight. Though I doubt that would stop them.”

“So it’s like this all night?” He gets up to pour you both a glass of the neat bourbon.

You nod. “Every time I doze off, they’re ready to go again.” You attempt a grin at McCoy as he hands you the drink, “I mean you have to admire their stamina.”

“And I thought living with Jim in the academy was bad.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You should try the earplugs next time, see if they help.”

You turn your attention back to the holo, and curl in beside him. You have one hand pressed on his chest feeling the steady rise and fall, and his arm is wrapped around you with his hand absently trailing gentle strokes up and down your side. You feel his cheek resting on the top of your head and the gentle tickle of his breath in your hair.

It’s quiet for now, just the sound of the holo and McCoy’s breathing, until he inhales deeply and mumbles, “Y/F/N, your hair smells incredible darlin’.” You twist to look up at him and he’s got this soft kind of disbelieving expression on his face. Biting your lip, you look into his mossy eyes before tracing down the angles of his nose, to gaze at his full, slightly chapped lips. Hazily, you wonder how they would feel on yours. He swallows and you glance up, to see him equally fascinated by your mouth. Huffing a whiskey-scented breath he leans closer…

“Oh baby, YES! Just like that!”

You jump apart, startled by the shout from next door, which is followed by the sound of someone kicking the wall and the now familiar moans and groans quickly begin to build. “Goddammit!” McCoy hisses, running his hands through his hair. You look at each other and the moment has passed.

Quelling your disappointment, you get up and grab the packet of earplugs. “Guess it’s time to try these then.” The doctor is sat there looking thunderously at the wall. “Leonard?” you ask tentatively.

He hits pause on the holo and leaps to his feet, pacing towards you and back to the couch again a couple of times. All the while the volume of shrieks intensifies. Eventually he seems to have come to some kind of decision because he turns to you and grasps you by your shoulders. “Fuck the earplugs Y/F/N, this is goddamned ridiculous.” He plants a kiss on the top of your head before storming out the door.

Stunned, it’s a second before you gather your wits to follow him, and by then he’s outside your neighbour’s door, hand slamming on the door chime. There’s no appreciable reduction in the activity from inside and so McCoy mutters something incomprehensible before hammering a fist on the door.

Suddenly there’s silence.

He hammers again, this time following it by bellowing, “this is Doctor McCoy. It sounds like you’re in considerable pain in there. I need you to open the door for me so I can confirm your status.” He looks along the corridor at you and winks. He’s actually enjoying this, and judging by the heads poking out of doors further up the corridor, he’s not the only one.

When there’s still no sign of the door being opened, he hammers one more time. “I need you to open the door for me in ten seconds, or I’ll assume you’re incapacitated and I will use my medical override to gain access. Ten, nine, eight, seven…” he doesn’t even get to six before the door swishes open and your red faced neighbour is there wrapped in a sheet.

“Uh… Is there a problem Doctor?”

“Lieutenant Y/L/N and I were trying to enjoy a quiet evening with a movie and a drink, but it sounded like someone was having their limbs ripped off by a damned Gorn next door! Frankly I was expecting to find you splattered in bits around your quarters.” McCoy’s eyebrows are at full mast and your neighbour is looking a bit queasy.

“We’ll… try to keep it down in future, sir.”

The doctor scowls murderously. “You see that you do, or I’ll slap a curfew on your sorry asses so fast it’ll make your head spin. And I won’t give you the courtesy of a warning before using my override to do it. Dismissed.” You stifle a giggle at the sight of your neighbour attempting to stand to attention in their sheet, before McCoy spins on his heels and strides back to your door.

He grabs your hand and pulls you over to the couch to sit back down beside him. He knocks back the last of his bourbon and turns the holo back on. “So where exactly were we?” he asks gruffly as he slides his arms back around you and pulls you against the solid warmth of his chest.

“I believe I was gazing adoringly at you and hoping you’d kiss me.” You tilt your head up and grin as you feel a hand slide up your back to cradle the side of your face.

