#this sort of thinking is why i firmly believe some characters should just keep digging and getting worse. muahahaha

[t00thpasteface]

sorry for dissecting a narrative like an animal to reveal how all the muscles and bones flex and pull against each other as a unified whole with a predetermined niche it must fill within the cultural ecosystem as it interacts with other narrative-organisms. it will happen again

[nicknellie]

Anonymous requested: Could I request willex fake dating au, maybe the boys are trying to get Alex a boyfriend and so he asks Willie to fake date him to get the boys off his back or something please!

Anon, I love fake dating AUs, I’m beyond glad that you suggested this. Plus with willex I think fake dating is very in character, especially for Alex. I had a lot of fun writing this one, thank you for your request! I’m sorry it took me so long to get round to writing it, but to make up for it I’ve made it longer than most of my other fics.

A Dream Come True

Alex had to hand it to them – when Luke and Reggie wanted something, they really pushed for it. Normally it would be one of the many things he loved about the two of them. Determination, perseverance, resilience, all good qualities. And when they put their minds towards something useful like booking Julie and the Phantoms a gig or dragging Willie out of the washing machine when he got stuck in it playing hide and seek, they were definitely useful to have around. So usually, Alex loved their pushiness.

He just didn’t like it when it was aimed at him. Even less so when they were trying (for the umpteenth time that month) to get him a boyfriend.

And the worst part was that this time Alex had run out of excuses.

For reasons Alex simply couldn’t fathom, Luke and Reggie had been obsessed with the idea of finding him a boyfriend for some weeks now. Reggie had downloaded several dating apps and entered all of Alex’s information, and every time Alex saw him the first thing Reggie would do was reel off a list of several candidates he’d deemed worthy. Luke, ever the technophobe (or rather just terrible with technology), had taken a more natural approach and spent countless hours wandering the streets of Hollywood for someone who was, in his words, ‘the sort of guy who would make Alex lose his goddamn mind’.

It wasn’t that Alex didn’t appreciate them trying to make him happy – he found it sweet, if a little weird – it was just that he knew nobody they found would ever be right. He knew what he was looking for, he knew what he wanted, and he didn’t think that Luke and Reggie could get it for him.

The first time they had tried to send him on a date Alex had faked a cold and pulled out at the last minute. The second time he had “accidentally” shown up to the wrong location and missed the entire thing. The third time he simply hadn’t gone – instead, he turned off all the lights in his house, locked all the doors and windows, and hid, so when he didn’t show up and Luke and Reggie came over looking for him they assumed he was out. The fourth time and most recent time he had pretended to fall asleep when they told him about it.

Alex wasn’t the most creative of people and he had pretty much exhausted all of his go-to date-dodging tactics. So the fifth time his friends tried to set him up, he completely panicked.

“So I was doing my usual lap of Sunset Boulevard this morning,” Luke said in lieu of a greeting the moment he walked into Julie’s garage. “And Alex, dude, bro, you will not believe the guy I saw.”

“Good morning to you to,” Alex said flatly.

Luke wrinkled his nose like the greeting confused him, but then saw Julie setting up her mic in the corner. A bright smile grew on his face as he was distracted and for a moment Alex thought he might have been lucky enough to get out of the conversation. But a moment later, Reggie entered the studio and also decided that greetings weren’t a necessity.

“Luke! Did you tell Alex about the guy yet?”

Julie snickered (she found the whole thing much funnier than Alex did and he most certainly did not appreciate it) and for a moment more Luke continued to just look at her, absolutely besotted, but then he came to his senses and all of a sudden his excited smile was directed at Alex.

“Right, that. So I ran into him outside the Orpheum, so he’s probably a music guy,” Luke gushed, winking in a way that Alex supposed was meant to be suggestive. “We had a little chat and he told me he’s training as a teacher and is also looking for someone to settle down with.”

“Sometimes I worry about you,” Alex said, laying a gentle hand on Luke’s arm. “You’re getting forgetful. I’m not looking to settle down with anyone.”

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Luke shrugged Alex’s arm off and instead planted his own hands firmly on Alex’s shoulders, shaking him a little. “Maybe not, but that might change when you meet this guy.”

“I doubt it. What’s his name?”

“Oscar. Maybe Oliver. Orville? I don’t know, but it definitely began with an ‘o’.”

“He sounds memorable,” Alex deadpanned. “I’m sure we’ll have a great time together.”

Reggie gasped excitedly. “So you’ll meet up with him then?”

“No,” Alex said firmly.

Julie giggled again (and once again Luke looked at her, dazzled). “Why not, Alex? You sounded so enthusiastic about him!”

“Very funny,” he returned. “I’m not meeting him.”

“Why not?” Luke whined, dragging the words out like a frustrated toddler. “You always do this! Reg and I try to set you up with people but you always say you don’t want to. Are we missing something?”

Alex could see the cogs whirring in Reggie’s mind before his face lit up and he triumphantly guessed, “Or are we missing someone?”

If anyone had asked, Alex wouldn’t have been able to give a reason for what he said next. It was completely untrue, a wild statement made under extreme pressure in the face of an emergency. Perhaps it was a bad decision, but he had run out of excuses to not meet people and he was getting desperate. He hadn’t had time to consider it.

Alex said, “Yes.”

Reggie’s jaw dropped, Julie dropped her microphone, and Luke dropped whatever respect he had left for Alex’s personal boundaries. He launched himself at Alex, tackling him to the floor in what he assumed was supposed to be a hug, and Alex was fairly certain that Luke was crying with happiness.

“Dude!” he shouted (though it was rather muffled since he had his face buried in Alex’s shirt). “That’s awesome news! Reggie and I can stop searching! I didn’t think you’d be able to find someone yourself, bro.”

“Thanks for having so much confidence in me,” Alex said flatly as he extricated himself from Luke’s vice grip and hoisted himself to his feet.

“You’re welcome,” Luke said as he wiped his eyes (yes, he was actually crying happy tears).

Julie had her arms crossed in front of her chest, looking half-puzzled and half-affronted. “You’re seeing someone? And you didn’t tell me? The only one of your friends who is even a little bit good at keeping a secret?”

“Hey,” Reggie interrupted, “I’m good at keeping secrets!”

“Reggie, honey, I love you but at Christmas you told everyone what you’d bought them as soon as you’d bought it.”

Reggie looked like he wanted to defend himself but couldn’t. “I was excited to see everyone’s reactions…”

Rolling her eyes fondly, Julie turned back to Alex. “Anyway – why didn’t you tell me?”

While he was a terrible liar, Alex just so happened to be a very good actor. In high school he’d got the lead role in the school play two years in a row, but whenever someone asked him if he was gay (before he had come out) he would often panic and pretend to faint to get out of the situation. Though he was technically telling a lie here, he decided it would be the prime opportunity to employ some of the improvisational skills he had worked on with Carrie back in their theatre club.

“It was all very new,” he explained, “we weren’t sure if it was going to go anywhere and we didn’t want to tell everyone until we were sure.”

It was only at this point that Alex realised he was digging a very deep hole for himself and it was most certainly too late to climb out of it now.

“When do we get to meet him?” Reggie asked excitedly.

“You already have,” Alex replied.

A little voice in the back of his mind was saying, shut up, you absolute idiot, what the hell are you playing at? Perhaps stupidly, he drowned that voice out.

Looking dumbfounded, Luke clutched Alex’s shoulders again. “We have? Who is it?”

The little voice got louder – don’t say it, Alex, I’m begging you not to say it, it’s like you’re actively trying to ruin your own life, you absolute–

“Willie.”

In eery synchrony, Luke, Julie, and Reggie all looked to each other with identical expressions of shock and bewilderment and then turned back to Alex with furrowed brows.

“Willie?” they all chorused.

Alex pursed his lips and rocked on the balls of his feet, suddenly regretting every decision he’d made that had brought him to this point in his life. “Yep.”

“I thought your thing with him finished like six months ago?” Julie said.

“Well, there wasn’t really much of a thing to finish,” Reggie reasoned, “just Alex’s pining from afar that had lasted for like four years–”

“Yes, thank you, Reginald,” Alex interrupted. It wasn’t that Reggie was wrong, Alex just didn’t like how right he was. “And yeah, it did… I guess. But then we were hanging out together a few months ago and it was really nice and we started doing it more often and eventually he asked me on a date.”

Alex was overly aware that every word he had just said was an utter lie. Firstly, he had never really got over Willie – Willie wasn’t the sort of person you could just forget or move on from, even though Alex had never actually dated him. Secondly, Alex and Willie hadn’t actually hung out together alone in quite a while. Willie had been busy with their blossoming art career, going to different presentations and awards shows, trying to make a name for himself; Alex, on the other hand, had been doing his best to avoid dating anyone. And thirdly, Willie had never once asked Alex on a date.

He knew he should have backtracked, told them the truth, but he was in far too deep.

“This has been going on for a few months?” Luke said incredulously. “How have you kept it from us that long? Dude, you just let Reggie and I spend literally all our free time trying to find you a boyfriend!”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“You could have told us to stop,” Reggie said.

“I did,” Alex returned. “Several times.”

Julie raised her hands placatingly. “Okay, okay. That’s not important right now. What’s important is that Alex and Willie are finally together. Are you sure they’ll be alright with you telling us while he’s not here?”

Alex shrugged, trying to act like he wasn’t too sure (which was easy because he’d never been less sure of anything at any time in his life). “Umm… well… we haven’t really talked about it much, but… you know, I’m sure he won’t mind too much. I’ll tell them tonight.”

Julie smiled warmly. “Well, I’m happy for you in any case. It’s nice that you’ve finally got what you wanted for so long.”

“Amen to that,” Luke said, finally picking up his guitar. Alex had all but forgotten they were supposed to be practising instead of talking about his very fake relationship with Willie which Willie didn’t even know about. “And Reg and I can finally stop looking for someone.”

“Could’ve stopped before you’d even started,” Alex said, sitting down behind his drumkit, “but alright.”

He knew that sooner or later he would have to tell Willie what he’d done and he was absolutely dreading it. Willie was a very chill person and Alex knew they’d probably find it funny more than anything, but it was still a daunting prospect. But for now, he focused himself on his drums, hammering out all of that excess anxiety, and forgetting the absolute nightmare he’d created for himself just for a little bit.

*

It was nearing one o’clock in the morning and Alex was very much not ready to go to sleep. For one thing, he was still wearing his clothes instead of pyjamas, and for another he was pacing his room like a caged lion with anxiety and had been doing so for almost three hours. He was trying to build up the courage to call Willie and let him know what had gone on, but he was so nervous that he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to string a sentence together if Willie picked up the phone.

He knew he would just have to bite the bullet. He couldn’t put it off forever or it would end in disaster. For the thousandth time he reminded himself that Willie was the kindest, funniest, most good-natured person he knew and that he had nothing to be scared of when it came to telling them that he had made a massive, probably damning mistake. Willie would be fine with it, Alex knew.

Before he could dwell on it a second longer, Alex dialled Willie’s number and let it ring.

It only rang twice before Willie picked up. Even though it was late, Alex had known Willie would pick up (the guy hardly slept at all) and he fought the urge to tell him to go to bed.

“Morning,” Willie said chirpily.

Alex checked the time and blinked in surprise; he hadn’t realise how long he’d been pacing for.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he said. “How come you’re still awake?”

“Mario Kart,” they replied. Alex could practically hear Willie’s smile – suddenly there were butterflies in his already anxious stomach and they certainly weren’t helping. “Why are you still awake? I thought your bedtime was half nine.”

“It hasn’t been in two years and you know that,” Alex said. Willie giggled brightly which teased a smile out of Alex. “I, uh… I actually need to talk to you about something that happened today.”

Just get on with it, he told himself, don’t drag it out.

“Oh?” Willie said. “What is it? You sound nervous – do you need me to come over?”

“No,” Alex told him, “it’s late – or maybe early. Either way, you don’t need to come all the way to my place just so I can tell you this.”

“It sounds serious.”

“It might be,” Alex admitted. “It depends on how you take it.”

There was a brief silence on the other end and for a moment Alex wondered if Willie had decided to end the conversation, but then they said, “Alright, let me just pause the game.”

Another short pause as Willie stopped mid-race. Alex took the opportunity to collect himself, shake out his nerves. It would be fine. Willie would be fine with it.

“Okay,” he said a moment later. “I’m back. What’s going on, hotdog?”

Alex scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, suddenly unsure where to start.

“Okay,” he began uncertainly. “Well… Luke and Reg have been trying to set me up with someone for a while now and I’ve been trying to avoid it as much as I can. I’ve sort of run out of excuses and you know how difficult it is for me to say no to them.”

Willie hummed knowingly. “Like with the Great Cactus Robbery of 2019.”

Alex winced at the memory – he hadn’t realised cactus spikes hurt quite that much, but he’d gone through with a lot that night for Luke and Reggie’s sake.

“Don’t remind me,” he said witheringly. “Anyway, you know what I’m talking about then. They told me about another guy earlier today and I really needed another excuse to give them. I tried just point-blank telling them no, but then they started asking questions and…”

“And?” Willie prompted.

“I told them I was seeing someone,” Alex said. There was silence on the other end. “I told them I was seeing you.”

After a moment or two (that felt like an eternity) Willie burst out laughing. Alex sighed, affronted, but he supposed it was one of the better reactions he could have got. At least Willie wasn’t angry at him.

“Why?” Willie wheezed between laughs. “Was that seriously the first thing that came to your mind?”

“Yes,” Alex grumbled. “I was under a lot of pressure. You were the obvious choice.”

They giggled happily and Alex realised just how true those words had been – whether he liked it or not, Willie would always be the obvious choice for him.

“Well, I’m flattered,” they told him, blatantly trying to contain their giggles. “Thank you for thinking of me, hotdog.”

“You’re welcome,” Alex said. “But I’m sorry about it too. I’ve created an absolute mess and dragged you into it, so I understand if you’re angry at me.”

“Does it sound like I’m angry at you?”

“No?”

“That’s because I’m not,” Willie said kindly. “I get it, man, you just panicked. No big deal. Besides, we can ride this out easily.”

Alex blinked. “We can?”

“Sure, man, it’ll be fun. We’ll pretend to date for a few weeks, have a friendly breakup, and then everything can go back to normal.”

“You’re sure?” Alex checked. This hadn’t been what he was expecting – he’d thought Willie would say it didn’t matter but he needed to come clean. He hadn’t been expecting the offer of dating.

Fake dating, said that irritating little voice in his head. It’s not real. Don’t let yourself forget that.

“Of course I’m sure,” they said. “I mean, it’s totally cool if you don’t want to, but surely it’ll be easier than backtracking completely with the others. And it’ll get Reggie and Luke off your back for a little while longer.”

He considered it, weighing up the pros and cons. On one hand, he’d get to date Willie at last, something he’d wanted to do since he met him. It would give them more of a chance to hang out together, Luke and Reggie would stop pestering him, and it was always fun to harmlessly mess with his friends. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure his sentimental little heart could stand getting to date Willie and then having him taken away even if that was the arrangement from the very start.

But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“Alright,” he said resolutely. “I’m in.”

“Cool,” Willie returned happily. “Shall we meet tomorrow to discuss, you know, like, boundaries and stuff like that?”

“Sounds great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He heard Willie press play on his game, the unmistakable sound of an item box being broken on Mario Kart.

“See you tomorrow, Alex,” Willie said. “Or maybe now we’re dating I should be calling you ‘babe’ or something.”

If that made Alex’s heart flutter, he wouldn’t say anything about it. “We’ll go over pet names tomorrow. Goodnight, Willie.”

“Goodnight, babe.”

As Alex put his phone down and launched himself into bed (still fully clothed but suddenly far too tired to even consider getting changed) he thought to himself that there probably couldn’t have been a better outcome.

*

Alex had expected the meeting with Willie to feel awkward and weirdly formal, but it was completely the opposite. Both of them were in high spirits the whole time, jokingly holding hands and making heart eyes at each other, laughing every time one of them used a particularly ridiculous pet name for the other. (When Alex had called Willie ‘sugarpoops’ he had thought they might die from laughing.)

But the meeting was productive too. They set some effective boundaries – any touching was allowed, just not too intimate; kissing was fine, but only to prove a point; and just for the fun of it they agreed they had to act like the most sickeningly in-love couple the world had ever known. Alex didn’t really care if that would give the whole thing away, it seemed like a bit of fun and it would be useful when it came to reminding himself that none of this was actually real.

That bit, he had to admit, still stung.

He and Willie had arranged to meet Luke, Reggie, and Julie at the studio that afternoon, so spent the day together beforehand. Just to try and get into the swing of things, they treated their morning together as a mini date. Alex took Willie to minigolf, then they went to an ice cream parlour, and after that Willie tried to teach Alex how to skateboard for fifteen minutes before Alex got too nervous and gave up. It was fun and Alex tried not to think about the fact that this was the reality he was missing out on – if he imagined he was just hanging out with Willie as a friend, which in a way he was, then it was just about bearable.

They arrived outside the studio together and they could hear the other band members’ voices already inside. Alex’s stomach started squirming nervously which he thought was weird. He didn’t actually have anything to be nervous about – he and Willie weren’t really dating.

But still, he was starting to feel a little bit queasy and was seriously considering just running away.

Then he felt Willie’s hand slip into his and their fingers lace together. He looked down at them and saw that he had a kind, soft smile on his face, gently encouraging.

“Ready to be my boyfriend, sweetheart?” Willie asked teasingly.

The nerves didn’t disappear, but Alex found it a lot easier to ignore them after that.

“Always,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

Without another moment’s hesitation, Alex pushed open the studio door and led Willie inside. Julie, Luke, and Reggie all hushed immediately and looked at the couple like they’d been caught red-handed. If their guilty expressions were anything to go by, they had been talking about Alex and Willie before they had walked in. He could only guess as to what they had been saying, but at that point Alex hardly thought it mattered.

It was showtime.

“Hey guys,” he said, grinning broadly. “What are you talking about?”

The three all responded at the same time but with wildly different answers.

“That gig next week,” blurted Luke.

“I lost my favourite hairclip,” Julie explained.

“I’m thinking of buying a horse,” Reggie told them.

Alex and Willie looked at each other, trying to hide their amusement.

“Anyway,” Julie said, “doesn’t matter what we were talking about! Because you’re here now, both of you! And you’re dating!”

Without warning, Willie giggled brightly and attached himself to Alex like a koala to a tree. Alex laughed and threw his arms around Willie, holding them tightly, pressing a firm kiss to the top of their head.

“I feels so good to finally have it out in the open,” Willie gushed, gazing at Alex with pure adoration in his eyes. “Right, sugarplum?”

Alex gently rubbed the tip of his nose against Willie’s, fighting the urge to laugh. “Of course, my little cheesecake.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex could see his friends’ expressions – he had to close his eyes so he wouldn’t be able to see them, otherwise he definitely would have broken character and started laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. Luke looked utterly horrified, like the display of affection was disgusting; Julie was staring at the two of them wide-eyed, her face flushed red, looking like she would rather be anywhere else; and Reggie just looked baffled.

After a while, Julie cleared her throat and the couple turned to look at her innocently.

“So,” she said, “we’ve heard Alex’s version of the story, but Willie – how did… all this happen?”

Willie linked his arm through Alex’s marched the two of them over to the couch and sat Alex down, then sat primly on his lap, laying their head against Alex’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you asked.”

“I’m not,” Luke muttered, “this is weird.”

Julie kicked his shin and he shut his mouth.

“I had been watching Alex from afar ever since we met, but I didn’t think a cool, handsome drummer could ever care about someone like me. I was convinced we would only ever be friends. But then we hung out together and I saw all these different sides to his personality – he’s so caring and soft, you know, and he means everything he says. Alex isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. So I decided to just go for it, ask him out, admit how I feel.”

Alex stroked a hand through Willie’s hair, eyes fixed on him. “Since then we’ve never looked back. And we never will.”

“Oh, my darling!” Willie exclaimed, throwing themself at Alex and pressing a kiss to his lips.

It certainly wasn’t how Alex had envisioned his first kiss with Willie going (and he had envisioned a great many different versions of it) but in a strange way it felt just right. Sure, they weren’t dating, but they were hanging out together, having fun, being in each other’s company and loving every second of it. Maybe the circumstances weren’t exactly what Alex wanted, but the love they held for one another was still there, nothing could take that away.

So maybe it wasn’t the best decision he’d ever made, but Alex let himself get lost in the kiss. He didn’t know how many times he’d get to do this in his life, so he figured it was better to make the most of it. He blocked out the fact that his friends were right there (a sure sign that he wasn’t thinking straight – absently he knew that he would be very embarrassed by this when it was all over) and just focused on Willie.

And he was sure he wasn’t imagining the fact that Willie seemed to be enjoying it just as much.

When Julie eventually cleared her throat again, they separated. But Alex couldn’t take his eyes off Willie. He knew he wasn’t imagining what he’d felt in that kiss – like sparks had flown between them, forcing their dynamic into something much more than friendly banter and an inside joke. Willie’s eyes were glassy and he was breathing heavily, scanning Alex’s face for something, though Alex didn’t know what. All he knew was that the kiss had pushed the boundaries they had spent all morning setting and if he wasn’t more careful he would lose himself to this silly little charade.

The five of them spent the rest of the afternoon and evening just talking to each other. Willie stayed firmly planted in Alex’s lap and they both used the occasional cutesy nickname for each other, but it seemed as if both of them had silently made the decision to tone things down a little bit. Luke seemed relieved about it at least – for all the heart eyes he made at Julie he certainly seemed uncomfortable at the affection Alex and Willie had shown. It was probably because Alex hardly ever showed love like that in front of people.

But god, he wanted to do it all again.

Luckily, it didn’t seem like any of their friends suspected Alex and Willie of lying to them. By the time they were all on their way home – Alex and Willie walking away hand in hand – nobody had brought up the fact that it could all be fake.

“That went well,” Willie said as they walked along the seafront, heading back to his place. The cold night breeze lifted their hair and Alex couldn’t keep his eyes off them, not when they were looking so beautiful.

“Yeah,” he said, watching the way the amber glow of the streetlamps danced in Willie’s eyes. “It did.”

“Have you thought about how long we’re going to do this for?” Willie asked. Alex was sure he heard nervousness in Willie’s tone, maybe mingled with hope.

He shrugged. “A few weeks maybe. Unless you had something else in mind.”

“No, no, that’s fine, man.” They had arrived at Willie’s apartment building and stopped just outside of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, smiling smally. “See you tomorrow.”

He didn’t know what he was thinking – he had expected a goodnight kiss from Willie, but instead he was left alone in the cold as Willie let go of his hand and hurried into the building. Alex was suddenly reminded again that it was all fake, that he shouldn’t have expected kisses when they were alone.

It hurt though. He knew that kiss earlier had been more than just top-notch acting.

He fell asleep that night, still thinking about it, the memory replaying on a loop in his mind. In one way or another, Willie was going to drive him crazy.

*

The next two weeks flew by. Alex found himself hanging out just with Willie more and more often, playing Mario Kart together at Willie’s insistence, going on more dates that weren’t actually dates, or even just video-chatting each other while doing their own separate things to enjoy the company.

After that first day as a “couple”, Alex was sure Willie’s confidence had been knocked. For the next few days they withdrew himself from Alex and Alex didn’t know if he’d done something wrong or if it was just something on Willie’s mind. Still, he let Willie work through it, and a few days later he was back to normal, clinging to Alex like a barnacle to a ship, calling him every pet name under the sun.

And still their friends were none the wiser.

The end of their time as a couple came all too quickly. Alex walked Willie back to his apartment again, a heaviness in his heart. He didn’t know how an actual breakup felt, but he was willing to bet that a breakup would be less painful than whatever this was. No part of him wanted to give this up, whatever silly little thing was going on between him and Willie – it was fun, it was freeing, it gave Alex a light feeling in his chest and made him so happy he thought he might burst at any moment. He didn’t want to give any of it up.

But still he walked Willie to his door.

They stood facing each other, hands interlinked between them, sad smiles on each of their faces. Alex tried to memorise every detail on Willie’s face as if it was the last time he would see them.

“This has been fun,” he said eventually, his voice low, quiet in the night air.

“You can say that again,” Willie agreed. “I loved being your boyfriend.”

“I loved being your boyfriend.”

Something flickered in Willie’s eyes, an expression gone too quickly for Alex to name, but it was quickly forgotten because a moment later Willie stood up on his tiptoes and kissed Alex.

It wasn’t like any of the other kisses they had shared in the past few weeks. There was nothing over-the-top and exaggerated about it, it wasn’t just a stunt they pulled to fool their friends. It was slow and soft and Alex felt the rest of his body go fuzzy and numb as all he could concentrate on was Willie’s lips on his.

An eternity later, Willie pulled away, his eyes scanning Alex’s face.