“Oh yeah, you were biting those pretty lips and I just wanted to taste them” he murmurs as he leans in. Heat pools in your stomach only to burst into fire in your veins as your lips meet. It’s slow at first, then you’re moving your mouths more desperately and you’re nipping at his pouty bottom lip with your teeth. He growls and presses harder, and you open your lips to his tongue. Somewhere in the back of your mind, as he shifts you both so that he’s half lying and you’re sitting across his lap, feeling sparks where his hand has slid up under your sweater to swirl lazy circles on the skin at the small of your back, you think this might be the best damn kiss you’ve ever had.

When you eventually come up for air, you press your fingers to your tingling lips and smile. McCoy grins back at you lazily and catches your hand, kissing the tips of each finger before placing it on his chest under his. “That’s better.”

“I can’t believe you actually did that. I mean are you allowed to use your override like that?”

The doctor looks wide-eyed with mock innocence. “I only threatened to use it. Though even the mountain of paperwork if I did use it would have been worth it darlin’.”

“You know I kind of feel a bit sorry for them,” you muse, resting your head against his shoulder. “I mean they’re pretty lucky to find someone who makes them feel that good.”

“You really never had that before huh?” McCoy’s voice rumbles through his chest, and you shake your head. “Well that’s a damned shame. Someone really ought to do something about that.”

It’s comfortable and warm in your Leonard cocoon, with his arms wrapped around you and your face buried in his neck, breathing in that soothing smell. You close your eyes just for a minute as you murmur your agreement.

“If you like, my legendary hands are at your disposal,” he adds with a chuckle, expecting you to laugh in return. “Y/F/N?” He peers down at you, but all he can see is the top of your head. “Y/L/N?” He feels a sigh of breath as you exhale, and the sound of a gentle snore. “Maybe next time,” he says smiling at the sound.

He shuffles carefully, trying to move you both into a more comfortable position without disturbing you until eventually he’s lying on the tiny couch with you on top of him. Then, with a rush of tenderness, he wraps his arms around you more securely and closes his eyes.

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[regular-lord-reckoner]

i’ve been thinking about that “sorry i haven’t talked to you, it’s not because i hate you it’s because i’m depressed” post but seriously like...

something to know about me i guess is (shockingly!) my self worth is uh...so not good that i LITERALLY feel like i bother anyone i initiate a conversation with 

or...have a conversation with, period 

if i’ve ever messaged anyone first just know i typed out what i wanted to say probably ten different times before i sent it and that’s AFTER i agonized about it in my head for a while 

obviously there are exceptions at times, sometimes i’ll just...do the damn thing, but then immediately spiral into a panic of “oh god, oh god i bet i’m bothering them. oh shit, they’re rolling their eyes reading this, aren’t they? this person probably fucking hates me right now and is only responding to be polite. abort, abort, abort” 

it’s also why sometimes it takes me literal days to respond to a message or a comment and again...not always, but...it’s become more frequent because i’m just like...i’m probably going to make an ass out of myself or say something really dumb or just bore this person to death, i’ve gotta...go 

and i can be reassured time and time and time again that “no, i love hearing from you!!!” or “i wish we talked more!!!” but it still just...doesn’t get through 

i was downstairs telling my mom about the book i was reading and...logically i know she’s just tired from a long day and probably just wants some time alone to de-stress and relax, but in my brain it’s like “you’re getting on her nerves, she wants you to shut up, what you’re talking about isn’t interesting in the slightest and she’s only pretending to listen, just shut up and walk away” which is...more or less what i did. not just mid-conversation but just “yeah, so i thought that was interesting anyway good night!” and bailed 

and that’s all probably mmm...not great and yet another reason i should get professional help with all my bs but i dunno if i’m ever going to completely shake that feeling of “yikes, i need to stop talking and disappear before i make this person want to kill me” 

it’s also why it’s actually pretty hard for me to like...share my interests with people??? 