Alex swallowed heavily and said, “I thought we could only kiss each other to prove a point.”

Willie nodded. “Did I not get my point across very well? Do I need to kiss you again?”

Alex almost laughed but something stopped him. “Just… just explain it to me first. So I don’t get the wrong idea.”

“I loved being your boyfriend,” Willie said. “You enjoyed being my boyfriend. So… why should we stop?”

Alex felt his head spin. Somehow the nightmare he’d created for himself all those weeks ago was turning into a dream come true.

“You mean that?” he asked. “Tell me you mean that, Willie, please.”

“I mean it,” Willie said resolutely. “I’ve felt this way about you for too long just to let it go. If you want me then I want you. I want to date you, Alex. For real.”

Alex kissed him again, short but sweet.

“Is that a yes?” Willie asked, giggling.

“There’s no other answer I could have ever given.”

Even though they remained boyfriends (real ones this time), Alex and Willie decided to drop the over-the-top, lovey-dovey stuff. It was fun, but it wasn’t them. Instead, they chose to fill every second together with quiet declarations of love, casual dates, soft kisses, nothing that wasn’t real.

But they never did tell Luke, Reggie, and Julie how much of it had been fake.

*

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @boggie-brainrot @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @tmp-jatp @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh @sunnysbright @sylphrenas @callmeontheleyline

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 12

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: It’s sort of funny though, to imagine Din being defeated by Gideon’s sword. 

It’s sort of funny, except...

Well. 

It isn’t really funny at all.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,704 (good lord I’m tired...)

Warnings: angst, swearing, one brief moment of sexual harassment, lots of assumptions made, Dark Din returns and some familiar characters make themselves known

Author Note: Believe me I want Din and Cupid reunited as much as all of you do, but my dark side keeps saying just stretch it out a little bit longer 😈 All the love to each and every reader out there, the support you give me keeps me sane and happy each week ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 11 and Part 13

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

You wipe furiously at your face, smearing tears across your cheeks, while inwardly cursing yourself for showing weakness in front of Gideon. A lump forms in your throat as you replay the last sixty seconds on loop in your head, imagining exactly how Din will react to each sentence, especially those last two words: let go. This will be the one and only time you’re thankful you can’t feel Din’s half of the bond. If he’s feeling even a smidge of the throbbing, torturous pain you’re feeling right now, experiencing both sides would have overwhelmed you. Of all the commands Gideon could have chosen, why would he choose to taunt Din with that one? It’s as if the Seraph is purposefully trying to piss Din off.

Maybe he is insane, you think, not for the first time, just as he starts to clap his hands together in applause.

“Well done,” Gideon says, almost in admiration. “You’re a much better actress than I imagined you’d be.”

“It wasn’t an act,” you snap back.

“Regardless, you’ve served your part well.” He reaches forward to pat your head, and you honestly deserve an award for not giving into the urge to break his hand. “If it would make you feel better, I could make you forget this moment ever happened. Should I require you to send a second message, it would certainly make it all the more bittersweet for you to think it was your first attempt.”

His words make no sense at first, and you merely sit there in the chair blinking back at him, some distant part of you aware of how your eyelashes are still wet and stuck together. Involuntarily, you find yourself recalling Din’s reaction to your memory loss, how he had muttered under his breath he thought someone was responsible for the blank spots. Your mouth falls open in shock as Gideon’s meaning clicks.

“You...You tampered with my memories?” you whisper.

“It wasn’t personal. There are holes in every Cupid’s head.”

Why would he use his powers so cruelly and invasively? How does he choose which memories to erase? These questions and more run through your head, but you don’t voice them aloud. Everything you’ve heard about and actually seen in person about Gideon has solidified your opinion he is a certifiable control freak. Of course he would use his memory-erasing ability to further establish his position of authority amongst the Cupids.

Your eyes drift to the Cupid twi’lek behind him. “Is that why she’s here? You brainwashed her into joining you?”

“I made my own choice,” she replies, tone as sharp as the knife she twirls with nimble fingers. It doesn’t gleam like metal, instead faintly sparkling just like your arrows do. Kyber crystal, you realize with a chill of uneasiness. “You don’t see me in a collar, do you?”

“Indeed, I cannot alter memories, only erase them. It was free will that brought Xi’an to me, not manipulation,” Gideon says with a smile, but his eyes glimmer in a way that makes your throat close up with fear. “She has become a loyal and valuable ally.”

Valuable. One word and your suspicions are confirmed. Collared or not, Xi’an is just as much a toy for Gideon to play with as you and Din are. The only difference is she doesn’t seem to realize she is one. Or, and this is a dangerous possibility, she does know and simply doesn’t give a damn.

“She’s your ally?” you echo, nervously licking your lips. “What does that mean?”

“She has dedicated herself to the achievement of my goal.”

You know he’s purposefully baiting you, but still you find yourself asking, “And that goal is?”

Gideon leans forward, invading your personal space even as you jerk backwards in your seat. The smile has been wiped from his face, replaced with narrowed eyes and a twisted scowl. He deliberately presses the unlit laser sword against the middle of your chest in the space between your breasts, thumb teasingly hovering over the activation button.  

When he answers, you’ve never heard anyone else speak as seriously as him.

“To finish what I started.”

The words linger in the air the same foreboding way Din’s reapers linger around hospitals. You don’t realize you’re not breathing until Gideon steps back after several pounding heartbeats pass and your lungs are on fire. You suck in a breath of relief, but your body remains tense, recognizing the dangerous situation you’re still stuck in.

“Mayfeld,” Gideon addresses the man armed with three guns who immediately straightens. “Take her back to her cell.”

You don’t resist as Mayfeld grabs you by the upper arm and tugs you out of your seat. It’d take a miracle to incapacitate him and everyone else in the room before they subdued you. No, you can’t make any rash decisions. The right moment will come, you tell yourself. It has to.

...Right?

“So, what’s it like being Death’s soulmate?”

You’re jerked out of your thoughts by Mayfeld’s voice. You side-eye him, keeping your mouth firmly shut.

“I mean, I’ve heard he never takes off the helmet,” he continues, unbothered by your silence. “But surely you must’ve seen what’s underneath there. If it were me, I’d definitely wanna know the face of the guy I’m allegedly destined to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Allegedly?” The question slips out before you can stop yourself.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not so much a believer in fate or destiny or true love. And now that I know the guy who’s the boss of Cupid operations?” He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Forget about ever trying to convince me the universe has a mortal’s best interests in mind when it allows a Seraph as bat-shit crazy as the Moff to have the power he has.”

“If you think he’s insane, why do you work for him?”

“The pay’s good,” he answers with a laugh. “Plus, if he really does pull off this plan of his, well...let’s just say I’d rather be in his corner than anywhere else.”

“You do realize though that anyone in Gideon’s corner is an enemy of Death’s?” you say, half-taunting him half-genuinely curious about his reaction.

“That thought has recently crossed my mind,” is all he replies.

The conversation comes to a halt when you arrive back at your cell. Mayfeld pushes you inside, but the force is noticeably gentler than the thug who had manhandled you earlier. Standing near the pallet, you watch as he digs a remote out of the pocket of his pants and activates the laser grid with a single press of a button.

Interesting.

You expect Mayfeld to immediately return to Gideon’s side, so you’re surprised and more than a little confused when the man continues to linger. A minute of silence ticks by and your confusion changes to frustration. What does he want?

Just as your mouth opens to snidely voice the question, the baby chooses that precise moment to sneak back into your cell. Your heart leaps into your throat as you rush forward to grab him, torn between forcibly shoving him back into the hole or foolishly attempting to hide him behind your back.

“There’s the little green guy,” Mayfeld says, and you pause at the audible note of cheerfulness in his voice. The baby coos in your arms, waving his hand in the man’s direction.

They kriffing know each other?

Mayfeld notices your bewildered expression. “What? You think none of us noticed he doesn’t like staying put? We might be mercenaries, but we’re not complete idiots.”

“You’re a heartless bastard,” you spit, holding the baby tighter against your chest. “He’s a baby and you’re doing nothing to get him out of here.”

“First of all,” he counters, holding up a finger. “Ouch. And second,” he points that same finger directly at the baby, “that little guy is older than me so calling him a ‘baby’ isn’t exactly fair.”

Your eyes sweep over Mayfeld, estimating him to be at least forty. You then look at the green face smiling back at you. Yeah, there’s no way he’s telling the truth.

“You’re a liar.”

“Maker, the hits just keep on coming.” Mayfeld rolls his eyes. “Why would I lie about his age?”

“I…” you trail off, unable to come up with an excuse.

“Exactly.” He nods smugly. “Look, he fooled me, too, with those big brown eyes of his. If I hadn’t witnessed what he can do when that collar’s off, I might have been suckered into releasing him. He’s cute, sure, but he’s also secretly a menacing gremlin.”

You frown. “What do you mean you’ve seen what he can do?”

“I mean he’s got powers. He can lift things with his mind, throw men against walls five times his size like they weigh nothing. What’s worse is he uses those powers to steal. I had a pack of cookies I was saving and he levitated them right out of my pocket.”

Your disbelief falters at that last bit. You had already surmised the baby had stolen the cookies, but not like this. Looking down at him again, the collar stands out more prominently than ever before. Xi’an told you they were purposefully designed to prohibit the use of powers. Why else would the baby wear one if he didn’t possess some type of special ability?

“You really have some serious trust issues, don’t you?” Mayfeld says, almost sounding impressed by your stubborn reluctance to believe him.

“I’m currently being held hostage by a psychopath,” you retort. “I think I’m allowed to be suspicious of a mercenary who says everything that pops into his head.”

His lips purse. “Alright. That’s a good point.”

“Isn’t it risky?” you ask, stepping closer to the gate. “Sharing all this information with me?”

“Only if you don’t appreciate the value of it all.”

Your brow furrows, not understanding.

“Look,” he lowers his voice meaningfully. “One way or another, Gideon and Death are gonna face each other and only one side will win. Gideon wins, great. Status quo unchanged. But if your soulmate wins?” He grimaces at the prospect. “By talking to you, I’m trying to cover all my bases here.”

Your brain works rapidly to fill in the blanks. “So, let me get this straight. You think that by getting on my good side, Death won’t murder you?” A wide grin stretches across your face, not the least bit friendly. “Oh, honey, you’ve got to do so much better than that. With what you’ve given me so far, the only kindness he’ll spare you is ripping your throat out quickly so you don’t suffer long.”

Take the bait.

“Oh, yeah?” A flicker of nervousness flashes across his face. He shifts his stance, arms crossing over his chest. “What would I have to do to not have that happen? I’m, uh, open to suggestions.”

Good, good, good.

“You get me the keys to these collars, I can guarantee you’ll walk out of here with every limb attached and not one drop of blood spilt.”

A long beat passes wordlessly. It would be completely silent if not for the baby’s quiet whining as he cuddles against you, unsettled by the tense atmosphere.

“You’re not the only one with trust issues,” Mayfeld says at last. “Maybe you can guarantee Death won’t kill me, but how do I know you won’t kill me with your bow yourself?”

You say nothing, not because you’re guilty of thinking of that specific scenario, but because you don’t know how to convince him you haven’t considered it. Anyone else in your same predicament would undoubtedly shoot him the first chance they got. He is an enemy after all. A minor one, true, but nevertheless contributing to the effort of keeping you separated from Din. He also clearly only has his own self-interest in mind, making him unpredictable and untrustworthy. Who’s to say he won’t attempt to double-cross you somehow?

All these reasons are valid and should make you hate him, but something inside of you isn’t allowing you to commit wholeheartedly to the feeling. And as much as it pains you to admit it, you know that ‘something’ is fear. You’ve never killed anyone before. Shot someone with an ichor arrow? Yes, several times, but not once was the wound fatal. As your list of escape options continues to dwindle though, you’re terrified of the possibility you’ll have no choice but to personally be responsible for ending someone’s life.

“There’s my answer,” Mayfeld says. His words are distressingly ambiguous, but it’s the way he bobs his head in a decisive manner and turns his back on you that causes your stomach to tie itself into knots.

Throat suddenly dry, you struggle to choke out, “Wait, I—”

He starts whistling an upbeat tune as he walks away, ignoring your attempts at reclaiming his attention. You listen hopelessly as the sound gradually grows farther and farther away, until eventually all you can hear is silence.

And once more, it’s just you and the baby alone in the cell.

~~

You lie on the pallet, staring up at the ceiling with the baby sleeping on your stomach. You reflect on everything that has happened since you left Arvala-7, taking every moment apart piece by piece to figure out what you know.

From what you’ve witnessed, you don’t think your superiors are involved in or even aware of Moff Gideon’s plans. Lang, Hess, and Morgan were his associates, not allies like he’d called Xi’an. The difference is subtle, but profound in meaning. You wonder if the three of them have had memories erased too, if they know Gideon was responsible.

He had told them you were being hidden away to prevent other Cupids from knowing you had a second soulmate, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Gideon wants you as his hostage because you’re Din’s soulmate. He wants to use you as leverage to get Din to do what he wants. Initially, you assumed that meant kill those who Gideon considered enemies, but that assumption was proven incorrect when you sent the message to Din without naming even one potential target.

Unfortunately, you think that is not the only wrong assumption you’ve made recently. Gideon had forced you to tell Din to let go. The bond had cried out with agony when you’d said the words out loud as it had thought you were telling Din to let go of you. But looking back at the incident with a clearer head, you find yourself wondering why hadn’t Gideon included those two extra words if that was what he meant? It’s not like there wasn’t plenty of space left to write them on the paper.

If he didn’t mean for Din to let go of you, then logically that would mean he wants Din to let go of something else. Something important enough that Gideon is taking advantage of your relationship in order to convince him to release it.

But what could Din possibly possess that Gideon wants this badly? Din doesn’t own anything valuable except for the Crest and his armor, and you doubt either of those will further progress Gideon towards his goal.

To finish what I started.

Hours later and you still can’t figure out what the kriff he’s talking about. No matter which way you twist or turn the phrase over in your mind, it’s incomprehensible. What did he start? When did it happen? How does he intend to finish it?

Considering how your previous assumptions were both flawed, you really shouldn’t be making another one, but you can’t get the moment of when he’d pressed the sword against your chest out of your mind. The action itself screamed intimidation as well as sexual harassment, but when you think about how he did it at the same time he revealed his goal, your gut instinct is telling you to definitely assume the two are connected to each other.

And then there’s Mayfeld’s comment about there being an inevitable clash between Din and Gideon. He had sounded so certain there would only be one victor, but, unlike you, he hadn’t immediately placed his bet on Din. Which makes no sense to you. Everyone knows it’s an indisputable fact Din is the most powerful entity in the universe, second only to the Maker. The chance of Gideon winning their fight is so slim it’s infinitesimal.

It’s sort of funny though, to imagine Din being defeated by Gideon’s sword.

It’s sort of funny, except...

Well.

It isn’t really funny at all.

~~

Over the span of Din’s existence, he had witnessed entire civilizations wiped out by war, genocide, disease. No matter the reason behind the tragedy, the universe always called him there in the final moments to walk amongst the ruins left behind, to watch those last to die mourn those who passed before them. In those moments, he felt powerless, knowing there was not one thing he could do to change any of it.

He realized the universe was trying to instill a lesson in him: what is meant to happen, will always happen. Regardless of who is hurt in the process.

And maybe he would have surrendered to the harsh teaching if his angel hadn’t been stolen from her rightful place at his side. No one, not even the fucking universe itself, is going to stop him from getting her back.

From their first meeting, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Then when she asked him question after question about his likes and dislikes, his hobbies, his favorite sights in the galaxy—he made the risky decision of trusting her. He revealed his face to her, allowed her to know every part of himself, and was stunned every time she didn’t fear or run away from what she discovered. He didn’t know whether to consider her stupid or brave, but the moment he first heard her laugh at one of his sarcastic quips he knew it was a sound he wanted to hear everyday for the rest of eternity.

When she showed him her marked hand, claiming they were each other’s soulmates, he swore to himself he’d dedicate himself to her happiness. Anything she wanted or asked for, he would give to her without question.

Except now she has asked him to do the impossible: to let go.

He replays the transmission enough times every word, every quiet hitch of breath, and every subtle twitch of her facial features is embedded in his mind. Bo-Katan heaves a sigh after the eighth loop, squeezing the bridge of her nose as if a headache was forming, but he can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the hologram long enough to glare at the reaper. She doesn’t have a soulmate, therefore she can’t even begin to fathom how it feels when his half of the soulmate bond slams itself against the invisible wall separating him from his angel with all the unhinged ferocity of a feral beast.

If Din didn’t know his angel as intimately as she knew him, he might have believed those were her own words coming out of her mouth. However, throughout the entire length of the message he notices how her eyes nervously flick to the side every few seconds, as if she needs to reassure herself someone offscreen isn’t making any sudden movements. It’s all the confirmation he needs to know she’s being used as a mouthpiece against her will to demand Din gives up searching for her.

Din refuses to yield to the whims of an enemy who doesn’t have the balls to face him directly.

He channels his seething anger into steadfast determination as he stretches his powers out across the galaxy for a second time, this time searching for the twi’lek Hess so graciously identified for him. Her being the one to have dragged his soulmate out of Cupid headquarters couldn’t have been a random circumstance. If she has even the slightest notion of who the elusive immortal is that is responsible for shielding his angel from him, he’ll beat the name out of her just as he had her Cupid superior.

Bo-Katan, never one to stand still when she can be doing something useful, sends a message out to her fellow reapers to fill them in on the developing situation. Only Din can give them orders to follow, but she strongly recommends they interrogate any Cupid they come across for information about Xi’an.

Transmissions start flooding in an hour later of reapers reporting what they’ve learned. Turns out Xi’an is the type of person who finds joy in antagonizing others. No one claims her as their friend nor do they know what region of the galaxy she usually operates in. The most interesting tidbit learned from the interrogations is that several Cupids have admitted they often saw the twi’lek in the archives at headquarters, studying datapads and flipping through holobooks.

“She was searching for something,” Bo-Katan murmurs, brow creasing thoughtfully.

“Or she was gathering information on someone’s behalf.” Din’s eyes remained closed, focus split between the conversation and the search. “Only Cupids are allowed at their headquarters. She’d have no issue slipping in and out without anyone giving her a second—”

Every soul has a unique aura that can only be sensed by power-sensitive beings like himself. No two are the same, similar to fingerprints and snowflakes. Having a specific target in mind hastens the search of detecting them amongst the trillions of other beings inhabiting the galaxy, but it is not the fact that Din’s powers have just locked onto Xi’an’s soul that has his eyes snapping open. It is her location.

She’s on Umbriel.

“Stay with the ship,” he tells Bo-Katan.

Din teleports before the reaper responds, arriving at the front entrance of his soulmate’s apartment in the next blink. The front door is wide open and his jaw clenches as he recognizes the gesture for the taunt it is. Rolling his shoulders back, he enters the apartment, purposefully shutting and locking the door behind him.

“About time you showed up.” As soon as Din hears her voice, he’s reminded of a loth cat screeching when its tail is grabbed. The anger he’s been forcibly holding back starts to simmer beneath his armor, fingers twitching at his sides with the desire to wrap around her throat and squeeze.

He finds a purple-skinned twi’lek Cupid standing in the center of the living room. Or, what used to be considered the living room at least. Every piece of furniture has been broken and torn apart. The pile of newspapers kept in the corner are shredded and scattered across the floor. If he didn’t know how precious they were to his angel in her quest to reclaim her memories, he wouldn’t have cared about the mess, but he does know and his wrath increases exponentially.

“Xi’an,” he says, the name bitter on his tongue like a curse.

“The rumor mill says you’ve been looking for me,” she drawls, looking coy and fluttering her eyelashes. “I gotta say, I’m flattered by the attention.”

“Tell me where my soulmate is and you won’t meet the same fate as your boss.”

Her head tilts, tapping her fingers against her chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Are you referring to Hess? I heard no one’s been able to reach him lately, but since I report to someone of much higher ranking I could hardly bring myself to care.” Her lips curl into a wicked smirk, revealing the faintest glimpse of her fangs. “You’ve piqued my interest now though, what’d you do to the bastard?”

“I ripped out his soul and crushed it into dust.”

She giggles, unpleasant and shrill. “How scandalous.”

His patience snaps.

“Enough of this.” He steps forward. “Tell me who you work for and where is my soulmate.”

A pair of knives appear in her hands, summoned in the same quick manner as his angel had drawn her bow.

“My answer to the first part is no. And as for the second, you need to be more specific.” She sneers. “Which part of her are you looking for?”

The noise that tears itself out of Din’s throat is one never made by another entity before. It is an outburst of ravenous fury, a promise of bloodshed and carnage, and a predator’s roar before they consume their prey all blended into one deafening war cry.

Xi’an maintains a brave face as she throws knife after knife at him, but as each one harmlessly deflects off his beskar and dissolves into a flicker of light, he sees her mask begin to crack, revealing her nervousness.

She resorts to throwing punches when he’s close enough, but there is no finesse and each one is sloppy. He catches her fist mid-swing with his own hand and twists, shattering her wrist. She gasps out a curse, but the unexpected reappearance of her mischievous smirk manages to catch him off guard.

“Are you gonna do it?” she asks, voice tight with pain, but the intent to provoke him is clear. “Unleash that beautiful darkness I can sense writhing around inside of you?”

He pins her against the wall harsh enough her teeth audibly clack against each other. Still she keeps smirking, still her voice drips like poison into his ears.

“You know you want to, sweetie, so just let go.”

Din’s powers lash out, incensed by those two words he’s sick of hearing. Latching onto her soul, she starts to choke, but the deranged glimmer of glee in her eyes makes him think she’d be laughing if she could.

Darkness starts to ooze out of his armor, resembling thick, black smoke. He can feel the sinister energy emanating from the very core of his being, as if the box it’s been trapped in has been unlocked and is seconds away from bursting open.

Some distant, far part of him is ringing every warning alarm and urging him to stop. But he ignores that voice of reason when he sees Xi’an’s soul start creeping up the back of her mouth, glowing brightly as it squirms in a futile attempt to free itself from the hold of his powers.

He grits his teeth, impatience prompting him to tug at it again, and—

The world lurches and transforms in a blur. When his vision adjusts, he’s no longer standing in his soulmate’s apartment, but instead surrounded by an abundance of scorched trees. Chest heaving, he struggles to clear his head of violent thoughts and make sense of what just happened.

Someone suddenly calls out from behind him, “I summoned you here to speak with you.”

Din recognizes the speaker’s voice before he actually turns to see the female togruta. She wears her usual blue-and-silver tunic and a brown headpiece embedded with a gem over her montrals. The ground is green beneath her feet, the only glimpse of flourishing nature for miles.

“I was in the middle of something, Ahsoka,” Din answers, stalking forward until they stand nearly toe to toe. He’s lost count of how many encounters they’ve had with one another over the years, but no matter the number he remains reluctant to consider her a friend since the Oracle has the irritating knack for disrupting his life when he least desires her presence.

She stands tall, but her hands move to rest on the hilts of the two sabers attached to her belt. “Have you forgotten your creed? When the universe needs you, you listen to it.”

“My soulmate needs me!” he shouts, trembling as another pulse of dark energy discharges from his body. It washes over Ahsoka like a harsh gust of wind, but while she remains unaffected, the patch of grass withers instantaneously.

“The universe recognizes that,” Ahsoka says, and while her calmness does nothing to ease his frayed nerves, her next words have him freezing in place. “And I’ll take you to her so long as you promise me one thing.”

Tentative hope slices through the erratic storm of frenzied emotions in his chest like a beam of sunlight. He searches Ahsoka’s face for the faintest hint of deception, but finds only sincerity.

“What is it?”

“You cannot kill Moff Gideon.”

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[veronicamarsconfessions]

Editor’s Note: TV moves on, but we haven’t. In our feature series It Still Stings, we relive emotional TV moments that we just can’t get over. You know the ones, where months, years, or even decades later, it still provokes a reaction? We’re here for you. We rant because we love. Or, once loved. And obviously, when discussing finales in particular, there will be spoilers:

There was a time when Veronica Mars’ legacy was that of a beloved cult show that was canceled too soon by network executives who didn’t understand it. With the arrival of a crowd-funded feature film in 2014, its legacy evolved as one of the first shows to see the benefits of a revival. Now, it simply brings thoughts of sadness, rage, and betrayal.

When Hulu first announced it was reviving the series for an eight-episode fourth season, the news was met with resounding joy from a vocal and passionate fanbase that had never given up hope it would return after the crowd-funded feature film reunited Kristen Bell’s Veronica, a pint-sized private eye with a sharp mind and even sharper wit, with her one true love, the reformed bad boy Logan Echolls (Jason Dohring). But the fire that had burned for more than a decade and twice-revived the show was suddenly extinguished in a single, heartbreaking, and wholly unnecessary moment when Logan was killed by a bomb left in Veronica’s car shortly after the couple exchanged wedding vows.

I can still remember the shock I felt when I reached the end of the screeners Hulu sent. The whole thing felt kind of surreal, like if I didn’t acknowledge what had happened out loud maybe it didn’t actually happen. But it did happen. And I’m still filled with a fiery rage and a deep sadness when I think about it now, nearly two years removed from the episode in question, because needlessly killing Logan was a betrayal of the worst kind. The character’s untimely demise felt engineered for nothing more than shock value, like it existed only to leave Veronica even more isolated and cynical. But the interviews that series creator Rob Thomas gave in the aftermath, in which he tried to defend the decision, revealed something much worse while only driving the knife he’d stuck in fans’ backs deeper.

“In order for us to keep doing these, I think it needs to become a detective show—a noir, mystery, detective show—and those elements of teenage soap need to be behind us,” Thomas told TV Guide of the decision to kill Logan, noting that he also hoped to take Veronica out of Neptune and on the road in potential future seasons. “I sort of viewed these eight episodes as a bridge to what Veronica Mars might be moving forward.”

Instead of being a bridge to the future, it was a bridge to a grave of Thomas’ own making. Not since How I Met Your Mother ignored literal years of character development to deliver a half-cooked series finale the creators had come up with several years prior has a show felt so out of touch with its characters, the story it was telling, and its fans. Thomas’ decision to kill Logan is the perfect example of a creator being unable to recognize their own biases to the detriment of their creation.

He wrongly believed that Veronica needed to be hardened by years of nonstop torment and trauma in order to prove she was a great detective whose story was worth continuing. In putting her through the emotional wringer (again) after spending the entire season attempting to dig into her flaws and determine the root of her problems, Thomas swiftly undermined his heroine and her trauma with one misguided act of devastating violence. The fact that Thomas then chose to also skip over Veronica’s grieving process entirely reveals how little he ultimately thought of Logan or Veronica’s relationship with him, which had pushed her to be better and work through her longtime trust issues.

It is common knowledge by now that Logan was not intended to be Veronica’s love interest when the show debuted, but the fans took to the character more than they took to Teddy Dunn’s Duncan “He Used to Be My Boyfriend” Kane, so the latter was jettisoned from the show after Season 2. And in the end, Logan turned out to be a much better partner and match for Veronica’s personality. So what’s truly unfortunate about Thomas killing Logan, and killing him so violently, is that his thought process during Season 4 has the potential to color everything that happened in the show up until the moment the bomb went off. There is also the issue that Thomas apparently believed that Veronica achieving some level of romantic happiness was a one-way ticket to the grave, as if shows like Friday Night Lights hadn’t already soundly debunked the myth that happy couples did not make great TV.

Obviously an emotional family drama does not play by the same rules as noir, but Veronica Mars had already proven that you don’t need to play firmly within the sandbox of the genre to excel creatively. So why should the more adult version of the show attempt to put itself back in the box to be confined to something more traditional or stereotypical? Furthermore, love and contentment are not character flaws or weaknesses. They are not an element of “teenage soap,” as Thomas put it. In fact, one could argue that by allowing herself to believe that she and Logan could have a happy future together regardless of everything she’d witnessed in her line of work, Veronica had shown more personal and emotional growth in the show’s fourth season than she had in the entire run of the series.

At the heart of the matter, though, is one simple, glaring truth: Logan’s death was a fundamental misreading of the entire Veronica Mars fandom and what they liked about the show. Storytelling should never be dictated by the fans and their desires—one of the loudest and most common complaints critics had about the movie was that it felt too much like Thomas was just giving the fans what they wanted rather than attempting to tell a good story—but when your fandom has dug their hands into the cold soil of the TV graveyard to raise your show from the dead, you should probably have a grasp on what exactly the fans like about it in the first place. After all, they’re the reason you still exist and will be one of the final arbiters of whether or not you get to continue to exist in the future. And the idea that fans would somehow be interested in watching a version of Veronica Mars in which Veronica was on the road, completely alone, and Logan was blown to bits is just a wild miscalculation.

This isn’t to suggest Veronica Mars could not ever survive without Logan. That would be to undercut the rest of the show and the woman Veronica has become since we first saw her cutting Wallace (Percy Daggs III) off the flagpole in the series’ pilot. But there is a difference in writing Logan out of the show’s ongoing story arc—his secretive Naval career offered the perfect out—and violently killing him in an attempt to shock viewers and show just how resilient your heroine is in the face of trauma. A survivor of rape who had to solve the murder of her best friend (Amanda Seyfried) while still in high school because the sheriff’s department was too inept to do it (or simply did not care to do it), Veronica had already been through more in her young life than anyone should ever have to live through.

Although Logan’s death led to her finally seeing a therapist, it seemed to be a one-time thing, so nothing has really changed. Veronica is still the same person she was before the show returned, except now she’s also a widow and Thomas has alienated an entire fanbase to the point that many fans, though likely not all, have no interest in revisiting her story. And they’re not likely to either, since Hulu chose not to move forward with another season.

So much for that bridge to the future.

[kumeko]

A/N: For Suga, who wanted a Renobowl! I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope I added enough characters/potential romance routes to more than make up for it!

…

…

…

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i. Cloud

It was a ridiculously stupid. Reno stood in the unfinished basement of the cruddy bar, Seven Minutes in Heaven or something. A table stood in the center of the room, multiple painstakingly handmade maps sprawled over it. The walls were covered with blinking lights and cameras that were more stylistic than functional.

 This was the great AVALANCHE’s headquarters. This was where the renegade group of morons thwarted Shinra and somehow survived to tell the tale. This was where all of their slipshod improvised plans were made.

 “This is a shitshow,” Reno muttered, leaning against the wall. How the fuck had they even once lost to these guys? It had to be luck or something equally silly. There was no fucking way it was anything else.

 Even worse? He was joining this merry band of idiots.

 Maybe he had hit his head back in the church.

“You can leave anytime you want to,” Barret growled, glaring at him over the map. The guy overprotective of everything, whether it was his daughter, the bar, or the people he worked with. It was entirely unlike Shinra’s hands-off management team. Reno almost missed the single-worded orders and lingering silence.

 “Nah, I’m good.” Reno smirked, his lips curling back as he bared his sharp teeth. It had cowed the other, lesser members of the team, but Barret didn’t so much as flinch.

 “You try anything funny, and you won’t have a choice,” he warned, before going back to his ‘plan’.

 Reno snorted. Like he hadn’t already gotten that warning from AVALANCHE’s rabid dog. He could still feel the bar digging into his back from when Cloud had pushed him against it, his grip tight on his collar. Despite his constant claims of just being a mercenary for hire, there had been a rough concern in his voice as he’d growled If you betray us to Shinra…

 Cloud’s sword was sharp, his hands strong, and it didn’t take much to imagine just what he’d do if Reno turned traitor.

 Not that he’d planned to; he’d had enough being Shinra’s lapdog. Yet, even now he could feel Cloud’s hot breath on his face, his heart racing at the possibilities. If he had reached up to grab Cloud’s collar too, if he had closed the gap between them, what would have happened? How rough would it be?

 Rude had always warned him he was self-destructive, and well, he wasn’t wrong. Across the dark room, Cloud regarded him with Mako-bright eyes and Reno could only lick his lips in anticipation.

  ii. Tifa

 “Oh great, another one to haul out. Why can’t they leave before they pass out?”

 Blearily, Reno looked up from his empty glass. At the bottom was a drop or two of gin, and he pressed his lips against the rim as he tried to force them down.

 “Oh, you’re awake.”  

 Remembering the voice, he looked up. Standing across the bar, a pretty brunette eyed him wryly as she pried his glass away from him. His hand instantly clenched, but it was too late, she’d slipped it out too fast. There was something about her build, about the muscles on her arm and the smooth way that she didn’t so much as walk as flowed across the floor that reminded him about something. It was like a fighter’s. Or a dancer’s. Both were common enough in this town.

 “Youree hot,” he slurred, trying to reach over and take it back. He smirked at her; it worked about half the time, if he was lucky.

 Unfortunately, he wasn’t lucky today. She sighed, rolling her eyes as she set the cup down behind her. Walking around the bar, she wrapped an arm around his waist and hoisted him up. Immediately, he corrected his previous guess. She was definitely a fighter. That strength was no dancer’s, all muscle and little finesse. He was certain she could toss him over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

 “You should take me home,” he leered. No one could claim he knew when to quit.

 She wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes, clearly used to this sort of talk. Opening the door, she hauled him outdoors. As usual, the slums smelled like coal dust and shit, but her whiskey scent cut through it. He was half drunk on it. “You smell good.”

 The bartender rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, where should I drop you off?”

 “My place then?” You couldn’t claim Reno knew when to quit.

 For his efforts, he was promptly deposited on the hard ground. Swiping her hands against each other as though to wipe off her germs, she firmly replied, “I’m sure you can make it back on your own.”

 Reno chuckled, getting up on wobbly feet. “Tomorrow then?”

 At her responding glare, he laughed the entire walk back.

   iii. Barret

Reno couldn’t tell you why he’d decided to suddenly help AVALANCHE. It certainly wasn’t one of those good reasons, like pity or kindness. It certainly wasn’t self-preservation either—if he wanted to live, he should have stuck with Shinra. The man owned almost all of the city and had more than enough connections everywhere else to make life uncomfortable.

 Then again, Reno had never claimed to be exceptionally smart. He’d always choked against every restraint put on him, always struggled underneath his former boss’s heel.

 (He remembered Tseng’s cold voice as he accepted the sector drop, and maybe that twinge of guilt had been more than just a twinge.)

 Either way, here he was lying on the roof of the building, the helicopter in pieces around him. Rude probably survived the crash, he survived everything, the dumb fuck, but he definitely wouldn’t be happy to see Reno after the stunt he pulled. Shinra had more than enough men to protect him, the ass.

 This was a stupid idea. Which was probably why he didn’t even think when he crashed their helicopter on the pad instead of fighting Barret and his band of merry idiots. What a stupid idea. They’d only live for maybe a few minutes more.

 He coughed and winced. That was a broken rib. Two, if he were unlucky, and Reno was always unlucky. He’d been born under a cursed star, after all.

 “You friggin’ moron.” Reno barely had time to open his eyes before he saw a thick, black arm wrap around his waist, picking him up with an unexpected gentleness despite the rough voice. “What were you doing?”

 “Saving your asses,” he croaked, laughing. Big mistake, his ribs definitely didn’t like that. Spitting blood on the ground, he smirked. “What’re you doing?”

 Barret snorted, running down the stairs in a desperate attempt to escape. Escape what? Reno frowned, his head aching as he tried to remember. There had been a bomb—the building was set to explode and he’d warned them.

 “We’re not gonna make it,” he mumbled. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Tifa and Cloud racing ahead, clearing the way.

 “We’re going to friggin’ try.” Barret tightened his grip as he bounded down the stairs even faster now, taking them three steps at a time. “Can’t believe you did that.”

 “And you’re carryin’ me.” Something about this struck him funny. He wasn’t sure if it was the concussion or if it had always been funny, but it was. He tried not to laugh. His ribs ached nonetheless.

 “Tifa insisted.” Barret ground out, looking a little put out. “You saved us, sure, but it’s probably ploy.”

 “I feel like a ploy,” Reno agreed. That made sense. He was certain that made sense.

 “Yeah, you do.” Barret tried not to jostle him as he turned down another flight of stairs. The whole building was endless. No wonder Reno had taken the helicopter up. “But I guess she’s got a point. No one’s going to kill themselves just to get in.”

 “I’m in?” Reno wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Queasy, though that might have been the concussion.

 “I’m not letting you near us, but you get to live.” Barret glanced at him, the hardened face of a leader. “You’ve earned that much.”

 “Have I?” he questioned, but his head jostled and he fell into the welcoming darkness.

   iv. Sephiroth

 There were many things Reno expected during his time with the Turks, but sitting in a helicopter across from SOLDIER’s greatest warrior hadn’t been high on the list. Considering the kind of wild card he was, he’d expected the brass to keep them as far apart as possible.

 Maybe the higher ups liked flirting with danger too. The chopper’s blades were loud and it was hard to think, let alone talk. Reno glanced at the door, taking in the snowy mountains below. “Why’d anyone want to go to a nowhere like this?”

 Sephiroth didn’t say anything, only coolly regarded him with bright, mako-infused eyes. Something sparked underneath his peaceful expression, some sort of violent storm that was just waiting to explode. Reno didn’t want to be anywhere near when it happened.

 He also wanted to stand right in the middle of it all.

 Rude had always called him a contradictory bitch.

 “I can see them sending me over to this boring backwater town as a punishment, but you?” he raised a brow, egging him on. “Thought you’d be too big to come here.”

 His silver hair almost hid his face as he leaned against the other door and silently took in their destination. Quietly, he replied, “You can stay on the helicopter when we arrive. You aren’t needed.”

 “Huh?” Reno snorted, resisting the urge to yank on his long hair and force him to look at him. If there was one thing that grated on his nerves, it was being ignored. “What, you want to hog all the glory?”

 “There’s two SOLDIERS.” His gold-flecked eyes met his, and Reno was certain now that he saw some spark of untameable emotion behind his glass exterior. “A Turk is useless.”

 “I’ll show you useless.” He smiled wolfishly, all teeth. Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed, just a smidge, and he personally made it his goal to see just how long it’d take for the big man to lose control.

   v. Aerith

 “Oh, you poor dears,” Aerith murmured as she knelt in the single patch of sunlight in the slums. Reno had once wondered just what the odds were that it shone through the hole in her church, that it hit the only place flowers grew, and then remembered he’d hated numbers. “Don’t worry, I’m here.”

 Hands in his pockets, Reno slowly made his way down the aisle to her, his footsteps echoing in the vast room. People might have come here once upon a time, but it was abandoned now, forgotten by all but a lone flower-girl. He glanced at the torn-up flowers at her feet, the over-turned dirt, and snorted. “This happens every time. You should just let them die.”

 “Never.” She immediately rejected his suggestion just as she’d done the last nth number of times this had happened. “You could help, you know, instead of standing there.”

 He shrugged. “They don’t pay me enough to watch you and help you.”

 “You don’t have to watch, you can just help,” she replied sweetly, her innocent smile not quite masking her sharp eyes. The girl was a match waiting to light up. “I won’t tell.”

 “Sure, and Shinra won’t have my head when he finds out.” Reno rolled his eyes. They had this conversation once a week. The company goons would come and get her (they also didn’t pay him enough to help them), she’d beat them up and flee, they’d make a mess of her garden, and she’d fix it up.

 And then rinse and repeat.

 It was boring. If he had to get stuck in this small-time slum with this small-time girl, then at least he should be properly entertained. “Why do you even care about those things?”

 “They’re pretty,” she replied earnestly, her fingers digging in the dirt and righting a plant. “They’re resilient. And…”

 “And?” Reno raised a brow.

 “I like them.” She grinned as she lied. He was pretty sure that the reason his boss wanted her was in her last, silent response. “Do I really need another reason?”

 “For this much work? Yeah.” Reno shrugged.

 Aerith chuckled, tucking a lock behind her ear. “If you say so. But if you change your mind…”

 “Not happening.” Reno snorted, sitting in a pew a couple of rows down. Crossing his arms on the bench in front of him, he rested his chin and watched as she went back to work.

 He was starting to sit closer each time.

 He didn’t want to think about what that meant.

   vi. Tseng

 “We’re balancing the scales,” Tseng ordered, his voice carefully neutral. It was always careful with this guy. The bastard liked to pretend he didn’t have feelings, that he was above all that. That the cold that came naturally to Shinra was also his own.

 Reno knew better. He made the same lies, only he didn’t buy into them. “Yeah…not.”

 “Do you really believe that?” Unfortunately, Rude bought Tseng’s act wholesale. A tragic flaw of his. As soft as he was, he needed some point to this, some reason for it all. There wasn’t. There never would be. And he’d never accept that. His hand clenched as he stared at Tseng.

 Reno knew Tseng’s response before he even opened his mouth.  Whatever the man might feel, he wouldn’t change his mind. “Does it matter?” Tseng raised a brow. Thatching his fingers, he regarded them coolly. His eyes lingered on Reno’s, as though he knew what would come next.

 Maybe he did. They did the same song and dance every time this happened. “What questions? We do the thing.” Reno shrugged, sitting up now. He ran a hand through his hair. “Just like always.”

 Rude looked at him sadly and sighed. “I’ll get ready.”

 Disheartened, he left the conference room, glancing back at Tseng one last time like a kicked puppy. If tactics like that could work, they wouldn’t be in this business in the first place. Reno snorted. As the heavy door slowly closed shut with a soft thud, he finally turned to Tseng. “You’re a fucking liar.”

 As usual, Tseng didn’t even bother to look up from his computer. His fingers ran quickly over the keys, tapping in an unknown code. Maybe if he did it enough, he could become one with the machine. “I didn’t lie.”

 Reno laughed, slipping off the couch and stalked toward the desk. Tseng still didn’t look up and he growled.

 Nothing got to him more than being ignored. “Every time you open that mouth,” he grabbed Tseng’s jaw, “You lie.”

 He didn’t so much as flinch. His eyes were dark. “I’ve never lied.”

 “Even that’s a lie,” Reno muttered.

 Tseng turned off his monitor. “Don’t make a mess on my desk this time.”

 “No promises.” It was all the warning Reno gave before he tugged Tseng closer and crashed his lips on his. There was nothing smooth or gentle about what they did—about the way Reno cleared the desk with a crash or Tseng pulled at his jacket, almost tearing it. This wasn’t a relationship, wasn’t anything more than just pent up emotions needing a release.

 And if that release was something physical, almost always bruising, then all the better. Hell, if he left enough marks on Tseng’s perfectly clear skin, then perhaps he could pretend he’d actually protested what they’d done.

That he’d tried and quelled the ghosts that refused to leave him alone.

  vii. Rude

“What if we flew away?” Rude asked, glancing at Reno as they flew the helicopter to Shinra’s building. There was a strange lit in his voice, one that took Reno several seconds to recognize as hope.

 “Back to headquarters?” he asked, playing dumb. Maybe it’d be enough for Rude to back away like he always did, take the coward’s way out.

 “No,” Rude shook his head. For once, he was being obstinate. “I mean…away.”

 It was his fault. He’d never been one for pillow talk, and that was the reason that Rude insisted on ambushing him everywhere else with these types of conversations. Hell, they were half-way to destroying AVALANCHE, and the man wanted to talk about escaping Shinra. Reno snorted, shutting it down immediately. “Like that’s fucking happening.”

 “But if it could?” Rude asked again, oddly insistent. His hands curled on the throttle as he eased the helicopter up. With his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

 “Fine.” Sittng back in his seat, he rolled his eyes. “Let’s say Shinra doesn’t kill us or hunt us down. Where would we go?”

 “One of those small towns on the outskirts?” Rude suggested, though he sounded like he’d thought this out for months. Maybe he had.  Maybe if Reno had just pretended to listen and slept through it all when they were in bed, he wouldn’t have to deal with that now. “There’s dozens of those.”

 “There’s a reason they’re small.” Reno scoffed, wrinkling his nose to the idea. He could barely handle them for a mission, let alone living in one. “What would we even do?”

 Rude shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Farm?”

 Reno snorted. “Can you imagine? Or maybe you could, but me? Do I look like a farmer?” He gestured at his body. Even on his best days, he knew exactly how scrawny he was. In all honesty, he’d always been a city boy; even the slums here were more interesting than some backwater town.

 “There’s other things to do.” Rude flicked a switch and pressed a button. “It’s a small town, not the middle of nowhere.”

 “Might as well be.” Reno watched as they got closer and closer to the tower. Any minute now, they’d have to jump out. Getting up, he glanced at Rude. “You good now?”

 Something about him deflated as he nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

 Reno bit back a groan. This is why he shouldn’t have even encouraged him. What a pain the ass. Looking out the window, he grumbled, “We can talk about this tonight, fine?”

 He could almost hear Rude smile. There was that annoying, hopeful sound again as he replied, “Yeah.”

[tights-orno-deal]

BASIC QUESTIONS

First name? Danielle

Surname? Dennison

Middle names? Olivia

Nicknames? Dani

Date of birth? July 15

Age? 18

PHYSICAL / APPEARANCE

Height? 5’2

Make up? Nothing crazy. She     usually keeps it fairly natural.

Tattoos? A secret star on her     thigh that only she knows about.

Type of clothes? A lot of black     and pink and soft goth aesthetics.

How do they wear their clothes?     She wants them to be comfortable and able to be moved around in.

Are they in good health? She’s     in relatively good health, yes, but mostly thanks to age. She doesn’t work     at it.

PERSONALITY

What words or phrases do they     overuse? She probably says “like” too often for not being a valley girl.

Do they have a catchphrase? Not     that I’ve noticed.

Are they more optimistic or     pessimistic? Optimist, 100%.

Are they introverted or     extroverted? Extroverted, 100%.

Do they ever put on airs? Nah,     what’s the use? Everyone makes mistakes, everyone looks dumb. You should own     it and own those things that make you human.

What bad habits do they have?     She has a real problem with not listening when people give her good     advice.

What makes them laugh out loud?     Most everything. She’s easy to get laughing.

How do they display affection?     Soft touches, shutting up to listen to you.

How do they want to be seen by     others? A badass bitch who takes no shit, lol. Really, just someone worth     being around.

How do they see themselves? She     likes who she is for the most part. She had always believed she was     courageous, but the witches have flipped her view, unsure about what her pervasive     fear of them means.

How are they seen by others? I     think people see her as fun, wholesome, cute… she hates 2 out of 3 of     those descriptors though, because she feels like people don’t take her     seriously because of them.

Strongest character trait?     Courage

Weakest character trait? Selfish

How competitive are they? Not     really all that competitive

Do they make snap judgements or     take time to consider? Depends on the day.

How do they react to praise? She     has some sort of goofy response and a compliment back, shift the attention     off her.

How do they react to criticism?     It takes a moment, she doesn’t just accept it instantly, but she can     eventually come around to it.

What is their greatest fear?     Being unable to stop when something puts her family or Binx in danger.

What are their biggest secrets?     I don’t really think she has secrets. She usually is fairly open about     things. There are things she has yet to tell herself… but mostly she says what     she thinks and feels.

What is their philosophy of     life? The beauty of life is in the people you share it with. Choose wisely     and be a person that can make their life beautiful as well.

When was the last time they     cried? Probably at multiple points while Binx was missing.

What haunts them? She said, ‘idk     ghosts?’

What will they stand up for? You,     your dog, your dog’s cousin… she is willing to fight when someone needs     it.

Who do they quote? Celebrities     probably.

What is their sinful little     habit? ‘It should be a sin to be this awesome’

What sense do they most rely     on? Hearing

How do they treat people better     than them? She likes to think that she treats everyone the same, but she     is easily awed by people she thinks are great.

How do they treat people worse     than them? Unless you move against her, she tries to treat you with     respect.

What quality do they most value     in a friend? Just love her.

What do they consider an overrated     virtue? Obeying rules.

If they could change one thing     about themselves, what would it be? She would be less afraid of the     witches.

What is their obsession? All     things witches. She thinks about witches, dreams about witches, reads     about witches. She is unsure where the lines between terror, fascination,     and envy are.

What are their pet peeves? When     people don’t listen to her, especially her brother.

FRIENDS AND FAMILY

Is their family big or small?     Who does it consist of? Just her, her mom and dad, and brother.

What is their perception of     family? She loves her family and depends on them, but she firmly believes     that that same kind of family can be found in other places. It’s not all about     blood.

Describe their best friend.     Binx is certainly the yin to her yang sometimes. He’s deep and contemplative,     made up by centuries of experiences and layers that she really is only     starting to peel back. She feels their connection goes deeper than that of     friends, though. This is her person, her soul mate in life. Her other     bestie is Fran. Their immortality has allowed her to create a friend in them     that you normally might not see with their vast age difference.

Describe their other friends.     Dani’s type is apparently immortal hot men, and she is not complaining.     She surrounds herself with them. Outside of that, when it comes to friends     her own age, it’s more of a mix of personalities. She’s sweet, but mischievous,     which allows her to be friends with people like Logan and Aurora and     remain completely herself. She likes having a friend for all occasions.

Describe their acquaintances.     Dani probably has acquaintances, but she’s quick to call you her friend,     regardless of how the other person might see it.

Do they have any pets? She     needs a new cat, preferably a regular one this time.

PAST AND FUTURE

What was your character like as     a baby? As a child? I think her personality has been fairly steady     throughout her life. She’s always been relatively upbeat and a     troublemaker.

Did they grow up rich or poor?     Middle class.

Did they grow up nurtured or     neglected? Nurtured.