i mean i do i’m not saying i just bottle everything up and keep everything to myself and especially the closer you are to me, the more comfortable i am with it but even then i’m always dying on the inside like “oh boy oh boy oh boy this sucks doesn’t it? this sucks and everyone hates it and i’m torturing everyone with this i must LEAVE”

and also tbh this is why i don’t...have more interests??? 

because if you don’t like things you...don’t have to talk about them or even feel like you want to share them anybody, i guess it’s simpler that way

i also feel like i’m...literally too stupid or too uncultured or too just...i don’t even know to enjoy a lot of things so i just...don’t 

obviously i’m not just recycling the same things over and over again, i’ve picked up new things here and there along the way, but for the most part i’d rather just...revisit something i already know because i already know i like it and it’s simpler that way 

then again i also think being depressed plays a part in this as well because it’s just...hard for me a lot of the time to immerse myself into something new, especially if it’s recommended to me and i know that’s super duper shitty because people are excited to share something and want to see my reaction but that...expectation, i guess, stresses me out to the point where i’ll put it off for years sometimes because i’m like...if i don’t get it or don’t like it or whatever i’m not...good enough 

and i know that’s...really dumb, that’s a real bad way of looking at things and it’s something i’ve had to remind myself of constantly like...just because someone doesn’t like something you do, no matter how attached to it you feel, it’s not a rejection of you and it’s not that deep, but i worry that that’s what it means and that if i don’t end up liking that thing it’s like...a negative reflection on me, i guess? 

like...if i read a book someone recommended to me and i didn’t get it or i didn’t think it was that good, that person’s gonna be like, “mmm, i see, you’re too stupid to understand it” which is...probably true, tbh but i just...i dunno 

this is such a mess and probably makes zero sense, but i just keep thinking about it and i dunno 

i know i’m not the only person in the entire world who feels like this, i’ve reblogged enough content with enough likes that tells me other people are in this same boat (or have been at some point) so it’s not like “woah, this is so strange can you believe???” it’s just more so like...wow, anna. get help. your brain isn’t very good at its job and you seem stressed about it and yes, yes i am 

i have a tendency to take things that are supposed to be fun and light-heartened and, via my mental illnesses just...turn it into something way more serious and way less fun than it should ever be and...funnily enough, in the process make other people put out or, if nothing else, i distract from the fun part and that...sucks 

i feel like lately especially with...whatever the hell is going on with me i’m always on edge, always ready to just collapse into tears over the dumbest shit, and my self-worth feels like it’s at an all-time low even though i’m sure there have been times i’ve felt worse about myself but those were...real dark times so i dunno...how much better by comparison i really am but lately everything frustrates me and i feel like i can’t do anything right and that even the smallest, most insignificant mistakes are the end of the world even though they’re most definitely not, but it’s such a hard feeling to shake even when i see that the world doesn’t come to an end it’s still just...overwhelming kinda? 

needless to say this is...why i don’t put myself out there, why i don’t message people first, why i prefer to just...well, do shit like this where i throw things out into the void but i guess it makes me feel a teeny tiny bit better just getting it somewhat out of my head but at the same time i’m probably...oversharing and when all i ever do is talk about these problems but then never actually do anything about it i...make myself into a frustrating person that honestly i...don’t think i’m really all that missed when i don’t message people or reach out to people and that’s not a guilt trip, that’s completely on me like...nobody wants to put up with that person who’s just miserable but won’t lift a finger to help themselves so i guess the conclusion to this ted talk is...i’m sorry if you’ve ever gotten the impression that i don’t care or that i’m distant or just...anything like that whatsoever it’s just...i barely feel like a person anymore and i’ve just been doing a real good job of pretending like i am one because survival skills but i um...i dunno. i’m a mess and i apologize and hopefully will get my shit together one day?? we’ll see 

[isroselalondebisexual]

What do you think Jade Lalonde, Rose Harley, and Dave Egbert would be like? I've already seen some analysis on John Strider so i don't wanna force you into rehasing anything ^^;