What is their greatest     achievement? I don’t know if she has one yet. In writing her, I like to     take the mentality that until the moment the witches were released, her     life was very ordinary. She wasn’t rich, or poor, or had anything big and     dramatic happen to her. All her greatest achievements as well are yet to     come.

What was their first kiss like?     It was fine. Nothing to write home about.

What are their ambitions? She     currently is really into learning about magic and really getting to a     place of understanding of it. Partly she thinks it will help her fight     against the witches, but beneath that, she hopes understanding magic will     make it less frightening.

What advice would they give     their younger self? “It’s going to be scary but it’s going to be worth it.     Just be brave.”

What smells remind them of     their childhood? Salt air

What was their childhood     ambition? To be Doctor Dolittle

Did they have an imaginary     childhood friend? Oh, for sure. His name was also Max, like her brother,     was the same age, but was always there to play with her.

When was the last time they     were crushed with disappointment? When she thought Binx had left her.

What past act are they most     ashamed of? Unleashing the witches onto the world. She wouldn’t take it     back, because it brought so much to her life, but she is aware of the     danger of it. It’s a complicated feeling that she struggles to navigate.

LOVE

Do they believe in love at     first sight? I think she does in the way that most young people have an     impractical idea of what love is, but she would say that she doesn’t     believe in love at first sight though.

Are they in a relationship? Not     at the moment.

How do they behave in a     relationship? She’s all about the fun aspects of relationships. She loves     just goofing off with the person, is constantly looking for excuses to be     around them, trying to make them laugh and have fun with her.

When did you character last     have sex? A couple years ago.

What sort of sex do they have? The     inexperienced kind.

Has your character ever been in     love? Nope

Have they ever had their heart     broken? … probably, but only in like, having a deep crush on a guy who     doesn’t like her back and how that feels really serious and     earth-shattering in that moment when you’re young.

CONFLICT

How do they respond to a     threat? She tells her army of hot immortal men… lol, she actually can get     a little mouthy when she’s in danger. It’s her defense mechanism.

Are they most likely to fight     with their fists or their tongue? Tongue, but she’s not unwilling to fight     with her fists. She never has, but she could.

What is your character’s     kryptonite? If someone she loves is in danger, she would probably give the     person whatever they wanted.

If your character could only     save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? Her cat.

How do they perceive strangers?     She used to be very open with strangers, and to an extent, she still is.     She’ll tell you her life story if you get her going. It doesn’t mean she     is as willing to trust people as she used to be with the important things.

What is their choice of weapon?     Flamethrower, if she’s being given the option. Who would pick anything     else?

What living person do they most     despise? The witches.

Have they ever been bullied or     teased? Nothing serious, I doubt.

Where do they go when they’re     angry? Dani is very much a pillow screamer. Her pillow, your pillow, if     she gets pissed, no pillow is safe from being screamed into.

Who are their enemies and why?     The witches. They might give a damn about Dani but she feels its her duty     to keep people safe from them. She doesn’t know how to do that yet, but     she’s learning. She’s ready to make them give a damn.

WORK, EDUCATION AND HOBBIES

What is their current job? Student.

What are some of their past     jobs? She once wore an awful hat and sold corndogs on a pier before they     moved here.

What are their hobbies? She     loves a good adventure as much as she loves digging into Howl’s collection     of magic materials.

Educational background?     Standard public education.

Intelligence level? Average.

Do they play a sport? Are they     any good? She played soccer through high school and was decent enough at     it to make the All-State team.

What is their socioeconomic     status? Middle class.

FAVORITES

What is their favorite animal?     Cat.

Which animal do they dislike     the most? Monkeys because one pulled her hair once on vacation.

What place would they most like     to visit? Egypt

What is the most beautiful     thing they’ve ever seen? The rare and elusive Binx smile

What is their favorite song?     Whistle by Blackpink

Music, art, reading preferred?     Music

What is their favorite color?     Black

What is their password? Dani101was101here101

Favorite food: Pizza

What is their favorite work of     art? She is not that discerning.

Who is their favorite artist?     She only knows the biggies. That Michelangelo seemed to know what he was     doing.

What is their favorite day of     the week? Friday

POSSESSIONS

What is in their fridge?     Leftover pizza, bottles of water, a thing of whiskey hidden behind some Cokes.

What is on their bedside table?     Alarm clock, phone charger, lamp

What is in their car? Phone charger,     some takeout trash in a garbage bag

What is in their purse or     wallet? Wallet, phone, some treats for when Binx is in cat form, and also     candy for both of them when he isn’t

What is in their pockets? Keys

SPIRITUALITY

Do they believe in the     afterlife? She would have said no before now, but she’s at this point     where she really doesn’t know what to believe about anything. She’s     searching for the answers to these questions that will help the world make     sense to her again.

What are their religious views?     Searching.

What do they think heaven is?     If there is a heaven, it is probably pretty close to the Christian version     – but she would also tell you she really doesn’t know what other people     believe besides so she might not be the best to ask.

What do they think hell is?     Fire.

Are they superstitious? I think     she’s probably fairly superstitious at this point in her life. If magic is     real, then all bets are off on what else is or is not.

What would they like to be     reincarnated as? Something cool, like a falcon.

How would they like to die? Quick     and painless, please.

What is your character’s spirit     animal? Probably a chipmunk or something along those lines.

What is their zodiac sign?     Cancer

VALUES

What do they think is the worst     thing that can be done to a person? Abandonment

What is their view of     ‘freedom’? I highly doubt she’s given this much thought. Just being free to     do what you want.

When did they last lie? Maybe a     couple days ago… little white lies, nothing serious.

What’s their view of lying? If     something is serious, it is best not to.

When did they last make a     promise? Earlier today? She throws promises around like softballs.

Did they keep or break their     last promise? Keep. She always tries to keep them.

DAILY LIFE

What are their eating habits? I     mean, probably not great. She’s a college student, so a lot of Ramen and     pizza.

Describe their home. Just an     average middle class home. Her own room that’s done up with posters and     black and purple.

Are they minimalist or a     clutter hoarder? Clutter hoarder.

What do they do first thing on     a weekday morning? Coffee.

What do they do on a Sunday     afternoon? Lay around in her room with Binx or at Howl’s shop.

What do they do on a Friday     night? She loves a good party.

What is the soft drink of     choice? Dr. Pepper

What is their alcoholic drink     of choice? Whiskey and coke (see: what’s in her fridge)

MISCELLANEOUS

What or who would your     character dress up as for Halloween? She loves Halloween and a great     monster costume.

Are they comfortable with     technology? I would say she has the average teen grasp of technology.

If they could save one person,     who would it be? Binx or a member of her family

If they could call one person     for help, who would it be? Howl seems the most capable

What is their perception of     redemption? Everyone is capable of redemption, but she’s aware that giving     people that second chance is easier said than done.

What would they do if they won     the lottery? Put it all in a room and then roll around in it.

What is their favourite     fairytale? Jack and the Beanstalk

What fairytale do they hate?     Snow White

Do they believe in happy     endings? She believes some people get them and hopes that she’s one of the     lucky ones that does.

What is their idea of perfect     happiness? She’s sitting in a room, surrounded by the people she loves,     all laughing, all talking, all enjoying each other.

What would they ask a fortune     teller? She would be completely unable to narrow that down. She’d just be     like, tell me everything you see!!

If your character could travel     through time, where would they go? Dinosaurs, baby!

What sport do they excel at?     Soccer

What sport do they suck at?     Basketball

If they could have a     superpower, what would they choose? Invisibility

[angelicspaceprince]

Take Me To Church

Author: Ama

Title: Take Me To Church

Pairing: Zhuk/Reader

Character/s: Zhuk

Word Count: 6, 437 words

Warnings: Smut (18+ only please), cockwarming, tentacles, Priest Kink, sex in a church, Demon Priest, hypnosis, aphrodisiac, stomach bulge, double and triple penetration, sex on an altar

Prompt: You were just trying to keep to yourself and avoid the rain when no one seemed to want to help you after you are left stranded in the middle of nowhere. The thing that lives in this abandoned church seems to have other ideas.

Notes: I set out to destroy myself and managed to take some people down with me. It was.....fun. Many hours of work and putting it off, its finally done. Also. There is a part two in the works so if you want to be tagged in it....send me an ask. Translations for long pieces of Russian is at the bottom of the post in order of appearance. Enjoy.

Buy Me a Coffee

Take Me To Church

You hadn’t meant to get lost at this time of night. It was dark, it was raining, and you were just done with today. Your car broke down in the middle of nowhere, you walked for hours, getting lost and finally finding your way to a near-abandoned town and, once you found someone to actually help you, every door was slammed in your face. Rain turned into a storm, a downpour, and you just wanted somewhere to hide until the rain passed. You saw a rundown looking church when you first walked into the town, and that was only a block away. Perhaps there would do? As far as you knew, churches were open to all in need, and you were in need of not getting sick before finding a phone to call for a mechanic.

You shuffle in and move to sit on one of the pews. It was empty, cold, made of grey stone that seemed to be crumbling in places with stained glass windows, some broken and covered with increasingly dampening cardboard whilst others stayed intact. You weren’t fussy. It’ll do for now. You are dripping with the rainwater, the only sound in the entire church is your laboured breath from running and the drip, drip of water running down your hair and onto the floor. You think for a minute - is it really a good idea to be staying in these wet, cold clothes? You look around, no one else is in the church that you know of. Perhaps you should just slide your coat off.

The desire to at least see how wet your clothes were under your coat proves to be too great as you carefully slide it off and lay it beside you. Your clothes are plastered to your body, saturated from the intense weather. You sigh loudly in defeat, you just couldn’t win today.

The sound of the door opening and closing loudly followed by the gruff voice of the bar patron stirs you from your self-pitying thoughts. Fuck, you said you were going to leave and wait by your car. You couldn’t bear the idea of getting into another argument with the man. You look around for somewhere to hide, eyes flickering to the confessional. Maybe? It was certainly the closest.

You dash in, leaving your jacket behind, and close the door behind you, moving to sit on the surprisingly comfortable seat. You weren’t an expert in these sorts of things, but you thought these to be always uncomfortable and wooden, but this was almost like a cushion that went from the bottom of the seat all the way up above your head. Even if it was lumpy, it was more comfortable than the pews out there.

It was dark, and the only thing you could hear was your laboured breath and the steps of someone investigating the church. You swear he is nearby, you hold your breath and try to keep yourself silent when what you think is him brushes past the confessional.

A low, rumbling voice shocks you as he greets the bar patron, asking if he is well. You can’t quite make out the conversation, except for the newer voice reassuring the man that everything is okay, he has it sorted, and he can go home now. There is a bit more back and forth that slowly fades as the new man leads the bar patron away. You let out a small sigh of relief, sagging back slightly. Now you just have to wait for him to leave before you can get out of here. You don’t feel safe here, you need to get back to your car, weather be damned! You’d rather battle out a horrid respiratory infection than be in some weird cult sacrifice to the village’s local god, or whatever Stephen King-esque thing this town seemed to be into.

You wait quietly, trying to quiet your loud, uneven breaths as your adrenaline slowly starts to wane. Seconds before you go to leave, you feel it. Something cold, slimy, slippery curls its way around your foot. Before you even have a chance to jump or scream, the confessional screen opens, causing you to jolt and the thing to unhook from your ankle. You look down and see nothing. Perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you. But you still have a problem. The priest now knows you’re here. How were you going to explain that you were hiding from someone like a child, simply because you didn’t want to interact with them?

“Do you have anything you wish to confess?” He finally asks, his heavily accented voice giving you a small shock, having grown tired of the silence that stretches between the two of you.

You wince. “Well, actually, uh-” You trail off, and you can almost feel the amusement rolling off of him in waves.

“Or were you just hiding from Mr MacNamara?” His voice is kind, but also bemused. Even then, it’s calming and draws you in. Just something about it, something tinged within it makes you think there is something he is hiding. You shake it off, what would a priest have to hide?

“Yeah.” You say quietly, guiltily. “I’m sorry si- Father, I’ll go.” It wasn’t really polite or religiously sensitive to hide in what you believed to be a sacred place, at least to the priest.

Your hand barely leaves your side, however, when he speaks. “Never mind the reason you originally came here, my child. You are here now, there must be something you need to get off your chest. Why else would you run and hide into a church and then a confessional, unless you have a guilty conscience or something you need to speak about.” He offers softly, his voice drawing you closer and closer to him as you feel your body relax into the soft booth. You jolt. No. You shouldn’t be here. You are making a mockery of his religion, at least, you feel like you are.

“I’m not Catholic. Or religious.” You state bluntly.

“My confessional is open to all who need to clear their heart and mind.” He doesn’t sound like he’s insisting, rather that he’s just patient. Waiting for you to finally crumble and agree to confess to something. You might as well. Just to let him leave you alone.

“Where do you want me to start?” You sigh dramatically, leaning back and getting comfortable. If he wanted a confession, you were going to waste his time a little.

“Perhaps the one that is weighing you down the most.” He instructs, amusement seeping in his accented voice. What was it? Russian?

You shrug. “Lusted over a married man, that’s a pretty big sin I suppose. Would you consider it a major sin, Father?” You start with the one you are sure he will question the most and then have you move on and leave. The idea of making the priest squirm amuses you, and you’re almost tempted to state that you lusted over a man of God to see what he’d say. Alas, you decide against it. He stays silent for a second.

“Did you tempt him?”

“God yeah.” You try not to act proud. “Worked too. That’s adultery, isn’t it? Or at least, tempting someone into adultery.”

“Did you enjoy it?” He sounds slightly conflicted. Good.

You can feel your body begin to melt and relax into the pew, shifting slightly as you start to grow warm, starting from your ankles, almost like a blanket has been placed over your feet. “Mhm.” Is all you can get out. “It was. Good. We didn’t regret it. It happened a few times, but. Neither of us regretted it.”

“Did the wife know?” You shrug.

“Dunno. Don’t care, to be honest.” Silence begins to tick over you as you wait for your dismissal. But it doesn’t come.

“Anything else you wish to confess before I give you your penance?” His voice is still soft, inviting. You go to groan as he speaks again. “You’re here, you might as well use this time wisely.”

Wisely. Yeah right. Your jaw clicks, taking the challenge as you start to ‘confess’ your many sins. Missing mass, as you’ve never been to mass since after your confirmation, using contraception as every good girl does, being envious of others, having bouts of extreme anger, the times you had sex with another girl, both taking the Lord’s name in vain and being blasphemous, your slightly excessive masturbation habit, every lie you could think of, how you left religion behind a long time ago, your impressive pornography collection. Every little thing becomes pettier and pettier as you try to get him to shut you up and leave, but instead, he just keeps asking question after question, digging deeper as if trying to figure out what to add to your penance. You even stooped so low to start telling him about the time you stole chocolate from your local supermarket when you were a toddler, and every pen, eraser, piece of candy, anything from anyone as a child, be it malicious or by accident. Your eyes look firmly in the space in front of you, a dark nothingness - didn’t they have candles or something to light up this incredibly dark room? -, but better than to see his face and how schooled it must be. That would frustrate you even more. He didn’t get annoyed, or frustrated, or anything. Eventually, however, he decided he didn’t want to play your game anymore. “Y/N, look at me.”

You are so busy with your revenge that you don’t feel your body slowly growing warmer and warmer, relaxing into the soft back of the confessional seat, voice growing softer as your eyes start to close. That one command to look at him has your eyes snapping open as you turn to look him in the eye.

They were glowing.

Wait a minute.

You didn’t tell him your name.

But that’s not the thing that’s concerning you now, your eyes beginning to bulge out of your head when you take in the sight before you.

Bright amber eyes encourage you to relax for him, obey him, trust in him, which didn’t concern you at this moment. No, what concerned you were the mass amount of tentacles that seemed to be coming out of his back, covering his back wall and crawling your way into your small cubicle. You see him smirk faintly at your realisation. “Relax, Y/N. Do not worry about them, malen'kiy. Focus on my voice instead.” He instructs quietly, and it almost works. Were it not for the cold jab in your gut when you realise. Something was moving over you.

You look down and let out a loud gasp of air, your body in so much shock a scream couldn’t form. Every inch of your part of the confessional was crawling with tentacles. They filled the walls, the floor and, to your horror, was the cushion between you and the hard, uncomfortable wood of the confessional chair. “I-”

“Shhh, malyshka, don’t stress yourself. They won’t harm you.” He sounds bemused as you start to squirm, finding your movement restricted. You struggle, and something seems to squeeze you until you stop.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Like a long, black snake, one of the tentacles had slowly wound its way up your legs, waist, hips and was slowly beginning to climb its way up to your torso and shoulders. “Dorogoy, relax.” He reminds you gently, voice inviting, warm. You relax as you feel the tentacle coil around you another time, slowly, gently.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. That was enough for you. You grab the doorframe, ignoring the tentacles now moving to hold you there, and you use it as leverage to pull yourself up and out of his grasp, slime from the one grasping onto you giving you enough leeway to climb out and into the cold of the stone church, tugging back on your hands until they are freed as you land on your back, scurrying back against the rough floor. You are freezing again and, when you look down, you realise that you had been worked out of your clothes, leaving you in just your bra and panties. You move to stand and rush towards the still slightly cracked open door when the other side of the confessional opens, tentacles that were once climbing out of the door you just lept from moving back into the shadows. Your blood turns to ice as you freeze in place as his loud footsteps echo through the room.

He’s huge.

Tall, dressed in the usual black slacks and shirt with the clerical collar that you’d expect all priests to wear, he was intimidating. The scar over one of his still bright and bemused amber eyes doing nothing to settle you as what seemed like countless, black, dripping, slimy tentacles came out from behind him, all constantly moving. You swallow, unable to move or think as you look at him. He couldn’t be human, a demon perhaps? But you thought no demon could ever set foot in a church?

“Ne boysya, ne begi, moy rebenok.” He speaks softly as the tentacles start to climb the floor directly towards your feet.

It was enough to break the spell. You stand up and bolt in the opposite direction, away from the door. Surely there was a back exit? You dash and, somehow, escape every grab attempt he makes at you as he calmly, slowly, follows you. He knows this church like the back of his hand, and he knows there is no escape for you. You trip over nothing, landing flat on the floor as something twists its way up your ankle and calf. Hot adrenaline kicks in and you kick back wildly until you are free and able to make another mad dash towards the back of the church.

Nothing.

Not a door, not even a window. A set of rickety-looking stairs. You look behind you and see his shadow slowly come into the doorway, his tentacles climbing the walls, ceiling, floor, slowly. As if searching for you. Another hot pump of adrenaline hits your body as you instantly run up the stairs, yelping when one gives way under your feet. You hear his chuckle, low and dark as he stands at the bottom of the stairwell, just staring up at you as you pull yourself up to the top stair. “Don’t hurt yourself, Y/N, ya predpochitayu, chtoby moi blyuda ostavalis' tselymi i nevredimymi, poka ya ne poluchu ikh v svoi ruki.” He purrs as his ever-moving appendages stop for a split second before rushing directly towards you.

You can’t help the scream that leaves your lips as you rush past the open door and slam it shut behind you, his loud laugh echoing into the room around you as you see the black, oozy tendrils, smaller than the main tentacles but still just as scary somehow, slowly make their way under the gaps of the door, slowly covering and dissolving the wood with their goo. Fuck. You need to keep running.

Up on the upper floor, there really wasn’t anything. A little nest of coats and blankets, obviously a makeshift bed, and a broken-down organ. You look over the edge as the door starts to shake, already on awful foundations, it won’t take long for it to break down. If you could just get downstairs and hide until he went searching for you, then you can make a run for the door. Your eyes scan what you had around you, knowing that if you jumped you’d probably break your neck on impact. Then you see it. A ladder. It looks old with the wood rotting, but it will suit your needs for now.

You rush over and start climbing down the ladder quickly, hitting the ground underneath the mezzanine just in time to hear the door break. Shit. No way you could make a run for the door now, even then beforehand your chances were slim. You remain well hidden from him as you plaster your back against the wall so as he looks over the church, not an inch of you or your shadow can be seen. He takes in a deep breath through his nose as you look for a hiding spot.

“I can smell your fear, zakuska.” He purrs. “It smells delicious.” You swallow as you continue to search before realising. The altar.

You lift the piece of fabric that reaches all the way to the ground and bite back a cry of success. There is a gap there big enough for you to hide. You smuggle your way in, unseen by the demon as you curl up and try to quieten and control your breathing.

His feet land heavily on the stone floor seconds later as he apparently grows tired of your game and jumps from the upper floor. You jolt when you realise he’s landed on the other side of the altar. Just stay quiet, and wait until he’s gone. Then you can run. Your stomach feels sick with nerves as you wait and listen to the demon’s footsteps as they fill the church. You don’t realise it yet, but he is pacing around the altar, smelling your scent and knowing exactly where you are hiding.

His low chuckle sounds even more ominous as it echoes around the empty church. “You can't hide from me now, roza. I grew up in this church, I know every inch of its cold walls, every shadow, every crack, every stone. Give up now, and I may just go easy on you.” He warns. You stay still. There is no way you are giving in to him, not now. Not ever. You’ll hide until you get the opportunity to run. “No? Alright then. Just remember, little one, you chose your fate.” He sounds tired as he says this and, before you know it, the cloth is pulled back and everything on it clatters to the ground and he is right there in front of you, sharp teeth gleaming as he stares at you. “Hello there roza. It appears that I’ve caught you.” He teases. Before you can even get a chance to move, you are dragged out into the air, warm vines sliding their way around your body and hoisting you into the air as they move to support your legs, arms, torso. Even one is so considerate to support your head. Higher and higher you go, them tightening as you struggle as if to keep you steady. “I wouldn’t continue that if I were you, Y/N.” He warns. “It wouldn’t be a pleasant landing if you do.” The threat is crystal clear. You fall, he won’t be catching you.

You go deadly still and try to bite back a sob. He caught you and now he has you. Suspended in the air in just your underwear, nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. You were his.

You don’t even register the tentacle pressing against your lips until it’s made its way into your mouth, tasting salty yet strangely sweet as it pushes into your mouth and down your throat, causing you to choke slightly. It pulls back to just before where you started to gag and tear up and slowly starts to pump a thick, almost syrupy liquid, causing you to gulp out of fear of drowning in the air. For a hot second, the idea of biting down to hurt him crosses your mind, but his threat rings again in your ear. You could faintly hear the splat of you falling to your death if you did something wrong in the back of your mind. So, you continue to drink whatever it was filling your system, not noticing how your once tense muscles start to relax into the hold of the black, leaking appendages or how your face is becoming flushed, eyes glazed, body slowly beginning to warm despite the cool air. All you can feel is the throb between your legs and just how empty you feel. You whine, the sound quiet with your mouth stretched open as you start to suck, hips beginning to buck against nothing. You need to be full, you need something inside of you. You start to claw at your little clothing, even that’s too much of a barrier. You need to be full, to be touched, to be fucked. You can feel the demon’s amusement under you as he slowly starts to help, tendrils moving to tug down at your panties as others unhook and slide off your bra, leaving you bare as you continue to ride against nothing. You are already wet down to your knees, slick just dripping from your already sopping wet sex just from being given a little dose of….whatever it was he was feeding you.

You don’t even realise you’ve been lowered onto the altar until the cold marble was pressed against your skin, two large, cool hands tugging your knees apart so amber eyes could look down over you. His hair is a dark green mixed with magenta whereas before, you swore it was just green or black with a trick of the light changing its colour. What did that mean?

It didn’t matter now, all that mattered was being full. You whine pitifully as you jerk your hips up, coaxing him to at least slide a finger into you to relieve the pressure. He snickers at your desperate attempts for help before one of the thinner tentacles moves to press against your entrance, entering maybe an inch before withdrawing teasingly before finally, it pushes in slowly, confidently, until it’s pressing against your cervix. You clench around him, moaning softly as he stares down at you, the rims of his eyes slowly turning a matching magenta colour. Was he staring down at you hungrily or adoringly? Fuck it, you don’t care at this moment.

You grind up at him, babbling nonsense from your still full mouth as you try to beg for more. He tuts, taking pity on you as the tentacle inside of you begins to expand, slowly filling and stretching you out as you shudder around him. You felt so full, it felt perfect. All you needed. You rotate your hips, encouraging him to move, goddamnit, letting out a small whine as you feel him slowly pull out only to thrust back in, the movement bouncing you up the altar slightly. Fuck. You are sure nothing has ever felt so good in your entire life. It’s not long before the tentacle down your throat and the one in your pussy start to move in tandem, you being helpless to do anything but just suck and clench and cling on for dear life as you feel yourself go higher and higher, right to the very brink. Like waves crashing against a cliff, so does your orgasm in that moment, wave after wave hitting you as you cry out around the appendage in your mouth, clenching around the one inside of you as you jolt up as white-hot pleasure washes over you again and again.

Your hips twitch lazily as you feel the heat that bubbled over slowly return to its previously itching warmth. That couldn’t be the end of it, right? Surely not. You need more. More, more, more, more.

“Oh, malen'kaya zakuska,” his growl sends shivers up your spine as you feel his nails dig into your skin, leaving large crescent-shaped welts in their wake, “this is far from over.”

You whine as you start to feel the feelers inside of you start to move again, this time more roughly if at all possible. It wasn’t enough, why did you feel so empty? It’s not until you feel something small probe at your ass that you realise what you were missing. Yes.

The tendril pushes in slightly, just the tip slipping inside of you before a small gush of something hot, wet and sticky floods you. Then, slowly, almost gently, it starts to fill you, just enough that you’ll feel completely full once it’s finished. Slowly, it starts to grow and expand, thickening as it stretches you out, sating the heat inside your belly as well as making it erupt into an inferno as your blood boils, eyes rolling back as your ass joins in the brutal fucking. You barely have the energy to move, using what little energy you have left to babble out the words ‘please’ and ‘Father’ over and over, muffled with your mouth full, your arms and legs laying limp, dangling off the altar as your toes curl every time he hits a spot deep inside of you that causes electricity to course through your veins, each time a loud grunt falls from your lips, echoing in the room. You can hear his deep laugh and feel his amusement roll off of him in waves as he continues to fuck you nice and deep, everything moving almost inhumanely fast, your brain barely able to keep up.

Your body still sensitive from your last orgasm, it doesn’t take long for another to wash over you, more powerful than the last, your entire body shaking as you feel your slick slowly slide down your thighs and the ornate table under you before audibly dripping onto the floor right next to the priest’s feet. Your body tenses, it feels like you have been set on fire as your body is engulfed once again in a white-hot blaze as a hoarse scream leaves your throat, hands curling into fists before your body slowly relaxes again, feeling boneless and like you’re made of jelly, you try to catch your breath.

It still wasn’t enough.

The Father’s hands move from your hips to beside your face, caging you in against him, the look in his eyes positively feral as he takes in your fucked out frame, glazed eyes and mindless, dopey smile. He purrs as the tentacle inside your cunt slowly slips out, his grin widening when you protest weakly. “Shh, malen'kiy, I’m not through with you yet.” He growls lowly. You feel the head of his cock brush between your folds, collecting your slick as he prepares himself. He feels huge, like nothing you’ve ever had inside of you before. If you weren’t so high on endorphins and whatever he had pumped into you, you’d be frightened. But now? You crave it.

Your hips tilt upwards slightly for a bare second before slamming back against the stone of the altar. A clear invitation. Fuck me.

Slowly, he pushes inside of you, the mass of tentacles from his back beginning to slide up the sides of the altar and over your body as he does so. It feels like an eternity before he bottoms out, feeling stretched to the absolute limit, as you cry out loudly. Finally. It feels right. You feel absolutely perfect with him inside of you, the Goldilocks Zone, not too big, not too small. Just right. You could finally settle.

Unfortunately, the priest has other plans. It feels like he is waiting for you to adjust, but you feel a smaller, thinner tendril slowly wrap around his cock as he sits inside of you, slowly making it become almost ribbed in texture. At the same time, you feel something else slide into your mouth, another tentacle of the same size as the one currently occupying your throat, twirling with its twin as it does so and yet another, albeit smaller, one probe at your ass, slowly sliding into you without hesitation, ready to join in the fun. You can feel two slowly trail up your stomach and twist around your breasts once, twice, enough to squeeze them roughly as the tips open up to cover over your nipples and start sucking away gently. Finally, one more tendril, smaller than all the rest, moves to flick at your clit, causing your head to slam back as it causes a near painful jolt through your system. The priest chuckles, his hand moving to rub at the back of your head tenderly, making sure you haven’t hurt yourself before it returns to its previous position. “Ready, roza?” He asks softly, eyes watching yours for any notion of approval for him to continue.

You nod, slightly confused by his sudden gentle demeanour. His wicked smile returns, his hips rolling against yours as he groans lowly as he takes in just out tight and warm you are, in comparison to his cool body. “Fuck, malyshka, you take me so well.” He growls as you moan around the appendages stretching out your throat, the tendril around his cock dragging against your walls deliciously. Slowly, but surely, every growth out of his back moves in tandem, the ones in your ass withdrawing when his cock enters you and pushing deep inside you when he pulls out, leaving just the tip inside. Your tits being squeezed and sucked at every time the tentacles in your throat pulls back, only to relax when they advance forward again. The small one on your clit, however, never lets up. Each little flick causes you to buck up as you just try to hold on for the ride, eyes never leaving the priest’s in front of you as he stares down at you possessively, little growls leaving him every so often.

Eventually, every thrust up into you causes loud noises to leave your body, barely able to keep up you just accept what is given to you as your body tenses, ready to be taken over that abyss once more. Your mouth goes slack, drool pooling in your mouth before slowly dripping out, leaving your checks wet in its wake. Something about the sight of you amuses the Father as he laughs his low, rumbly laugh as he looks down at you. “I think I’ll keep you. Kak ugoshcheniye. My own little toy to chase down and play with and fuck. What do you think about that, moya milaya malen'kaya blyad'?” When you don’t answer with words but with a pleading whine, his grin grows to an almost unnatural size, white teeth glinting in the faint light the candles around you provide. “Oh, how could I ever give such a pretty little thing like you up?” He purrs, his face moving down to press small kisses against your neck as you turn your head to the side, baring it openly for him. Something about that he apparently approved of, as suddenly his teeth are pressing down into your skin, a barely audible ‘mine’ vibrating against your skin before he slowly starts to suck, marking you. “Oh, I am definitely going to keep you, little Y/N.” He purrs happily, his thrusts becoming harsher and faster by the second.

It takes a few more flicks of your clit, and you definitely had been right on the brink since your last orgasm, before your entire body almost seizes as the near painful experience of you coming and coming and coming around him begins. A barely-there cry rips from your throat, you only just able to piece together the Father’s loud grunt before he’s spilling inside of you, on you, marking you. You were his. In every way possible.

You don’t so much as come down from your high as slam into darkness for a few seconds as your body twitches as the sensation of overstimulation begins to wrack through you. You are barely able to piece together the sensation of everything slowly pulling out of you and being collected into the priest’s arms, a warmed, too big coat wrapped around as he starts to walk towards the front door slowly. Your ears barely hear his voice, now soft and caring, as he talks to you in a gentle, loving tone. “-ika. Settle now, I've got you.”

You faintly recognise getting into a warmed car and it taking off before you start to fidget and whine loudly. “Empty.” You complain. After what felt like hours of being, if anything, too full to quickly being completely empty? No, no you needed something inside of you.

The priest tries to shush you before a small chuckle falls from his lips when he realises all attempts will end in vain. He carefully repositions you, sliding you down his rehardened cock with ease as it becomes your time to purr, resting your head against the crook of his neck as his hands move to rub your back and sides. “Rest now, moya lyubov'.” He instructs. And it’s an easy command to obey as you fall asleep, sitting in his lap with his cock inside of you as you are driven home.

You wake up to the sensation of someone rubbing some form of oil against your skin, the sound of a heavily accented voice murmuring small praises to you as you slowly regain awareness. You hiss at the feeling of coldness between your thighs, an ice pack having been pressed up against your pussy in order to help with the inevitable swelling that was going to occur after the beating it had been given. Your eyes flutter open and instantly make contact with the concerned amber ones of Zhuk’s. “Hey.” You say, voice a little hoarse from sleep, overuse and the throat fucking it endured.

“Hello, roza.” He says with a small smile, leaning over to grab the glass of water for you as you sit up slightly in order to sip at it. You fall back to the bed with a small grunt when your arms give out.

“Thank you.” You say, your lips quirked up into a small grin.

Several months ago, the two of you had found an abandoned town a few hours away from the manor, including a crumbly, old, haunted-looking church and a very grouchy man who lived in a house on the outskirts of town, the only resident who was determined to stay there until he died. Two weeks later, after you, Bajo and Cia ended up getting a little too into the alcohol, as Zhuk carried your ass to bed, getting everything ready for the inevitable hangover in the morning, you told him about a fantasy you had since pretty much the onset of puberty.

“I want to get fucked in a church.” You stated bluntly, his lips twitching as he tries to hold back the amused look in his face. “I blame Catholic school. I spent too much time in Mass. I wanted there to be a demon priest who could fuck me brainless.” You declared. “With tentacles.” You added as an afterthought, turning to look at your husband with wide eyes. “Snuggles?”

He obliged, placing the asprin and water bottle on your bedside table before sliding into bed behind you, pulling you into his arms as you snuggled up. “What brought this confession on, moya zhena?” He asked, hand moving instantly to play with your hair as you wrap your arms around his chest.

You hummed. “The town we passed when you made the wrong turn.” You yawned, struggling to finish your sentence. “Brought it back to life because the church there looked hella haunted. Like a demon should live there.”

Zhuk went to ask more questions, but your gentle snores made it apparent that anything asked wasn’t going to be answered.

After that, plans were made. Zhuk was all too happy to fulfil your little fantasy, even going so far to offer to hypnotise you in order to make it feel more real and less like a scene. Everything was planned down to a T, with him promising to create a cheat so if you really were in distress and wished for the scene to end, the hypnosis would break and you could safeword out.

And it worked brilliantly.

Zhuk smiles as he looks down at you softly, hand moving to brush your hair back as he constantly scans your body for more bruises, more scratches, more cuts. Anything that needed attending to, and to make sure that he didn’t hurt you too badly. “Anything for you, kotenok.” He says, voice quiet as he slowly picks you up and pulls you into his arms and lap. “You did so well, took everything I had to give and were so beautiful whilst doing it.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Do you feel alright, little one?” He asks concern still very much apparent in his voice. You nod a little jerkily.

“Just tired.” You say with a fucked out grin. You feel incredible, and you wanted to ride this high for as long as possible. “Hold me?”

“Of course.”

A few seconds tick by as he moves to lay down on the bed, you in his lap as his fingers trace loose patterns on your skin. A thought was hammering his head and it was refusing to move on.

“Roza….” he starts hesitantly, knowing that under the hypnosis he gave you, anything you said had a basis of truth in it, “was I the married man you lusted over?”

You snort a small noise as your eyes flicker up to look at him, your body beginning to slowly relax as it prepares for sleep. “Duh.” You say, amusement sparkling in your eyes.

That does not help the confusion clouding Zhuk’s mind. “I married you, moya zhena.” He reminds as if you could have forgotten.

You nod as if to agree with his statement, secretly enjoying the baffled look on his face as he tries to follow your logic. “I know. I still lusted and lust over you though.” You say, grinning up at him.

His confusion leaks into amusement, a fond look taking over his face. “Y/N, I don’t think it counts if you are married to the person.” He corrects you gently, hands moving from tracing patterns on your skin to rest on your waist.

You shrug. “You never know. Could work like that. Who’s to say?” You tease him, voice playful before you yawn against his chest.

He shakes his head, moving down to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Go to sleep, moya lyubov'.”

Even if the fatigue wasn’t seeping into your bones, you wouldn’t be able to help but obey as you slowly fall into a peaceful slumber in your husband’s arms.

Translations (In Order):

Don't be scared, don't run, my child.

I prefer my meals to remain unharmed until I get my hands on them.

As a treat. 

-my lovely little fucktoy?

[sunflowersupremes]

Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops.

Just the boys being dorks and getting stuck in a wall.  

Kinktober 2020: Stuck in a Wall & Toys Whumptober Day 28: Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops

Tags: Modern AU, NSFW

Characters: Geralt, Dandelion

Series: Witcher in Quarantine

Read on AO3

As part of his bribery to convince Dandelion not to break quarantine, Geralt had agreed to let the man help him to fix up the old house. He’d expected it to go poorly, because most things involving Dandelion did (in fact, he’d hoped Dandelion would grow bored within a few days. He had not).

What Geralt hadn’t anticipated was Dandelion trying to squeeze through the old wall they were working on. It had a large hole it in, nearly at waist height, that Geralt was trying to decide the best method of covering it. At some point in the past it might have served a purpose - he vaguely recalled it being part of a dumbwaiter, but the rest of the holes had been patched up.

So they had decided just to board over it, Dandelion on one side and Geralt on the other. He’d turned his back for just a moment then turned back around to see Dandelion’s head and shoulders poking out of the wall.

Apparently he’d decided he ought to squeeze through to surprise Geralt.

It did surprise him, but then Dandelion had gotten stuck.

Once he finished laughing at him, Geralt went around to the room Dandelion had been working in to see if he might be able to get him out easier that way.

He wasn’t presented with any solutions, only Dandelion’s ass wriggling about as the man whined and protested. His hands were apparently stuck in the wall, since Geralt couldn’t see them on either side, leaving him completely incapacitated.  It seemed that in the process of wiggling through the wall Dandelion had knocked loose part of the old dumbwaiter which had slid down and pinned him. It would be an easy enough fix, he’d only have to go up into the attic and raise the pulleys, but for the time being it was most enjoyable to watch Dandelion struggle.

Unable to resist, Geralt landed a sharp smack on his butt.

“Ow!” Dandelion’s voice was somewhat muffled, given that his head was on the other side of the wall, but Geralt could hear his irritation. “What was that for?”

“Stupidity,” he replied, giving him another smack.

“Rude,” the singer grumbled. “Geralt, get me out.”

“Why should I?” retorted the Witcher. “At least if you’re stuck in a wall I won’t have to worry about you wandering off to go into town.”

“Geralt!” He struggled pathetically for a moment, then went limp. “I’m stuck,” he whined.

“I thought we had already established that, bard.” It usually amused Dandelion when Geralt used old fashioned terms like “bard” but at the moment he seemed too frustrated.  

“No, Geralt, I’m really stuck, like Winnie the Pooh in Rabbit’s hole.”

Winnie the Pooh? Geralt snorted. “How old are you again, Dandelion?”

The poet attempted to kick him, but Geralt stepped back easily, then landed another slap on his ass, then left his hand resting there.

“Geeraalt.”

“Hmm, I’m considering it.”

“Considering? Considering what?”

He didn’t speak, instead pressing his thumb between Dandelion’s asscheeks, above his hole.

Dandelion yelped as he felt the pressure through his thin leggings. “You wouldn’t! Geralt!”

Well, thought the Witcher with a grin, he didn’t actually say no. Kneeling down, he peeled back Dandelion’s pants, pressing kisses against his exposed skin. The singer whimpered and struggled.

“Settle down, Dandelion,” he said. “I’ll give you what you want.”

“How do you know what I want?”

In answer, the Witcher bit his ass, pulling a breathy moan from his friend. “Geeraalt.”

“Yes, Dandelion?”

“You’re cruel.”

He laughed, scratching Dandelion’s back and pushing himself up. “Where are you going?” Dandelion shouted as he stepped away.

Geralt didn’t answer, deciding it would annoy the singer more if he remained silent. He grabbed what he needed and then made his way back to his friend. Dandelion was clearly unhappy, even from only behind able to see his lower half. Geralt sat the toy he’d brought on the ground, then drizzled a bit of the lube over Dandelion’s backside.

“Please,” Dandelion whined.

“Please what?”

Dandelion sniffled. “Geralt, this is not comfortable-”

“Just say your word and I’ll stop.”

But Dandelion’s safe word didn’t make an appearance, so Geralt scooped up a bit of lube on one finger before pressing it inside the singer’s ass slowly. Dandelion twitched around him, groaning.

Geralt rested his free hand on Dandelion’s back, rubbing soothing circles, until the man was nearly limp. Then he added a bit more lube - despite Dandelion’s grumbles that he was slick enough - and pushed in a second finger.

“Now,” Geralt said, slowly spreading two fingers. “We need to have a talk about something.”

“We- what? Is this the time?” Dandelion asked breathlessly.

“You can’t go fooling about in this house, Dandelion, it’s not safe. There’s all manner of things that could hurt you. I imagine you thought it was terribly clever going through the wall, but don’t make a habit of practical jokes.”

“Geralt-”

He withdrew his fingers and struck Dandelion’s ass firmly. “Am I clear Dandelion?” he asked.

“Ow! Yes, Geralt. I’ll behave.”

Geralt didn’t believe him for one moment, and landed several more slaps on the poet’s backside.

“Geeeeraaalltttt.”

He finally stopped the punishment, deciding instead that he’d rather make Dandelion feel good. Dropping to his knees Geralt pressed a kiss against Dandelion’s hole, drawing a long, delighted whine from the singer. “Oh Geralt, please,” he moaned.

Geralt pressed lazy kisses up and down Dandelion’s thighs, using his fingers to carefully tease his cock and balls. After a few moments he slowly pressed his fingers back inside Dandelion, curling them until he found the bundle of nerves he’d been looking for.

Dandelion cried out with delight and Geralt smiled. It didn’t take much to stretch Dandelion enough - the singer liked a bit of burn when he was entered, and he was good at relaxing his muscles, so soon Geralt was unbuttoning his pants, sliding them down just enough so that he could pull out his cock.

After applying a bit more lube, he lined up with Dandelion’s hole. “Relax,” he urged before slipping his cockhead in past the tight ring of muscle.

Dandelion let out a keening wail. Geralt paused, waiting to see if the man’s safe word would be used, but after a moment (during which Dandelion attempted to press back against him) Geralt decided it was safe to keep going.

He pulled out, gripped Dandelion’s hips, and slammed in roughly.

His friend cried out in pain, then, before Geralt could ask if he was alright, gasped, “More!”

Geralt didn’t need to be told twice. He set a brutal pace, fucking into Dandelion’s welcoming body.

He didn’t bother dragging it out, he’d already been hard since he’d see Dandelion’s ass wriggling about in the wall. Besides, he had more plans for the afternoon than a long, lazy fuck (not to mention, he preferred to keep that sort of entertainment in an actual bed).

After a few breathless minutes, Geralt felt his balls tightening and he pressed himself as deep inside Dandelion as possible, digging his nails into the singer’s tender flesh to make him whimper and clench.

That was enough to push him over the edge and Geralt groaned in ecstasy.

He took a moment after his orgasm to get himself under control, then wiped himself clean and buttoned his pants back up.

Dandelion, unable to touch himself, was still hard and desperate. “Geralt- Geralt- I- oh fuck I’m so hard,” he babbled breathlessly. “I can’t- Geralt touch me, my hands- stuck- please.”

Geralt rubbed his back slowly, then knelt down and picked up the toy he’d brought earlier. It was one of Dandelion’s that the man had brought with him, and Geralt hadn’t gotten a chance to try it out before. As a self proclaimed sex expert, Dandelion had all manner of toys, which came as a surprise to Geralt who didn’t understand why so many of them needed to be charged. The one he’d picked out even had a remote control.

He studied it for a moment, as Dandelion continued to writhe and beg. Once he was certain he’d figured it out, he carefully pushed it inside Dandelion’s ass. He stepped back, slipping the remote into his pocket.

“Hey!” Dandelion yelped. “Geralt you bastard! Take it out!”

Instead of obeying, Geralt landed a hard slap on his ass. “I think not,” he said. “I’m far happier knowing where you are, after all, so that you can’t sneak off and try to go to town.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do,” Geralt replied, eyeing his still hard cock. Knowing it would annoy Dandelion, he pulled the man’s leggings back up, pausing only to squeeze his cock and press one last kiss to his ass. Although tempted to make Dandelion remain pantsless, didn’t want to risk him getting cold (and it would annoy him to have lube and cum in his leggings, which was a good excuse for them both to soak in a tub). Then he landed one last slap on Dandelion’s ass and strode away.

He returned to the room he’d been working in earlier, where Dandelion’s head was poking out. His face was flushed and streaked with tears and dust and he had a pout on his face that no adult ought to have been able to pull off.

Geralt pulled a stool across the room and sat beside him, gently cupping his friend’s face.

“Geeraalt,” he whined pathetically.

“Pipe down, Dandelion,” the Witcher soothed, stroking his cheeks. “I’ll get you out in a few minutes.”

“Geralt my cock is going to fall off,” Dandelion moaned.

The Witcher snorted. “Don’t be so dramatic, Dandelion,” he scolded.

“I’m being completely serious, Geralt, this- this isn’t funny, it hurts,” he whined, giving the Witcher a pleading look.

Geralt discreetly slipped one hand into his pocket and clicked the button on the remote. It must have been almost instant, because Dandelion lurched and cried out.

“Feeling better?” Geralt asked, tilting his head.

Dandelion groaned. “What- ah- what color- was the toy?”

“Purple.”

“Oh gods.”

Geralt studied him with a frown. “Is that bad?” he asked worriedly.

“I like this one,” Dandelion mumbled breathlessly.

Geralt nodded, pleased that he’d not accidentally upset his partner. Then he stood and turned his back on Dandelion, picking up the discarded tools that he’d set aside when Dandelion burst through the wall. As the singer watched in horror, he started patching up the smaller holes in the wall, left over from nails and screws (and a few from a fist fight he’d once had with Eskel).

“Oh my god,” Dandelion gasped. “Geralt you aren’t actually going to- Geralt!”

“I said I’d get you out in a few minutes, Dandelion,” he said. “I’m certain you can entertain yourself until then.”

[renaroo]

Showing You Care

Disclaimer: Booster Gold, Blue Beetle, and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: References to the 90s, Death of Superman, Comas Pairings: Boostle Rating: T Synopsis: Ted Kord is not taking care of himself in the aftermath of his confrontation with Doomsday, but he is trying to care for someone else. He’s just very bad at how he goes about it.

A/N: I was rereading 90s JLI mostly for references and inspiration with regards to Bea’s amazing relationship with Booster and for hilarious images of what everyone was wearing at the time, when I came across that period of time just after Doomsday and everyone’s more than a little beat up physically and spiritually, and seeing how defeated and angsty Booster was over not being able to be a superhero without his suit just struck a cord with me. Then it struck a Kord with me, so I wrote this silly bit of nothing. 

“So the thought never even crossed your mind before?”

Things were dark to the point of being positively grim in the laboratory. Of course, Ted told himself that it was simply how someone should expect a laboratory to look when deep underground in a fortress-like compound. It helped him think, helped him keep in touch with the side of him that was Ted Kord, Inventor, and away from the young adventurer and hero that Blue Beetle had flatly become over the years. 

That’s how his life always was, though — from a childhood between opposing parenting styles to a Jewish kid in a WASPy upper-class high school to a corporate laughing stock with a secret identity self-sabotaging all the things seemingly handed to him — pulled in two directions and never finding his footing for balance.

Brows furrowed in thought, Ted glanced over his shoulder in the dark and looked at the vague outline of his friend and fellow Justice Leaguer. 

Had the conversation taken place a few weeks ago, Beatriz would have no doubt lit up her spot in the lab herself, eccentric green flames licking at every piece of equipment around her. 

She hadn’t had that sort of control of her supernatural abilities for a while, though. And, despite his promises to her, Ted hadn’t done all that much to help her out. 

In Ted’s defense, there was a long list of needs he had from his friends that needed addressing.

Less in his defense, Ted could feel the cold, calming relief of being at least a little bit responsible for some of his friends not being in the field for a little longer. Not getting hurt. Not getting dead. 

If Superman could die, who among them was safe anymore?

“The thought of what?” he asked, in spite of himself. This was not really a conversation he was wanting to have. Not with Bea. Not with anybody. “Branching outside of the League?” 

He was snappier then he meant to come across, frazzled by the thought. 

When that raw nerve was exposed, he liked to direct himself to thoughts of Captain Traitor, but the unfortunate part of having these conversations with Bea was that she had a finger on the pulse of League gossip. And it didn’t take a super-spy to remember it wasn’t that long ago since Ted was brawling with Booster on the floor of the Bug over his departure from the League.

They were good after that. Again. Maybe. 

It would have been petty for Ted to hold a grudge still, months after everything was already rectified and the League whole. After they had stood side by side against Doomsday together and were torn apart only to be back at it again.

Almost.

“Not leave the League,” Bea soothed, walking around the lab, toward the walls and feeling around. “Where’s the light switch?”

“It’s not a switch, it’s…” Ted stopped working on the monitor he was repairing and looked around his control panel. With a press of a button, the lights in his lab came on with a flourish. “Ta-da.”

Bea turned and looked at him expectantly, but her attitude seemed to shift in an instant upon making contact. “Jesus, Beetle.”

“What?” he asked her, immediately looking down to his sweater for the ketchup stain from lunch. He’d hoped he got most of it off. 

“When’s the last time you shaved?” she asked him.

“I’m thinking of growing a beard,” he answered without a moment’s thought. He reached for the wadded up napkin laying next to the Big Belly Burger trash from his lunch. When he began rubbing at the ketchup stain, Bea, who had somehow closed the distance between them without Ted even realizing it, grabbed his wrist and wrenched it away.

“You are not, you’re just not taking care of yourself,” she said firmly. “I bet you wore that shirt yesterday, too.”