Jade Lalonde, my girl Jade raised by a Permissive parent, probably wouldn’t look toooooooo terribly different from canon Jade. Her interests are well financed, and she’s a good self-motivator, which is probably good because showing off her achievements to a drunken parent isn’t going to get the same response as a coherent parent. Of course, Mom is super proud of her brilliant daughter, and of COURSE she loves her super duper dearly and thinks Jade is the most intelligent girl alive, but it can get a little frustrating for Jade to explain her interests, and then ten minutes later realize her mom hasn’t retained a word. This Jade’s gonna be more acclimated to frustration and broken expectations, which is gonna manifest itself in two ways. She’s not gonna respond much at all when she’s disappointed, sometimes by really major things that she SHOULD get pissed off about, or she’s going to blow the fuck up over seemingly minor shit that most people would be able to brush off. But it’s more about the principle of the thing than the actual expectation that got broken, y’know? Probably gonna be sneakier than canon Jade, able to manipulate the situation to get her mom to actually DO stuff she needs her to, whether that be through passive aggression or batting her eyelids or setting up a situation so her mom “conveniently” will be reminded of certain things, and that’s gonna carry over into her other relationships as well, entirely unintentionally at first, that’s just sorta how she’s used to operating. Her role, then, as the Witch of Light, combined with that naturally honed ability to manipulate the situation with intelligence and a calculated amount of luck, is going to be one that comes naturally to her, and she’s going to be a HELLRAISER. She’s going to be UNPARALLELED. There will be no imp nor ogre nor time travelling demon who spits destruction from his maw that will be able to stand against her. She’s here, she’s brilliant, and she and her friends will be catching no unlucky breaks because she is the one whose will Luck bends to.

Rose Harley, raised by a dog and some chess people, alone on an island. Probably gets pretty entrenched in her know it all bossy phase pretty quick, but is less sure of herself. Doesn’t get a lot of positive feedback aside from her dog and some chess people who she’s pretty sure she’s smarter than, but that makes human interaction even harder for her, and she’s never really been good at interpersonal stuff to begin with. Lots of false confidence, I think, but suffers from impostor syndrome pretty badly. She WANTS to belong in the group, she really really wants to be involved and included and someone who BELONGS there, but can’t shake the nagging feeling that everyone else is a regular human being and she’s. Weird. And not in a good way. Gonna be more anxious than her canon counterpart, I think. Her favorite books she’s read 1000 times over and she’s got SUPER in-depth thoughts and analysis for the stuff she takes interest in, a very very brilliant girl who is never sure when “sharing” becomes “oversharing” and when “odd in a fun way” becomes “Rose that’s creepy.” Her role as the Seer of Space goes along well with being awake on Prospit prior to the Game even starting, as she has dealt with visions of the future all her life. Unfortunately, since space is all-encompassing, she’s not seeing what is fortuitous, or what WILL happen, or even what SHOULD happen, she’s seeing what happens in pretty much any timeline anywhere and it’s her task to sit down, think about what she’s Seen, and parse together whether they should or shouldn’t take that path. Her honed analytical skills will be pushed to their limits and brought to task over and over again, but through her smarts and what she has Foreseen, she is able to direct their group and conduct them in such a way that the new universe is spawned and they are able to win. The fact that she is SO CRUCIAL to their success helps her feel more like part of the group, but presents a NEW problem of wondering if maybe now they’re just pretending to be interested in her for her abilities. Her big hurdle is allowing herself to see that she is loved and wanted, and she truly does belong with them.