“You have no proof, Fire,” Ted sniffed down his nose at her. 

Her eyes sharpened and she tightened her grip on his wrist. “Believe it or not,” she continued, “I’m not pointing any of this out to make you feel bad or to make you question your spot on the League.”

“Oh, well, since those are the only options I can think of, you’re doing a pretty bad job at whatever this is, then,” Ted snapped at her. 

“I’m worried about Booster,” she finally announced.

Now that hit Ted like a twenty-pound weight thrown directly at his slightly increasing gut. He looked at her, giving up his meager resistance on her hold, and allowed his emotions to eek through with a strangled, “What? What’s wrong?”

“And you,” Bea finished lamely. As if Ted could share in any concerns for himself in the light of something being seriously wrong with Booster.

“Then why are we worrying about hypotheticals here? Spill it,” Ted demanded. 

“Fine, jackass,” Bea hissed back, shoving his wrist and everything attached to it back into Ted’s chest. “Ever since Doomsday shredded Booster’s suit and rendered him powerless, he’s been stomping around the League with almost as much self-loathing and assholery as you have down here in the basement.”

“It’s a laboratory,” Ted whined back. And it was a laboratory — it was part of the incentives package from Max to get him to sign back up, and it was also the one place he could think and tinker and be left alone to wallow in the fact that he woke up from a coma into a whole new, whole worse world. A world without Superman, without hope, without faith that superheroes like them could fill the tremendous hole that a Superman had left behind. 

And, despite himself, Ted woke up with a lot of those same feelings as the public at large. 

And since Ted hadn’t so much as checked the fitting of his Blue Beetle costume since he woke up from a coma, it did place him much closer to that civilian perspective than anyone else in the League had been for a while. 

“And while I sure as hell can agree that we’ve been through enough in all of this to deserve some bad attitudes to a point,” Bea continued, “I think the reason the two of you are quite so obnoxious is because of the separation anxiety.”

Ted squinted at her, not following. “Separation anxiety… from the League?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

Beatriz put the heels of her palms against her eye sockets and looked like she was about to scream. “Idiotas!” She hissed between her teeth. “From each other, Beetle. From each other.”

He looked longways at her, assessing her for some signs of her own mental breakdown or distress from mind control or brainwashing, and then turned back to his monitor. “Are you really so bored up in the embassy right now that you’re trying to dig into trouble?”

“I’m going to torch you and this whole stupid lab,” Bea warned.

Before he could help himself, Ted snorted and put on his soldering goggles to get back to work. “Yeah? With what powers?”

He knew he had to be out of practice because he saw the punch coming from a mile away and still didn’t have the time or wherewithal to block or get out of the way before Bea sent him careening into the control panel next to him. 

Blinking a few times, Ted looked at the shaking figure of his friend, noted that steam was quite literally perspiring from her exposed shoulders and neck, then took a moment to reassess whether or not his jaw was attached to his skull. It was. 

“Okay,” he responded, “Ow.”

“Do you have any idea how hard the two of you make it to talk to you about anything that matters?” Bea demanded from him. “My god, I have no idea how you two have been together this long. The second the door closes and it’s just the two of you in a room, does it just immediately fall into unending fart jokes and nothing gets done?”

Realizing Bea had no intention of offering him help up, Ted pushed off from the control panel and rubbed his no doubt reddening cheek. “Bea, you’ve known Booster and me for years by now.” He paused, mostly for dramatic effect but also to glance and make sure that she wasn’t close enough for a second shot before he could duck away. “Of course that’s what happens the moment Booster and I are alone in a room.”

“I’m trying to help you!” Bea snarled, throwing up her arms. 

“You sure have a funny way of showing it!” Ted yelled back. “And, besides, help what? I’m on the bench until I complete physical therapy. Booster’s benched until he has a solution for his wrecked suit.”

“A solution you’re supposed to be working on,” Bea reminded him. The fact that her own benching was also reliant on Ted goes unspoken, but there was a prickling feeling in Ted’s neck that it was there, under all the layers being hidden by concern for Booster and Ted. “Have you even looked at his suit?”

Ted squinted at her. “Yeah. It’s shredded.”

“And your solution to that is…”

“Working on it,” Ted said so automatically it was as if Booster was in the lab having the conversation again. At least Bea hit him. Booster last time didn’t even bother to turn the lights on.

Just a where’s my super suit and gone the second he wasn’t getting the answer he wanted. Like a child.

“You know what I think, Beetle?” Bea began, slowly, calculated.

“Nope,” Ted answered, running his hands through his equipment for the exact pliers he needed for the monitor. 

“I think you’re keeping Booster on the bench as long as you can by not doing a damn thing,” Bea said lowly. “And I think you know that the second Booster figures out that it’s what you’re doing, he’ll blow the top off the whole damn embassy.”

Sick of playing the games, of obfuscating, Ted looked up at her, glowering. “So?”

“That’s not going to fix anything,” she warned him. “The only way you two can stop this and save your relationship is if you talk to each other about it. Not manipulate things behind the scenes to get what you want.”

“So my friends aren’t getting killed out there for people who don’t believe in them for just a little longer!” Ted growled. “I think Booster’ll live. And our relationship—“ 

The word caught in Ted’s throat. Every emotion was so high, so heartfelt before it that he hadn’t even felt it coming until it was there. And then it was ringing in his ears. He choked a bit, as if it was a Big Belly fry that went down the wrong way, didn’t settle well with him.

If Bea noticed, she was too busy with his other charges. “That isn’t your call, Beetle. God damn it, I felt this was what was going on but I just. I didn’t know for sure until I got down here. And look at you, falling apart, you know it’s not going to fix any of this. You know you’re not supposed to make these decisions on your own!”

Ted grabbed onto the corner of his work table and felt like he needed to catch his breath still. “Wait, wait, hold up!” he called out, using a free hand to try to stress the request. It didn’t do a whole lot of good.

“You’ve had to have noticed it if I’ve noticed that Booster is so wrapped up in getting back out there that he has no sense of personhood outside of his suit,” Bea continued to rant, her hands firing off and twisting in the air with nearly the same speed as her mouth. “And by god, if he tells Skeets to scan his suit for options one more time, I think the little robot’s going to fry him!”

Unable to take it any longer, Ted looked to Bea wildly and smacked the table to get her attention. “Now hold on! You’re firing off some pretty hefty accusations here!” he roared at her, accurately worked up for the circumstances.

She stopped and gave him a look over. “What? You think the little robot’s got enough money to sue for libel?”

“Not about Skeets! About Booster and me!” Ted squeaked, though he liked to reflect on it being a manlier squeak than most.

It was Bea’s turn to squint back at Ted. “What? You don’t think Booster has too much of himself wrapped up in being a superhero?” 

“I think you’ve got too much of Booster and I wrapped up with each other,” he growled out. He scoffed. “Relationship. We’re friends.”

Even though Ted was nowhere close to her, Bea staggered back like he had finally punched her back. “What?”

Ted was regaining his composure and able to stand on his own two legs again without leaning on the table. He crossed his arms and looked at Bea confidently, even as the fluttering in his stomach and chest felt like it was going to leave him swaying the moment he no longer had to make a point.

Many emotions seemed to run through Bea before she glanced around and then back at Ted. Quietly, almost worriedly, she asked, “Does Booster know?”

“Yes!” Ted yelled, though a pang of Wait does he? ran through him with a worrying bout of second-guessing everything he thought he knew about himself and his closest friend. 

Bea seemed genuinely shook as she stood quietly for a moment, contemplating. She then shook her head in disbelief and glanced at Ted. “Well, it doesn’t matter how close you two really are—“

“It matters!” Ted squeaked again. That time felt significantly less manly. 

“Booster needs to hear from someone who loves him that he’s got more than a suit and superhero gig to him,” Bea said more confidently. “He needs to hear it and he needs to see that someone cares so damn much about him that they’re willing to try to stop him from doing something stupid. Like what you’re doing, Beetle. Though, and let’s be clear here, the way you’re doing it is tremendously stupid itself.”

“How are you so good at making everything an accusation?” Ted sighed, rubbing at his eyes. 

There was a more tired look at Beatriz’s expectant glare when Ted glanced back at her. She took a deep breath and turned to walk out. “Talk to Booster,” she ordered him on her way out. “And while you’re at it, get some sunlight. And a razor. And a shirt.”

Ted was pretty sure no one had mothered him with contempt and pity in equal amounts since his own mother had died. 

***

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

That wasn’t entirely true. Reclusive as he might have become in the days after waking from a Doomsday-induced coma, Ted still understood the basics of the Justice League’s base and its layout. He technically understood that the upper levels were filled with space and amenities for his colleagues. 

And he also understood that it was the most likely place he could find Booster.

Beyond those fairly basic facts, though, Ted had little to no idea what he was doing. And he could sense his creeping insecurities clawing their way back up to the forefront of his mind. 

Therefore, in a far more literal sense, he had no idea what he was doing.

Which made it strangely inconvenient when he made it into the gym and found Booster on a treadmill, his golden robotic companion floating alongside with a countdown timer occupying where Skeets’ frontal display normally was. 

Booster was so in the moment, so occupied by his running, that he didn’t seem to notice Ted in the doorway at all. He was gazing straight ahead, cheeks dimpled as his highly controlled breathing rushed air in and out of his mouth. 

This must be a fairly intense workout routine, or at least one Booster had been at for a while because Ted knew it took pushing Booster quite a bit for him to get the sheen of sweat that covers his skin. Skin that was highly visible considering Booster was in training shorts and gym shoes without anything else but a headband.

If it were a normal occasion, Ted would already have a couple of dozen jokes at the ready for the headband alone. It was doing nothing to keep back the waterfalls of sweat at that point and seemed mostly to be an aesthetic choice to make up for Booster’s serious lack of recent haircuts.

He had a mane that would make Fabio jealous, that’s for sure. 

Ted considered that, all of it, as he watched awkwardly from afar, only to feel an unnatural heat build-up from within his unseasonal turtleneck. Relationship. God, he could have killed Bea for doing that to him. For making him think in such ways he never would have.

He didn’t want to think of his best friend in these ways.

A little too late, Ted realized he also shouldn’t creepily watch his best friend work out more-than-half-naked in the training room either. But that was something, at least, he could confront head-on. 

Clearing his throat and making a big production out of stepping into the gym, Ted hoped that it was more than enough to make up for his shadowy leering. Though, if it was, it still wasn’t enough to get Booster to slow down on the treadmill.

Booster did glance to Skeets’ timer and then looked over to Ted, though. So he knew Ted was in there. That had to count for something.

“Hey, Boost,” Ted tried instead. He said it so casually, so naturally, that it took a full moment for him to wonder if it was too much or not. To have a nickname for your friend’s nickname. Was that too familiar? So what if it was? 

He was about to have a panic attack and he couldn’t even explain to himself why.

“Did you get something up with the suit?” Booster asked immediately, his eyes darting toward Ted.

And, oh, did that not burn Ted up immediately. For a multitude of reasons. The rudeness, though, was taking front and center, though. 

“No, I told you I’d let you know as soon as there was any progress,” Ted countered, sounding nearly as wounded as he felt. 

The moment Skeets’ timer hit zero-zero-zero-zero, Booster pushed something on the treadmill that seemed to lower the speed. His high-intensity run began to decrease to a jog. He gripped to the side handles as adjusted with the machine. 

“What’re you doing out of the lab?” Booster asked just as snappishly as his first question. He was so focused on Ted’s face that Skeets flew off to the side of the gym without even informing either of them.

That time, Ted could not resist the way his eyes rolled for the back of his head. He crossed his arms defensively. “I’m allowed to leave the lab any time I want,” he hissed back.

“Oh, are you?” Booster countered, slowing to a walk. “Guess that explains the fast-food wrappers I keep finding down there.”

Ted’s head snapped toward Booster, his blood rushing to his face and making him feel immediately hot across his cheeks and forehead. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Why are you trying to gut me?”

“Why are you trying to avoid doing anything actually helpful around here lately?” Booster snapped back, jumping off the treadmill before it was finished up with his cooling-off period. He didn’t even glance in Skeets’ direction as the tiny robot flew in from the side with a towel at the ready. 

“Doing anything actually helpful--” Ted repeated, sputtering over the words. “Are you shitting me right now? I’ve been rewiring this entire facility top to bottom and replacing all the standard equipment with updated models. And that’s with doctor’s orders to take it easy with my fatigue.” Then, because he was on a tear and couldn’t stop himself, he looked Booster up and down. “What’ve you done with all your time?”

Booster’s mouth snapped shut and his eyes darkened as he looked at Ted. 

It didn’t take an expert in Booster Gold readings to know he was beyond pissed. 

“I’m doing my best until you get in gear and fix my shit,” Booster snarled back. “Which, by the way, if you can’t then you need to tell me so I can find someone who can. And I needed to know yesterday.”

“Someone else more qualified to patch it up in this century?” Ted mocked. “Good luck, pal! I’ve helped you with it more than anyone else, and I’m telling you it’s positively trashed! It’s not going to protect you out there.”

Angrily, Booster threw up his arms. “I don’t need protection! I just need to be able to be a hero again!”

“If you need the suit to be a hero, Booster, then you weren’t really a hero to begin with!” Ted erupted at last.

Immediately, the silence became deafening as they stared at each other in shock. 

Ted felt like he swallowed an entire lemon in a single go, his whole mouth dried up and his face recoiling back in shock from his own viciousness. He wasn’t even sure where the words came from, they were so callous and cruel. So biting. 

Booster was broodingly quiet for a moment, not looking Ted in the face as if the image of him alone was painful. Instead, he looked to the floor or the equipment. He yanked the towel off of Skeets and began roughly rubbing it over his face and neck. 

“Jesus christ,” Ted gasped at himself before dragging both of his hands down his face. “I have no idea why I just… Booster, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Sounds like you did,” Booster spat back venomously before balling up the sweat-soaked towel and throwing it right for Ted’s head. “Good talk, Beetle. I’ll stop pestering you about my suit. I’m sending it to STAR.”

“Okay, stop!” Ted growled, yanking the towel off his face and throwing it to the side. “Booster, hold on! Let me apologize!”

When Booster shoulder checked Ted on the way out of the gym, he hit with enough force to push Ted into the wall and took the breath out of him. Apparently Booster had been making a point of hitting the gym for more than just cardio in the past weeks since he lost his suit.

The smart thing to do, based on all of Ted’s long history with Booster, was to back off and let the other hero burn through his temper, work up a good mad without Ted anywhere in the vicinity.

But Ted was apparently a glutton for punishment that day. 

He grabbed Booster’s wrist and held it with a vice grip, wrenching Booster back and to turn him around to face him again. 

“Don’t touch me!” Booster growled, his mouth turning up in a snarl. 

“I said to hold on!” Ted yelled back. “I’m sorry, I’m a dumbass! I don’t know what I was trying to say there, but it wasn’t what came out, okay? Let me just…” He stopped himself and shook his head. He didn’t know what he was trying to accomplish with any of it. He’d made such a good mess from the start. 

“Just, what, Ted? Continue to prove that you think I’m some idiot blowhard just like every other person thinks?” Booster demanded. He pulled his hand out from Ted’s grip at last and rubbed his wrist. “I don’t need to hear it. I’ve heard enough of it, thanks!”

“I know you’re not like that, you big idiot, that’s why I’m scared!” Ted exploded, throwing his own arms into the air. “You’re such a hero -- you’re so dedicated to it -- that you’re going to go flinging yourself out into danger the very second I have a prototype that isn’t even tested yet! You’re going to try to save someone, try to prove yourself, and while you’re doing it, I’ll have fucked something up and it’ll fail you and you’re going to die, Booster! You hear me? You’ll get yourself killed!”

Booster stared at him, the anger not dropping even an iota. “Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence!”

Ted let out a frustrated croaking noise from deep within his throat and rubbed at his face. “Goddamn it! Why can’t I say any of this right?”

While Ted was working through his moment, though, Booster was taking a step back, his brows knitted together in thought. Then, crestfallen, he shook his head at Ted. 

“You haven’t been working on the suit on purpose,” he surmised.

Closing his eyes, Ted released a deep sigh. “I was trying to come up here to, uh, to talk to you about that. Talk to you about a lot of things relating to that. Because I was talking to Bea and she was worried about you, and me. And it was a lot of stuff that I think we have been sitting on and not dealing with since I woke up.”

Booster stared at him. “Sitting on and not dealing with… like my suit maybe?” his anger was flaring again.

Looking Booster in the eyes, Ted felt his chest clenching tightly. It was painful to see that anger directed his way -- sure if he pranked Booster or poked his buttons on purpose that was one thing. But it was anguish and hurt under that anger that was all radiating directly from Booster to Ted. And he deserved it. 

“You’ve got every right to be angry with me,” Ted admitted. “But, goddammit, Booster, hear me out here. I almost died, okay? Some monster out of nowhere came through and busted my head in without a second thought. And I wake up, weeks later, to learn that the same monster that almost finished me off killed Superman. And the first thing my best friends want me to do when I get back to the land of the living is to help them put themselves back on the battlefield? To get themselves killed?”

For a moment, Ted couldn’t tell if his words got to Booster or not. He was glaring at the ground before he snapped back up and pointed at Ted’s chest. “You almost died because I wasn’t able to do anything to help,” Booster growled. “I was there and I watched you hang onto life by a thread, and I couldn’t even get into the fight, couldn’t save the leader of our team, because all I am at the end of the day is a bunch of fancy gadgets I didn’t even make myself. And now you want me to sit on the sidelines and do nothing again?”

“I want you to stay alive, you jackass!” Ted yelled, smacking Booster’s hand down. “I don’t care if you never want to talk to me again afterward! If I kept you alive then I can be happy!”

“Superman died!” Booster burst out like it was an argument or a point or anything really.

“I don’t care who else dies! I won’t let you be one of them!” Ted cried out. 

Booster’s eyes widened slightly, taken aback. He looked Ted up and down as if expecting to see the outline of a Starro underneath his turtleneck. Then he squinted in confusion. 

Ted, for his part, felt like his heart was going to race directly out of his chest and had to put a hand on it to uselessly attempt to calm it down. He scowled at himself. Still going smooth as desert sand, the two of them. 

“Look, I don’t know if what’s wrong with us right now can be fixed by screaming matches in the League gym or not, but I feel like we’re distinctly lacking progress,” Ted noted out loud. He forced himself, with some struggle, to meet Booster’s gaze. “Can we try to talk at normal volumes?”

“You’re the one who keeps screaming and cutting like a knife,” Booster only partially joked. “But, sure, we can try the adult thing.”

“Ugh, the thing I’m worst at,” Ted sighed, pinching at the bridge of his eyes. He looked apologetically to Booster. “Booster, I know you’re a hero, and worst yet you’re a despicably good hero when it comes down to it. Which is why I knew that you weren’t kidding when I was in a hospital bed still and you were already talking about fixing up and updating your equipment. I’ve been a hero for years, and that’s easily the closest to death I have ever been, and here’s my perfectly heroic best friend ready to get back off the bench.”

“I’m a quarterback, I do terrible at sitting on the bench,” Booster huffed, a genuine smirk sneaking into his expression.

Ted shook his head testily. “And, as always, I must remind you that I played chess in high school and that metaphor is so beyond me it’s sad.”

“It’s really sad,” Booster agreed. He paused and looked off, a hand coming up and cover his mouth in thought. “I really did ask you to fix it while you were in your hospital bed, didn’t I? Wow, yeah. That was real bad of me.”

“It normally wouldn’t be a big deal, but,” Ted stopped for a moment and took stock of what he was saying. Thinking before talking. He needed to have been doing that from the start. Even with his heart abnormally racing around Booster for seemingly no reason. “Look, I don’t think it’s like what Bea was saying, but you are easily the most important person to me. I can’t fathom anything bad happening to you, and that’s what I feel like is going to happen if I screw up your suit. Which I feel like I will because that’s just superheroic to a T, isn’t it?”

“You wouldn’t screw up my suit, that’s why you’re the only person I really trust with it,” Booster replied flippantly, even flicking his wrist as he did so. He hesitated, though, and looked back at Ted seriously. “What do you mean what Bea was saying, though?”

“Oh,” Ted replied, heat rushing back in his face. “It’s really dumb. Stupid. Honestly, really nothing. But she was saying that you and I were acting, well, like kids having tantrums because we weren’t spending any time together and it was giving us, uh, separation anxiety.”

Booster looked at Ted curiously before snorting. “Like chihuahuas left in an apartment too long?”

Laughing, Ted ducked his head down. “Y-yeah. She was, uh, worried about our…” he trailed off, throat tightening at even the notion of repeating it. Does Booster know?

Tilting his head, Booster looked at Ted curiously. “Our what?”

Ted wished he could just go ahead and swallow his entire foot, get it over with. He seemed to like it in his mouth so much lately anyway. 

“Our, uh,” Ted, despite himself, caught Booster’s bright blue eyes with his own again. His entire face was threatening to combust. “Our relationship.”

“Relationship?” Booster repeated. The significance seemed lost on him for a moment. His head tilted to the other side in thought and then he looked away in thought. Slowly, though, a hint of red began to grow from Booster’s cheeks, his ears, and even down to his shoulders. He let out a strained laugh. “I mean, we’re not in-in a relationship that way, I thought.”

Blanching, Ted nearly hit the wall behind him again backing up. “What do you mean thought!?” he squeaked out.

“I don’t know! I thought we weren’t? You’re here telling me my death will be worse than Superman’s!” Booster yelled back in response, his own body going stiff as a board as he backed up, too.

“I’m allowed to feel that way without it being that way!” Ted countered. He then reached to his head and yanked on his turtleneck. “Stupid, fucking, heated, useless--”

“What way?” Booster pressed, quiet and thoughtful.

“Oh, god, can we go back to fighting?” Ted begged. 

“We may, depending on how this goes!” Booster said. His eyes flickered with something meaningful and unknowable at Ted. “Ted, have we been in a relationship this whole time?”

“If you have to ask, the answer’s probably no,” Ted said, chin down as he glared angrily at his turtleneck. Like it was the cause of everything terrible that had happened that day so far. 

“Probably?” 

Groaning, Ted scrubbed at his face instead of his turtleneck. He was about to have survived Doomsday only to give in to the elements and melt into a puddle right there in the League’s own property. “I never thought we were. But, when I look at all the things I count as having in a relationship? Like all the time, and the close vicinity, and the -- you know, all the stuff -- when I look at it scientifically, it would appear to most people that we, uh. I can just see where it came from.”

Booster looked unmoved. “What all stuff?”

“Don’t make me--” Ted sighed and rotated one of his hands in a weak gesture. “Booster, the feelings stuff. I care about you, like a lot. To an insane and scary degree. To the point that I do crazy, Mad Scientist Kord things that make no sense to anybody but me. Like sabotaging your chances of going back out there in the field because I’m so goddamn terrified that I’ll lose you.”

Squinting at him, Booster folded his arms across his broad chest. “You’re, what, hurtful because you love me?”

“I mean, statistically looking at my history, it’s just about the only way I know how to love people,” Ted attempted to joke. Badly. “Or I’m just really scared of this side of me and didn’t acknowledge it until about three minutes ago. That, too.”

“This is, by far, the weirdest conversation we’ve had,” Booster noted, almost transfixed. 

“I mean, I’m sure we have had to have weirder at some point,” Ted muttered only to go stiff as Booster came in closer. “W-what are you doing?”

Ted wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was not the huge, sweaty embrace of his best friend who he had spent a few weeks sabotaging. Yet, as he was pulled tightly into Booster, he couldn’t help himself from pulling back, from wrapping his arms around Booster and breathing him in. 

Somehow he had forgotten how good it felt to just touch someone else, to hug someone and mean it in a way that was so intimate and close. He felt lighter against Booster. 

“I love you, too, Ted, you big idiot,” Booster huffed against the top of Ted’s head, his breath tickling the hairs over Ted’s ear. “I’m sorry I’m bad at saying it, too. But I absolutely can’t lose you again, either. And-and I need my suit. I can’t protect you without it.”

Blinking against Booster’s chest, Ted can feel that Booster’s heart is as panicked and erratic as his own. 

“Maybe we both should get therapy first,” Ted mused.

“Maybe,” Booster agreed, finally letting Ted go so that they could look at each other. “We should probably, uh, process this thing first, though. Like. We just found out we’ve been kind of married for the past five years.”

Ted went rigid. “You think it’s only been five?” 

Booster burst into laughter, which Ted couldn’t keep himself from joining in on. They leaned against each other, slapping arms around each other’s necks for balance as their foreheads rested together. They were ridiculous and sophomoric, and almost everything the others had said about them -- especially that part. 

But a weight Ted didn’t know he had been carrying was finally gone, and for the first time in a long time, he realized that perhaps even more than wanting Booster safe, he’d wanted him happy for a long time. At the very least since Ted had woken up from his brush with death. 

And, if they were basically in a relationship anyway, he supposed that it was only right that they work on making each other happy anyway. 

[tsarisfanfiction]

Uboku Koroshi-ya

Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Tragedy Characters: Mikoto, Itachi

It's the night Itachi's supposed to kill the clan, but he's ill in bed and unable to move. Will the coup d'état go on as planned or will someone else step up to stop it?

Itachi lay on his bed, deep in the thrall of a fever. Mikoto sat by him, watching as he internally panicked about something. She'd sent Sasuke to go get some cloths and water and the young boy had leaped to obey in an instant, worried for his ill brother.

"…mission…" Itachi mumbled, almost incoherently. Mikoto frowned. She had her suspicions as to what this mission that he seemed so insistent on completing was, and he was in no state to do so. Fugaku was twitchy. The coup d'état was scheduled for tomorrow evening and Itachi was to play a major part in keeping the ANBU out of the way. Except he wouldn't, if this mission went ahead. Mikoto didn't want to revolt; she was happy with her lot in the village – she'd had a good career and an even better retirement, funded by Konoha – and felt that she owed it to both her best friend and her old teammate to keep it safe in their absence. She'd failed their son, she couldn't fail their village as well.

She reached a decision. Resting a hand on her feverish son's forehead, she channelled her medical ninjutsu into him so that she could talk to him. Sasuke would be a little while yet, and Fugaku was at another meeting about the upcoming coup. Itachi's clouded eyes looked up at her as they cleared.

"What's your mission?" she asked gently.

"Secret," he replied weakly. She sighed and fixed him with a stare, enhanced by her kekkei genkai as she took them into a genjutsu-induced world where they could talk privately. Itachi tried to break it but, as she suspected, he was too weak to do so.

"You have to kill the clan." It wasn't a question. "The Hokage knows about the coup and you've been tasked with stopping it." Usually so good at masking emotion, Itachi's eyes betrayed his shock.

"How-"

"You've been distancing yourself from us recently, trying to make it easier for yourself," Mikoto observed. "Whenever you do look at us there's sorrow in your eyes. You don't want this. You don't want another war, and the only way to stop it is to eliminate us." Her son surrendered.

"You're right," he said. "But in this state… I'm out of time. There's no-one else who can do it but right now I can't…" Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. Mikoto ended the genjutsu as she felt Sasuke re-enter the room.

"Nii-san?" her youngest asked.

"Sas… uke…" Itachi replied weakly.

"Look after your brother, Sasuke," Mikoto instructed. "I'll be back shortly." Sasuke nodded, solemn with the responsibility, and she left the room, all too conscious of Itachi's stare on her back. The coup had to be stopped. If Itachi wasn't fit, then…

"Hokage-sama," she said, entering the office unannounced. Danzo, Homura and Koharu were with the Sandaime.

"Yes, Mikoto-san?" Hiruzen asked. "What is it?" The others bristled but said nothing.

"Itachi's ill," she reported. "He's not fit to complete tonight's mission." Danzo froze at her words.

"What do you know of your son's mission?" he asked suspiciously, confirming her theory that the four of them were all in the know.

"I'm his mother. If I couldn't tell when something was bothering him, what sort of mother would I be? It was easy to work out," she pointed out.

"Why are you reporting this?" Koharu asked curiously. "Surely this works in the favour of the Uchiha?"

"It does," Mikoto acknowledged. "But, like Itachi, I disagree with the coup. Kushina and Minato were close friends of mine and I want to protect the village they gave their lives for."

"What are you saying?" Homura asked. "It sounds like-"

"I will complete Itachi's mission," Mikoto interrupted. The older ninja all looked shocked. "But I have conditions."

"I'll hear them," Hiruzen said before the others could speak up.

"I will spare every child in the clan that doesn't know of the plans for the coup, and Itachi. They are innocent and Konoha cannot afford to lose the Sharingan completely."

"Impossible," Danzo spat. "They will grow up to form another coup later and at that time we will not have ninja powerful enough to subdue them."

"Mikoto is right," Hiruzen overrode him. "We cannot punish the children for the actions of their parents if they have no knowledge. However, Mikoto, you are aware that if you do this you'll become a missing-nin, or have to commit suicide." The Uchiha matriarch nodded.

"Hide my involvement. I'll make it seem as if we were attacked by an outside influence, and that I pursued them to defend the children. Besides, only a very few know of my capabilities. The village won't believe that I could do it, anyway," she reasoned. "You will look after the children? Itachi will be able to look after Sasuke, but he won't be able to cope with all the other children, particularly the really young ones."

"I'll ask for volunteers to foster them among young parents," Hiruzen nodded. "In the worst case, they'll be placed in the care of the orphanage."

"You cannot be agreeing!" Danzo said. "They'll revolt and-"

"Not if they are treated with kindness and brought up to love the village, they will not," Hiruzen said firmly. "Mikoto is correct in that Konoha cannot afford to lose the Sharingan clan. Itachi is loyal to us and he will pass that loyalty down to the other children, providing that they do not suspect that the village is behind the deaths of their families." He turned to Mikoto. "Uchiha Mikoto, I hereby declare you out of retirement and give you an S-ranked mission. Kill all members of the Uchiha Clan that are involved in, or aware of, the planned coup d'état aside from Uchiha Itachi in a way that absolves the village of any guilt."

"Hai!" She bowed her head and turned to leave, before glancing back at the elders. "I know a lot about the village, things that other villages would love to get their hands on. Protect all the children and do not let them find out the truth. I will know." She left, the thinly veiled threat hanging in the air.

"I don't like this," Danzo said. "How can we trust her?"

"We can't," Hiruzen admitted. "But with Itachi out of action she's our only hope."

Mikoto sped back to her house, careful to avoid notice. It was good that while officially retired, she had secretly kept her skills sharp. She'd need every ounce of it in order to take down her clan. All she had to do was wait the hour or so until nightfall before commencing the mission.

"Where did you go, Kaa-san?" Sasuke asked curiously as she entered, having grabbed herbs from her garden on the way up. She showed him the plants.

"To find something to help bring your brother's fever down," she said, smiling at him and ignoring Itachi's subtle look of suspicion as she applied the herbs. "Can you keep an eye on him while I prepare tea?"

"No problem!" Sasuke said immediately.

"Kaa-san…" Itachi said.

"You just focus on getting better," Mikoto told him, walking out the room. She had an hour in which to get her boys asleep and prepare for the worst mission of her life. First of all was feeding her sons. That was easy – she did it every day, after all. It took her a matter of minutes to prepare a light meal for her sons, which she carried up to Itachi's room. Sasuke fell to it with gusto while Itachi picked at his, not up to eating much.

"It's getting dark out," Mikoto commented idly. "Perhaps you two should settle down for the night?"

"I don't wanna leave Nii-san!" Sasuke pouted. She pretended to think for a moment.

"Hmm. If you're good, maybe Itachi will let you sleep in here tonight to keep him company?" she suggested. Sasuke immediately turned to his older brother, who nodded. "Go on, then. Go get ready for bed," she encouraged. He ran from the room to get changed.

"Kaa-san," Itachi said once Sasuke was out of earshot. "What are you planning? You never let us sleep in the same room if one of us is ill."

"Someone's got to stop the coup," she said quietly. "And you're in no state to do so." His eyes widened in realisation. "Look after Sasuke for me."

"No! You can't-"

"When I'm done, I'm going to leave the village. Hopefully I'll make it seem like it was outside influence, and that I left to chase them down and protect you two. I'll be declared either MIA or KIA, at Sandaime's digression," she informed him gently.

"They won't let me live," Itachi said. "I'm a threat." Mikoto smirked, a sight Itachi was not used to.

"So am I. I've made it clear that if anything happens to anyone I leave alive, information about Konoha will find its way to enemy ears. They can't kill you and not destroy the village. You and Sasuke will be safe." The pattering of little feet could be heard as Sasuke reappeared. Mikoto smiled at him, before performing her usual motherly checks. "Teeth? Face? Hands?" All were spotless and she allowed him to curl up next to Itachi.

"Goodnight, boys," she said gently, resting a hand on Sasuke's forehead. An almost invisible glow enveloped her hand and her youngest fell asleep immediately. Itachi immediately turned wary. "And you, Itachi," she said.

"You don't need to-" he started, too weak to fight her off as her Chakra-infused hand rested on his forehead, too. Within moments he too was asleep.

"Yes, I do," she murmured, channelling more Chakra as she cured his illness. Unnecessary perhaps, but it was the last time she'd be able to do it. "I love you both." She kissed both their foreheads gently before tearing herself away from them and leaving the room, closing the door behind her. They wouldn't wake for twelve hours – plenty of time for her to finish her mission, report and leave the village for good. Digging out her headband from where it lay in her drawers and once more securing it around her head, she felt a sense of nostalgia, enhanced when she opened the secret compartment and withdrew her mask – the mask of Uboku Koroshi-ya, her old alias of an un-allianced kunoichi that she'd used for S-rank assassinations that only the Hokage and his closest confidants knew about – securing it over her face. Gathering her weapons from similar compartments around the house and changing into the feared outfit of her alias, she finally felt ready for her task. Uboku Koroshi-ya was a well-known, feared kunoichi capable of sneaking into the most highly secure areas without leaving a trace and her kills were always silent. This would be no different, despite her attachment to her latest targets. She heard Fugaku enter the house and slipped out of the window. He had to be last for the deception to work. He was calling for her, but she didn't answer. She heard him find their sons, and his confusion when he couldn't rouse either of them.

"MIKOTO!"

That was her cue to leave. Not even her husband knew of her other persona, but there was no doubt from his tone that he knew she was the one that had put their sons to sleep. Other Uchiha had been roused by the cry and were heading towards the main house. Let them. She had to start from the outskirts, leaving a clear path of entry in terms of order of kills. She chose the obvious spot to do so – furthest from the majority of the village and the slight weak point in the walls. Those of her clan that stood guard there were first to die as her senbon pierced their vital organs, all at once. Despite her personal attachments, she felt a thrill at being back out in the field again, doing what she did best, as she removed her weapons. It was a well-known tactic of Uboku Koroshi-ya to retrieve her weapons as soon as possible after a kill. Sharingan activated behind the mask, she identified where people were and weren't in their houses. Any adult she came across died, holes where the senbon had been extracted post-mortem the only clues to her identity. Flitting into a house – she refused to allow herself to recall who lived where – she killed the woman in the kitchen and the man in the bedroom before approaching their young child, who looked up at her with fearful eyes. Quick as a snake, her hand rested on his forehead and sent him to sleep the same way she had her sons. Yes, she would spare innocents, but they still had to be subdued to prevent an alarm being raised. Luckily, Uboku Koroshi-ya was known for not killing children.

She killed with brutal efficiency – from the shadows where no Sharingan were looking – and soon all that were left were those that had flocked to her house at Fugaku's cry. She chose to forgo subtlety as there were no innocents among them. Her senbon flew true and they all fell, leaving her to face off against her shocked husband.

"Uboku Koroshi-ya," he said in fear as he activated his Sharingan. "Where's my wife?" He was the ringleader. He deserved to know who had slaughtered the entire clan without anyone realising just to protect the rest of the village.

"Allying herself with those that would protect Konoha," she spoke. Recognition dawned.

"Mikoto? You're Uboku Koroshi-ya?" he exclaimed. She nodded slightly.

"And you're her next victim." She knew Fugaku – had fought alongside him on many occasions – and so was confident that she could beat him, even if he hurt her. Then again, she was banking on it. Uboku Koroshi-ya's retreat had to seem genuine – Itachi was the age of some of her other victims so his survival would raise suspicions.

"Why?" he asked as she attacked furiously, holding his own against her own blade. For now.

"To save the children, and my friends' memories," she replied. He gave a wry smile as he managed to nick her arm and she jumped back.

"As kind-hearted as ever. This was Itachi's mission, wasn't it? I always knew he was too gentle to condone the coup."

"Itachi loves this village, as do I. I won't let him throw his career away because of his foolish parents," Mikoto declared. "This is the only way for me to atone for not trying to stop you earlier." She let him hit her a few more times and he grew bolder. His confidence had been increased when he realised who she was – he thought he knew her fighting style. But Uchiha Mikoto and Uboku Koroshi-ya fought differently. It was the basic mechanism to avoid her identity being compromised. Satisfied that enough of her blood had been spilled, she turned serious and unleased her full Sharingan. Within moments of her activating Tsukuyomi (real time) Fugaku was on the ground, disarmed and unable to move.

"Thank you," she said. "Your defence of our sons will convince people that I fought alongside you against our enemy. Sasuke will be convinced of his parents' innocence in all things, and be able to lead a proper life." She lifted her mask just enough for Fugaku, lying beneath her, to see her face, complete with advanced Sharingan, as she killed him. Cold he might have seemed, but he loved their sons and had proved it in his last hour and for that he deserved a better death than at the hands of his own wife. He'd been the man she married, not the mask that led the clan and it relieved her that he'd still been there. But she couldn't linger. Casting one last glance up at the window where her sons slept peacefully, she let a single tear roll down her cheek for her lost life before fleeing the compound, making it appear as if she was being chased out by someone – her other self, the one everyone knew. She had everything she needed – the weapons she'd collected from all her victims aside from those she hadn't had time to, due to 'pursuit' – and it was time to carve out a life as a criminal. Perhaps it was time for Uboku Koroshi-ya to become a reality and for Uchiha Mikoto to become the lesser personality. After all, she was supposed to be MIA so she could no longer be herself.

The massacre would be discovered in the morning. She had to put enough distance between herself and the village by then. A quick slash of the symbol on her headband to mark her new status, she replaced her mask – her new face – and headed away from the village. She didn't look back.

[redvoid-40]

Some of you may have noticed I’ve been posting little fanfic snippets here. Lately I’ve been re-watching Naruto because nostalgia. And despite having to finish my HxH fic or my novel I couldn’t help but start a new work. I dunno, it was just super nostalgic to see all the characters that I used to love (not you Sasuke) and I was left with a desire to write I hadn’t felt in a long time now.

I’ll be honest, I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this, but I do know it’ll be friendship and adventure-focused, with a side of GaaraxOC in later chapters (please bear in mind that by later chapters I mean LATER chapters; I won’t really touch the stuff while the character are kids). Also, I’m all for healthy friendships so there’ll be a lot of that too, specially with the girls in the show (I really feel Kishimoto could have invested more on his female characters).

Still, I think maybe someone out there might get some enjoyment out of this, so I’ll start posting my fic here in an ordered fashion. Hope you guys enjoy it! :D

Fandom: Naruto

Fanfic title: ???

Chapter 1: The New Girl

Genre: Friendship, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 2205

Warnings: OC is a crybaby none 

---

“Class, from today onward we’ll welcome a new student at the Academy.”

There was a wave of whispers among the children as they wondered about the new kid. Excited, confused and just a little bit anxious, the young Genin-to-be asked one another if anyone knew anything about it, heard any rumours before this sudden announcement. 

Iruka gave his students a few moments to collect themselves before clearing his throat to get their attention. It took a few moments but at last, silence came over the class.

“Please come in and introduce yourself.” Iruka called out, reaching out his hand to the side, towards the open classroom door.

The sound of soft steps came first, breaching the door’s threshold languidly. Then came the image of a little girl with light brown, wavy short hair, that framed her face with messy curls. She wore a black long-sleeved shirt and pants.

At last came the sound of her voice, and just like her eyes, it felt dead.

“My name is Osasu Shin.” The little girl said, bowing at the waist. “Please take care of me.”

The murmurs came again, this time less excited and more anxious. Iruka noticed the tension and smiled brightly at his students as he laid a comforting hand on the girl’s head.

“Why don’t you guys introduce yourselves? I’m sure Shin-kun is just as curious about you as you are about her."

The whispers died at once as the children stared at each other, wondering who'd go first - hoping someone would.

And so someone did. 

A blonde boy stood up and slammed an open palm over his desk, as a huge grin stretched on his whiskered face. The new girl flinched at the sudden noise, but Iruka and the rest of the class just sighed, seemingly used to it. 

"My name is Uzumaki Naruto! And I'm going to become Hokage, believe it!"

There was an uncomfortable silence afterwards as Shin stared at the loud boy. She didn't know what to say.

"Thanks Naruto. Next time try not to shout it though. Also don't just hit your desk like that!" Iruka said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Anyone else would like to introduce themselves?"

Again silence. 

And then-

"I'm Akimichi Chouji! Welcome! Shikamaru, say hi as well."

"This is such a bother… Hey, I'm Nara Shikamaru."

"Nice to meet you! I'm Yamanaka Ino!"

"And I'm Haruno Sakura!"

One by one, the children spoke their names and at every excited syllable that reached her ears, Shin's eyes became a bit less dull.

Iruka smiled.

---

When lunchtime came the children split in smaller groups and ran out of the classroom in a matter of seconds, all eager to wolf down their food and use the rest of their free time to play.

Shin remained in her place, staring unseeingly at her desk. As soon as the door closed behind the last of her classmates, she felt the all-too-familiar sting in her eyes that announced the coming of another bout of crying.

It had been easier to hold back with everyone around her but now that she had been left alone the task was proving to be much harder.

The little girl swallowed as her vision blurred. She rubbed at her eyes insistently, but once the tears came there was no stopping them. They streaked down the back of her hands and down her forearms. Some escaped and fell directly on her desk, leaving little dark spots all over the wood.

"Why are you crying?"

The voice startled her, as did the pair of bright blue eyes that suddenly appeared so close to her face.

Vision still blurred, Shin could only gap at the boy "I-I…"

"I know what will cheer you up!" The boy, Naruto, announced with a bright smile. "Let's go!"

Not waiting for a response, he grabbed her hand and dragged her away from her own misery.

---

"Oji-san! Two Ichiraku specials!"

"Right away!"

Shin was no longer crying, but her eyes were still a bit red and puffed. However, the owner of this little restaurant and his daughter were kind enough not to mention it as they moved around behind the bar, preparing Naruto’s order.

“This place has the best lamen in the world, believe it!” Naruto exclaimed excitedly, pulling her to sit with him at the bar. Much quieter he added: “Iruka-sensei always brings me here when I’m feeling sad.”

Shin raised her eyes to the blonde by her side and felt a lump form in the back of her throat; those baby blue eyes weren’t the bright shade she saw during the class. They had a shadow over them that spoke of a special sort of sadness that was not unlike her own - the kind which was so personal and so heartfelt it almost became part of one’s self. 

The burn in her eyes was threatening to come back.

“H-Hey! Don’t cry! I brought you here to make you feel better!"

Shin swallowed her lump and nodded her head, pressing the heels of her hands firmly against her eyes.

I can stop crying. I will stop crying.

A few moments later - once Shin had taken a hold of herself - the owner came back with two large bowls of steaming, delicious-smelling lamen.

He smiled at the children as he put the bowls in front of them and Naruto didn't waste a second before digging in with a loud 'Itadakimasu'.

Shin felt her mouth water at the smell and looked up at the man standing across the bar.

He said his name was Teuchi-san. He has such kind eyes;

"Go on." He urged with a warm smile.

Shin nodded again and reached for a pair of chopsticks.

"Itadakimasu."

---

Time, Shin found, didn't pass nearly as slowly as she thought it would today. Between Naruto's excited ramblings and Teuchi's fatherly inputs, late afternoon creeped upon her with ease, involving the streets with warm shades of orange and red.

And with it came a very angry-looking Iruka.

"Naruto! I can't believe you! Not only it's the third time you skip class this month but you also dragged Shin-kun along! On her very first day!"

Shin had the decency to blush and look down in shame. Meanwhile Naruto grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head.

"Hehe… you found us, Iruka-sensei."

There was a huge vein pulsing on the teacher's forehead. Shin feared it might actually burst.

"I'm sorry, Iruka-sensei. It's my fault really. I was-" the words caught in her throat. She didn't want anyone else to know she had been crying. "- I was down. Naruto was just cheering me up."

Iruka's eyes softened as he took in both children, as if seeing them for the first time today.

Naruto was sitting on the stool closest to him, grinning that foolish and innocent grin of his. Shin was sitting on the next stool, staring up at him with brown eyes that were nothing like the haunted gaze he had witnessed early that morning, when the Hokage had brought her to him.

These kids… They are stronger than most Shinobi could ever hope to be.

"Hmph! I'll let this one slide, but don't you try to pull this stunt again, you hear me Naruto? And don't you let this little brat get in the way of your studies, Shin-kun."

Shin nodded, but it was hard to take Iruka’s scolding to heart when he was ruffling Naruto's hair so affectionately.

"Anyway, it's going to get dark soon. Let me walk you two home." Iruka spoke before turning to the owner. "Teuchi-san how much do I owe you for these two?"

"You know that new customers get to eat on the house, Iruka." Teuchi said with a smile. "And since Naruto here is helping me expand my business, I'll treat him this time as well." 

“Ah! Thank you Oji-san!” Naruto said, jumping from his bench. “I’ll be back soon! Believe it!”

Shin bowed her head. “Thank you, Teuchi-san.”

“I hope to see you again soon, Shin-chan! Meanwhile, you be good, okay?”

The little girl was about to jump down from her bench as well, but froze at those words. With wide eyes she looked up at Teuchi, smiling down at her so kindly, so warmly, so like…

“Papa and Mama are leaving now. You be good while we’re out, okay?”

Shin’s eyes burned again, but this time the back of her hands were enough to keep the tears from streaking down her face. She sniffed and, for the first time in weeks, allowed her lips to curl up in the resemblance of a smile.

“I will!”

---

“You should smile more, Shin-chan!” Naruto spoke suddenly as they walked through the streets of Konoha.

“Hm?”

“You have a really cute smile, believe it.” The blonde explained, grinning. 

Iruka sputtered and Shin blinked at the boy, as if his words didn’t make any sense.  

“Naruto! You shouldn’t behave so familiar with a girl you just met!”

The boy’s eyes widened, as a blush crept up his neck. “I-I didn’t mean it like that! Not that you’re not cute, Shin-chan! Honestly you’re almost as cute as Sakura-chan! Ah! I’m not trying to say anything by it though! I think you’re real nice, but I- what I’m trying to say is… Ahhh! You’re my friend! And I like you better when you’re smiling. Believe it!”

An awkward silence befell the trio as the last of daylight disappeared and the street lamps lit up around them. Iruka sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hoped Shin wouldn’t take it to heart Naruto’s blabbermouth.

Shin lowered her face and turned slightly away from Naruto and Iruka as her shoulders slowly started to shake softly.

“S-Shin-chan! Are you crying? I’m sorry, I didn-”

Shin cut Naruto off, shaking one of her hands in front of herself in a dismissive gesture. It was then that Naruto and Iruka realized she wasn’t crying. 

She was laughing.

When Shin faced both again, she was smiling. But it wasn’t the little thing she had showed them back at Ichiraku; it was a full-blown grin.

“I like you too, Naruto-chan.”

And just like that, Naruto steamed into a glitch.

“Ah! I-I’m sorry!” Shin said, reaching out to support the boy’s shoulders to keep him from falling face-first to the ground. “Naruto-chan? Naruto-chan! Iruka-sensei, what did I do? Naruto-chan!”

Iruka didn’t quite believe in what he was seeing.

They are both completely clueless.

---

“So here we are!” Iruka announced with a grand gesture when they arrived at their destination.

Naruto stared at the door to his apartment, confusion clear on his face. “Ehhh? Iruka-sensei, this is my home! I thought we were going to take Shin-chan to her place first.”

Iruka smiled and pointed to the door just a few meters to the right.

Naruto didn’t quite understand the meaning.

“So, are we going to her place or not? I’m starting to get hungry again, believe it.”

Iruka sighed and shook his head.

“Naruto... Shin-kun will live next door to you as of today. Make sure to help her out whenever she needs, alright?”

“Eh?! Is that true, Shin-chan?”

Shin nodded. “Although I’m new here, if there’s anything I can help you with please let me know.”

“But isn’t this apartment a bit too small? What about your parents?”

“...”

Naruto realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. The warm atmosphere from before was quickly smothered by a silence so sad it made Naruto’s ears ring with it. Shin was too kind to say anything, but the shadows that fell over her eyes and the way her lower lip trembled with the strain of holding back tears was enough condemnation to him.

Of course… A new girl who just moved in to Konoha and transferred to the Academy with no warning or explanation. Those sad eyes… She’s like me. She doesn’t have any family.

“Ah, Shin-chan....” Naruto began, staring down at his feet in shame. “I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot, believe it.”

“Shin-kun-” Iruka tried, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “-I’m sorry. I’m sure Naruto didn’t mean it.”

Shin shook her head as she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, trying so hard to barricade her tears.