Dave Egbert is a kinda nerdy dude, he takes his camera with him everywhere and is always taking selfies or posting stuff to his instagram and did you hear? I heard someone say he has a collection of like, roadkill or something. Dave absolutely has a collection of dead shit. Also cicada shells that show up on the trees and bushes, because hey man cicada shells are cool. He’s super into his dumb nerd shit like video games and even reads that dumb gamebro magazine that he damn well KNOWS is dumb but he likes it and he’s not embarrassed about his interests! He knows the stuff he likes isn’t cool and doesn’t try to pass it off as cool, he just enjoys himself and fuck the haters. He ADORES his dad, was definitely one of those kids that began crying the MOMENT his dad dropped him off at daycare or smth, very attached but also complains about him sometimes, because kids complain about their parents, especially since Dad Egbert is the type of dude to walk up in front of his kid’s friends and use the embarrassing toddler nicknames like “sport” or “squirt” or smth and Dave’s friends are like “lmao your dad actually calls you ‘sport’ I thought that only happened in movies” and Dad also has like, a wallet full of Dave’s pictures and Dave is just like “daaaaaad” but also heck yes he was an ADORABLE baby so he sorta thrives off the attention. Has the biggest, dumbest crush on John imaginable. Dad found out Dave was queer not because Dave came out, but because Dave is just SO OBVIOUS about his stupid giant big dumb crush on John and Dad just sorta… quietly accepted this about his son and tries to be a good parent however he can. He’s not the most well-educated about queer stuff but he always tries his best to be respectful and that goes doubly now that he knows his kid isn’t straight. Dave having a supportive parent is a very good concept and one I am wholly behind in literally every way. His role as Knight of Breath is the defender of freedom, which probably means he must first liberate his consorts from his denizen, and then has to go a step further to protect his friends, probably from their own neuroses. Jade thinks she has to leap through all these mental hoops, but she doesn’t, Rose thinks she has to PROVE her worth, that she’s valuable, but Dave would love his sister even if she couldn’t do anything for them, John has been trapped in this toxically masculine, angry place for years and Dave can help him out of there, help him find peace and acceptance even within himself, Dave can pry back the dark gunk that’s been coating John’s soul and let him breathe freely, possibly for the first time in his life.

John Strider, we’ve touched on so I’ll just go over briefly here, but I like to keep these asks done in sets and now that I’ve set a pattern I’m not breaking it. John would end up one of those nasty, nasty, angry bullies. Bro is toxic, abusive, hypermasculine, and unpredictable, which means John winds up angry, lashing out, and hypermasculine as well. He goes way too far, way too often, and doesn’t apologize, total jock stereotype from oldtimey movies and shit, strong and athletic and attractive and just plain mean. Acts like he’s hot shit because whenever he’s at home he’s painfully reminded that he is small, and weak, and can’t actually do anything. Dave is his bro and he likes him plenty but he makes a lot of mean spirited gay jokes to start, probably as a cover for his own identity crisis that he has buried so deep deep down inside him you’re gonna need a shovel to unbury that shit, and is oblivious to Dave’s crush on him. Has a soft spot for Jade, who is kinda the only person who can get John to talk about his feelings frankly and honestly, and probably has a crush on Rose because he thinks that that’s what he’s supposed to do. She’s a girl, she’s his friend, that’s how heterosexuality works, right? His role as Heir of Time, I’m afraid, would be a deeply unpleasant one. What would likely happen is he directs the alpha timeline by having his offshoot timeline selves merge with his alpha self, like what Rose did from Davesprite’s timeline back in canon. But instead of just, like, ONE offshoot timeline self merging with the whole, it’s every single dead John. Every single time his friends die, he dies, every time something goes wrong, he gets to Experience that. He gets to have those memories seared into his brain, one with himself, one with every timeline that has ever existed, and it only further cements his belief that life is cruel, and uncaring, and doesn’t give a single solitary shit about him, or his loved ones, because he does love them. He’s broken inside, all warped and twisted wrong, but he does love them. It is only, and I do mean ONLY, once he and Dave manage to have their heart-to-heart, once John allows Dave in, that John is able to slowly pry out of the dark and hurting place that has stifled his soul for so long. Not to be stupidly, ridiculously cliche, but it is love that frees him, and the love between the two of them that helps him heal. John Strider and Dave Egbert would be a nigh-inevitable otp like that’s just the way this AU would work out my dudes.

*sticks m leggy out* I love getting long winded and these are fun, please share your thoughts with me my dudes.