“I’m sorry, Naruto-chan, Iruka-sensei. I know a Shinobi shouldn’t cry. I’m so pathetic…”

Despite her words, there was no hiding the sobs that caught in Shin’s throat or the shaking of her shoulders as sadness suddenly overtook her. She had been so good during the day - even felt something so close to happiness bumbling inside her again - she had almost believed she was getting better. But a few words that reminded her of her parents were enough to reduce her to a sobbing mess again. She was truly path-

“!”

Shin startled at the sudden feeling of warmth around her and raised her face from its hiding place behind her hands. She felt Naruto’s hair tickle her cheek as his hands pressed around her shoulders.

“I know it hurts. Being alone is really painful, isn’t it?” The boy whispered in her ear with a sad voice that Shin felt didn’t belong to him. “It’s okay to cry, but we’re here for you now. Believe it.”

“My poor baby. That thunderstorm was really scary wasn’t it? It’s okay now. Mama is here.”

“Hey, don’t forget about Papa! I’m here too!”

Shin swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded as her hands grabbed on the back of Naruto’s shirt. 

“Thank you, Naruto-chan.”

Iruka watched the scene with a heavy heart. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he walked to them and laid a comforting hand over each of their heads.

It was a cruel world indeed, this one that allowed children to fend for themselves.

[kristenacres]

No really.

Taking the bullet out does nothing to help the person, and if your characters are in the field instead of a hospital, may actually cause more harm than good.

Imagine for a moment that you (for reasons unknown to all) decided to turn your sink on wide open, pick up a handgun, and shoot the pipes under your sink.

Maybe it hit the drain pipe, which would be bad, since all the water coming through the faucet is now dribbling out all over the floor. But even worse would be if it hit the water intake pipe, right? In that case, water under high pressure would be spraying everywhere!

Two bad options if you for some reason shoot your sink:

The vascular system of the human body is essentially one big set of pipes. The drain pipe? Those would be veins—under low pressure, but still very bad to leak from. The water intake pipe? Those would be the arteries—under high pressure and VERY dangerous to puncture.

But back to the sink example. Say you shot the pipes and hit the drain pipe (vein). Now there’s water pouring out onto the floor. Your roommate says ���Quick! Wrap your hand around the pipe to hold the water in!” (“Put pressure on the wound!”) And you do! Water is still slipping out from under your hand, but it’s leaking a lot less than before! Right now, you COULD find some duct tape (bandages) and secure the pipe further so you don’t have to keep holding it.

Instead, however, you say to your roommate: “Hold on! I’ve got to find the bullet!” You let go of the pipe (stop putting pressure on the wound) to dig around in the cabinet (body) for the bullet. Seconds, maybe even minutes pass, and that pipe is freely gushing out water the whole time. 

Finally, you find it! You pry the bullet out of the wood, hold it up to your roommate, and drop it in a little metal dish with a ‘clink’.

“Job well done,” you tell yourself. “We’re out of the woods now.”

Except that, you know, the pipe is still damaged and gushing water out onto the floor, and the bullet wasn’t actually doing anything harmful inside the cabinet. Also, while you were rummaging around for little Houdini, you weren’t putting pressure on the pipe, so that sink (patient) lost a whole lot of water (blood) that it didn’t need to. Can you imagine how much more it would have been if you’d hit the water intake pipe (artery) instead?

I know what you’re thinking. “But in movies—!!” And I know. But here’s the thing: Hollywood? It’s a bouquet of lies. I’m sorry. I really am.

In fact, even that distinctly bullet-shaped thing you usually see pulled out of people in movies may not always be true. Many times the bullet mushrooms out or becomes malformed. Depending on what that bullet ran into (like bone) it might have even broken into a dozen pieces. Try digging those out of your protagonist!

Now sometimes, but not always, doctors WILL remove the bullet (or fragments of bullet). For example, if they’ve already got the patient in surgery, and AFTER they’ve already repaired any veins, arteries, and organs to the best of their ability. Or if the patient doesn’t need surgery (if it didn’t hit anything major and is just lodged in the muscle or fat) but doctors notice that the bullet or fragment is likely to cause damage if left inside the patient. 

More often than not, however, the bullet isn’t doing anything actively damaging while inside the patient, or the removal of the bullet would be more dangerous than leaving it where it is. This is why most bullets don’t get removed at all. 

This is true if your characters are at a hospital, but ESPECIALLY if this is a field job. If trained physicians with all the tools at their disposal, blood transfusions, and a sterile environment most likely won’t take the bullet out, then Dave McSide-Character should DEFINITELY not be sticking his filthy, 5-straight-chapters-of-parkour fingers or his I-just-stabbed-a-guy-but-I-wiped-the-blood-off-on-my-pants knife inside the protagonist to fish around for some bullet that isn’t even causing harm. The recommended way to deal with a gunshot wound in the field? Pack it with gauze (or yes, even a filthy we’ve-been-on-the-run-for-two-weeks-in-the-same-clothes t-shirt if that’s all you have. Wound infection is a different post) and keep constant pressure on it.

Remember: stopping the leak in the sink is the most important thing. Not rummaging around in the cabinet for the bullet. Taking it out does literally nothing.

Two perfectly realistic reasons why you might have a character take the bullet out:

Now, sometimes, depending on the characters or the world you’re writing in, this might be different. In some instances, you might want to write the lead-scavenger-hunt scene in!

The first reason is if they just don’t know

And that’s really important when writing realistically. Not everyone is a professional in emergency wound care. Most people get all their knowledge of emergency medicine from Grey’s Anatomy and House M.D.

If your character has any medical training? Probably don’t do it

If your character has any military or police training? Some know, some don’t, so writing it either way is believable. It’s a toss-up, but they DO have more experience with gunshot wounds (either personally, witnessed, or in training videos and word of mouth)

If your character is a 17-year-old art student who saw blood for the very first time two chapters ago? Well now that character might just try digging for the bullet

And hey, maybe they’re like “I’m gonna get the bullet out!” but another character (the one who was shot, another character in the room, maybe even a 911 operator) steps in and says “No, no, no! Just put pressure on it!”

But regardless, injured characters in movies are always suddenly on the mend after the bullet is taken out. The vitals start to rise, they aren’t gasping for breath, their hand closes firmly around the love-interest’s hand, etc. And this doesn’t happen. Regardless of what your character does, the rules of biology are still in play.

In the end, though, that bullet’s just minding its own business in there. The #1 priority is fixing the damage it caused on the way in.

The second reason is if the bullet is special

This is more for the SciFi/Fantasy writers.

If your character is a werewolf and was just shot by a silver bullet which is stopping their healing process and is slowly killing them? Yeah, take it out

If the bullet is actually some sort of tiny robot designed to burrow into their organs one by one? Yeah, take it out.

If the bullet had a spell or curse placed on it? Yeah, take it out.

If they need to get transported up to the med bay, but the bullet would cause some kind of issue with the transporters? Yeah, take it out.

But in all of these examples, the bullet has to be inherently dangerous. For normal humans with normal bullets, its just a hunk of lead. 

Hope this helped some of you action writers out there!

Good luck and good writing!

Disclaimer: In the event that you or someone you know has been shot, the best thing to do for them is call for an ambulance and follow the instructions provided by the operator. This post is intended to give accurate writing advice to authors and script writers, but I am not a medical professional. While I do believe that the research that I’ve done on this topic is factually accurate, it should not be taken as actual medical advice.

[bemused-writer]

The Cain Saga Vol. 1 - Forgotten Juliet

I’ve been wanting to revisit some series I’d read in the past and I’m starting with The Cain Saga! This review isn’t spoiler free at all, so keep that in mind when reading. For anyone new to the series, I’m just going to put a content warning for the series; the themes are rated “Explicit” although this review itself is not.

This volume starts out with a one shot mystery following a character named Ariel. He works at a flower shop and promised Suzette, an aristocratic woman, he'd bring her some primroses. Unfortunately, it's not to be: she passes soon after. Regardless, Ariel's not our protagonist. Cain Hargreaves is and we meet him this chapter through Ariel's eyes. Honestly, at first it's a little puzzling why we're seeing all of this from Ariel's perspective instead of Cain's but I believe this is so we get an idea of how the outside world views him before we see his own opinion on himself. 

He's mysterious and rather edgy and he seems to glorify in that because it becomes swiftly apparent that society’s opinion of Earl Hargreaves isn't very high--he's gone and missed Suzette's funeral, which appears to be a typical thing for him. She's also his cousin, so there's a family connection. In other words, his own family isn't terribly fond of him and expects this kind of behavior.

While this is enough to make it seem like he’s a bit questionable we also quickly learn grave digging isn't all that unusual for him either, which should give you some idea of how things are going to go in this series. 

He then proceeds to mock his aunt later, saying she was always horrible to Suzette. We're not given nearly enough time with Suzette or her family to verify these claims but considering Suzette has come back from the dead to kill her I guess it's safe to assume things weren't great between them.

The whole thing is swiftly revealed to be a torrid love affair between Suzette, Ariel's uncle, Miles, and a Miss Claremont. In other words, Miles was a cheater. But Suzette didn’t just wake up wanting revenge; her plan to fake her death made her mad as she was forced to contend with being buried in a coffin for hours.

Furthermore, Cain was in on the whole thing and was hoping to help her do it right, hence the grave digging. Also, he was the one who gave her the poison to help her fake her death, which is now being used to kill a bunch of people.

Insanity is a common theme in this series, especially when mixed with love, so it makes sense that we start with it right away. Pulling a Romeo and Juliet proved to be a terrible idea though.

After going insane, she starts killing people including Miles, her would-be Romeo.

But the really pertinent part of all of this (at least for Cain) is the revelation that Cain himself loved Suzette.

Love becomes a very prominent them in this series and the fact that the very first person we see Cain admit to loving is his insane cousin who stages her death for the sake of romance only to come back and kill everyone who did her wrong is, uh, telling.

So, the first chapter is honestly pretty straightforward but it gives us some information that is going to be crucial later on: Cain doesn't have a good relationship with his extended family, he's not a stranger to "forbidden love" (loving your cousin in a romantic sense was hardly uncommon in the 19th century but I still count it as "forbidden" here because she had no idea how he felt), he's associated enough with poisons that his extended family comes to him for help faking their deaths, and, while it's brief, we see he has a servant that seems to stick close to his side.

Honestly, I wish we’d learned a little more about Suzette. As it is we only know she was super determined and, according to Cain, always had to have her way. I suppose that gives us a basis for the kind of person he likes but not a great deal more.

And with that out of the way we’re moving on to chapter 2! This one starts out from Cain's perspective, so it already feels like a more "proper" beginning to the series. And one page in we see that Cain has some serious Sherlock Holmes tendencies:

Riff isn’t paid enough for this.

Anyway, Cain definitely isn't overly concerned with treating animals well (although he claims the hen will be fine) and his servant, Riff, whom we saw in the last chapter, is apparently already used to this kind of behavior and has all but given up on expecting things to be any different. He's definitely the Watson of the piece (except that he’s also a butler).

This mystery is another family based one--Cain seems to have a constantly revolving door of relatives. In this instance it’s his uncle Leland who asks him to look into a letter he received from his deceased daughter, Maddy, whom Cain admits to not ever noticing much.

The shadow in question was Bibi, his uncle Leland’s illegitimate daughter that he had with a prostitute and it’ ultimately Bibi that we see Cain really grow attached to. 

Maddy didn’t seem to think too highly of Cain after all:

And the feeling was apparently mutual.

This is an important scene for Cain down the road though because we eventually learn just how much he’s suffered in his own life. For him to say he can’t stand other people who wallow in self-pity it means he doesn’t allow it for himself either. It means he doesn’t allow himself to consider his own sorrow and that’s a difficult thing to maintain.

At any rate, while Cain has done a lot of questionable things in this volume so far, the one area he's shown to be chivalrous in is he doesn't take advantage of Bibi even though she’s a prostitute herself just like her mother. Even though he paid for her time he doesn't demand sexual compensation and instead admits their similarities: neither of them had parents who loved them. Bibi was never loved by her father, Leland, and her mother is cold to her as well.

This statement could have easily come from Cain himself. While the ultimate resolution of this particular story is one I'm unsure how to feel about, it parallels Cain's own life quite well, though we aren't supposed to know that just yet.

The twist of the story boils down to "Bibi" was actually "Maddy" all along and Bibi was the one who died and while Leland was contacted by his daughter it was a daughter who had been hypnotized by his ex-mistress to kill him for mistreating the real Bibi. And before you think Leland’s had it rough, he wanted to marry his daughter, Maddy, and that is why he stopped being a playboy.

...There’s a lot to take in there but we don’t have time to unpack all that but there are some tidbits of information that will be relevant later.

Maddy was an aristocrat who was forced to demean herself through prostitution just to survive and she had a father who desired her sexually. In other words, it was an abusive relationship between parent and child even though this element of the story doesn't really get touched on much. Maddy was also taken advantage of by Bibi's mother. The similarity is that Cain was also demeaned and abused by his parents and this is already being alluded to pretty early in the series. It’s also becoming apparent that it’s not just Cain’s immediate relatives who are problematic (something this volume has yet to even touch on really) but his extended family seems cursed as well. Is it a message about the aristocracy or just this bloodline? We’ll have to wait and see.

Another important element to this story is we also see that Riff is one of Cain's only constants in his life and that he supports him quietly but firmly. He doesn’t say anything accusative after Cain reveals he ultimately killed Maddy. He did it because it was the only kind thing left to do and it was at her own behest. It’s a cruel revelation: the only way he can be kind is by being cruel.

The third story is ... interesting for sure but unless I'm seriously missing something here, it doesn't seem to feature Cain at all...? I suppose one interpretation could be he was undercover years ago at a boarding school but that seems like it would be stretching it. Still, the themes very much fit in with The Cain Saga: failed attempts at immortality, the abuse of the weak by the strong, and things of that nature.

The fourth story also doesn't feature Cain at all but the themes of one person replacing another and fame corrupting fits in with the series. I would say more but, to be honest, neither of these stories give us a lot to interpret regarding Cain or the other primary characters in the series. In this particular story there’s a running thread of homophobia, which I suppose could be argued as fitting in with the forbidden love theme but I feel that’s a little tenuous at best. This is kind of an unusual thing to do in a series. I wonder if, originally, this wasn’t going to be about Cain but more of an exploration of themes? Hmm... With the fifth chapter we're back to Cain (and the 19th century...) and we're thrown in the thick of it right away with Cain accusing a man of killing his brother, and Cain's friend, Cleo. This is a very short story but it emphasizes that Cain is ... not always that kind, although ultimately he was trying to avenge Cleo. He tricks Orlando into thinking he has poisoned him (a legitimate threat considering we have already gotten it confirmed he's well known for poisons in general) and Orlando ultimately kills himself.

Once again, I would really have liked to know more about Cleo. How close were they? Later in the series it feels like Cain doesn’t have any friends at all but this points out that isn’t the case.

Riff hasn’t gotten a lot of focus this volume either but his quiet presence is notable in how it’s one of the few consistent things throughout for Cain.

Anyway, this is a bit of a rough start to the series but I actually enjoyed it quite a bit! The gothic vibe is excellent, of course, and the conundrums presented are interesting to sort through. Since it’s been so long since I read I’ll admit I’d forgotten a lot of details but I’m looking forward to relearning them. ^^ I hope to get a review up of volume 2 soon.

[sleepyfan-blog]

New Friends?

Next installment of the confession series! first chapter here. Previous chapter here. AO3 link

warnings: deception, fighting

characters and pairing: dream sans, swap sans, swap papyrus, nightmare, dreammare

word count: 3,659

tagslist: @anxiety-is-married-to-depression @angelofthehalfmoon @trainwreck-of-skeletons @hisame-amadashi​ @therandomskelekey @capisnotonfire

Dream groaned a little as he stirred, his eye lights activating as he pushed himself up - realizing that he was sitting on a couch as he stared at the unfamiliar room he was sitting in. The positive spirit felt... He felt much stronger than he had since... Since Nightmare had consumed the apples and killed most of the villagers in an attempt to protect the both of them from their lethal intentions. He sensed a couple of people in the room off of the main one on the first floor of this place. He could see the checkered floor and slowly got up to his feet, startled by how much positivity he could feel in the area around him. It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, but... The beings that he could sense around him had a great deal more Hope in their auras than he had gotten used to sensing. Dream silently made his way over to the other room, noting that it was a kitchen.

The Sans was in the middle of making something - swiftly chopping up an onion as he continued to speak, "-and I know that our visitor is a little strange, but I'd like to talk to them before we pull any of the others here. We don't want to overwhelm them - you know what Ink can be like."

"That's true." A tall, sweater-clad Papyrus acknowledged, before countering, "But how many people can you name who can open portals between universes? And they had some of Nightmare's goop on their cape, and his magic all over them."

Both of the mortal skeleton's emotive auras were filled with concern, worry and uncertainty. Dream was unsure whether or not he should speak up and reveal himself to be awake... Or just slowly slink out of their house and go home. He shuddered a little as he remembered the awful thunderstorm that still might be rocking the castle, thoroughly embarrassed by his reaction... But... He'd always been afraid of thunder - and how awful his last memory with a thunderstorm had been, Dream really didn't want to go back until the storm had passed. He hoped that Nightmare would understand. The positive spirit walked back to the couch, deciding that he should probably call out - let them believe that he hadn't overheard their conversation. Dream was concerned that he might have found some of his other half's enemies... Then again, most people who spoke of Nightmare were rather terrified of him, unfortunately. He cleared his nonexistent throat and called out, "Uhm... He-Hello? Is someone here? Where... Where am I?" Those were all legitimate questions he had.

The Sans immediately teleported over, his eye lights bright, cheerful stars as he exclaimed exuberantly, offering the other one of his hands, "Hello! I am the Magnificent Sans, although other travelers have called me Blue or Blueberry - call me whatever you like. I also use he/him pronouns. What about you, friend?" He was beaming brightly, and the other's aura was filled with curiosity and a bit of concern.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Sans the magnificent." Dream greeted with a small smile as he shook one of the other's hands firmly "My name is Dream, guardian of positivity. I use male pronouns as well."

Blue blinked at him once, the curiosity in the other's aura increasing. "What do you mean by guardian of positivity? You looked like you were moving in a really big hurry before you face planted in the snow. Oh! And you're in my and my brother's home, in Snowdin."

The positive spirit had been told what the history of the alternate worlds that Nightmare had visited were - and many of them followed several core themes - the humans and monsters had a war that the monsters lost, who were then trapped by a powerful magical soul that required the magical equivalent of seven human mages' souls to unseal, which was too much for said monsters to overcome themselves. Which is why he didn't pester the other with questions about what exactly he meant by Snowdin. It was unfortunate that either the final human to fall underground had yet to come... Or that they were toying with their time-travelling powers, finding it to be a game of sorts to learn about the monsters through doing varying different actions. He hoped it wasn't the latter...

Though Killer and Dust had suffered awfully at the hands of cruel and capricious humans until they'd snapped and destroyed them, trapped in the empty remains of their timelines until Nightmare rescued them. He was... Unsure if he should explain. "I... I am... That's kind of difficult to explain. But I can create positive feelings within other people around me - I can't not, actually. I try to help my other half to keep the emotive balance of the multiverse. I've only recently broken free of the stasis spell that kept me bound for centuries, but the two of us are doing our best to bring peace and prosperity to the multiverse, one AU or Timeline at a time." He answered earnestly, smiling sweetly up at Blue as he spoke. "... From what I've gathered, my mate was rather... harsh with the timelines he had contact with before I woke up. But I've been encouraging him to be more merciful. It's... It's a work in progress, but I really think that it's going well."

The Papyrus asked, leaning against the door frame and tilting his head curiously at him. "Who's this mate of yours? And... You don't have to answer this question if you don't want to, it is kind of personal... Why were you put in a stasis spell?"

"I... He... He is the guardian of Negativity... As for how... I... He'd just gained a lot of power, and I refused to give him the final Positive Apple, consuming it instead, so that there would be at least some positive feelings left in the multiverse... He... He was lost in his base instincts and lashed out at me, trapping me in the stasis spell. B-But he didn't mean to do that! He's apologized for hurting and trapping me." Dream explained quickly, before going quiet. His eye lights widened a little as he sensed their intense distress, anger and uncertainty. He probably shouldn't have said all of that. Nightmare had mentioned that he had dangerous enemies - there were the rebels in some of the timelines that he was helping who disliked having a stranger coming out of nowhere and daring to tell them what to do in exchange for their freedom and/or resources that they needed in order to thrive well. Time to change topics! "How long was I passed out on your couch? Oh, and I've been really rude to you. Uhm, what's your name?" He glanced at the Papyrus curiously, hopeful that he would be able to deflect the topic.

"... What's your mate's name?" The Papyrus pressed, frowning a little at him, his arms folded over his chest "And... I'm not sure that being turned to stone is just something that a simple apology can fix. At least it sure as hell wouldn't for me... I'm Papyrus, though I've also been called Stretch or Honey."

Blue frowned a little at his brother, glaring at him a little bit. "Surely if someone truly meant it when they apologized, they should be forgiven... Oh! You've only been sleeping on the couch for about ten minutes. From how low your MP was, I thought that you'd be asleep for hours."

"There are some things that are unforgivable, Sans." Stretch glowered, shifting a little and huffing. "But I know that you will disagree with me on this, so I don't think we should get into that particular argument again."

Dream was pretty sure that there was a story behind that one - especially from the way that both of the brothers were glaring at one another. The tension was really thick between the two of them, so he spoke up quietly, "Oh, in a place like this, I bounce back pretty quickly, haha..." It's nice to be in a place where there are this many positive feelings in the world around him. He's a great deal more energetic than he's been in months.

"What do you mean by that? Also... Are you okay? You looked really distressed when you first appeared through the portal." Blue asked curiously, concern eclipsing the other's irritation at the odd dig at forgiveness from Stretch.

"I... I gather energy from the positive feelings of others, so the more upbeat people are around me - and not just immediately around me, but in the portion of the world I am in, the more quickly I regain MP, and the more energy I have to use before I need to eat or sleep." Dream explained with a bright smile. "And yeah, I-I'm fine. It's just... There was a really bad thunderstorm going on in my AU and I... I r-really... I'm afraid of thunder..." Dream admitted shyly, a light blush appearing on his face as he glanced away from both of the brothers, feeling silly. "... Some really bad things happened the last time I was in a thunderstorm and the... Th-The panic and fear caused me to run away..." He probably should go back home but... There was every chance that the thunderstorm was still going on and... Dream shuddered a little. He doubted that he would react any better now to the thunderstorm than he had a little over ten minutes ago.

"Thunder... Wait! Does that mean you're from a... A surface AU?" Blue murmured, his eye lights widening a little before turning into stars, an eager grin appearing on his face. Such worlds were relatively rare, at least from what he had encountered as a battle-companion of Ink's.

"Yes, and as far as I know, there was never a monster-human war in my timeline. Then again, I've heard much about the power that Determined Humans have in other worlds, which is so strange to me, as even the most powerful Determination Mage was unable to turn back time in that AU, and that still holds true." Dream murmured quietly, tilting his head a little. Then again, he and Nightmare were the most powerful magical beings - human or monster - in their AU... And that seemed to hold true in the worlds that Nightmare had visited. Then again, neither of them were human nor monster, though their physical forms were skeletal in nature. Dream had asked Nightmare if there were other guardians - but his beloved had gotten a strange look in his eyes and refused to answer.

"I... Okay. There's a lot to unpack in what you just said... Do you think that your presence here prohibits any determined humans from Resetting this timeline?" Stretch asked, shifting a little bit closer to him, fascination, surprise and a quiet sort of desperation in his magical aura that caused Dream to frown a little in concern.

"Brother... They promised not to do so again, and they've been trying really hard to be good! I know that they can make it this time." Blue responded, though he too was curious and hopeful.

"I don't know - but Moonbeam's fought Determined humans in the past - had their soul in his hand, even as they tried to reset, and they were unable to do so in his presence. He's stronger than I am, though." Dream answered as honestly as he could, choosing to use one of the nicknames he had for his beloved, rather than calling the other by his true name. Part of him was worried that he might have accidentally found some of his beloved's enemies who weren't part of the other's empire... And calling him Moonbeam made Nightmare sputter a little and blush cutely, so that's what Dream was going to go with. At least until he figured out if they were friends or foes.

“Moonbeam, who is that?” Honey asked curiously, tilting his head a little at the positive spirit as he continued to observe Dream closely.

“Hmm? Oh, He's my mate.” Dream explained with a smile.

“Awww…. Did you know that your eye lights turn into little hearts briefly when you mention your mate? It's really sweet.” Blue pointed, his own eye lights turning into excited stars, his hands coming up to his mouth as he beamed happily at the positive guardian.

"Hey... Blue, I really think that Dream should probably meet Ink - I mean... Ink is the guardian of the AUs - I'm sure that they should talk for a bit... Unless - Have you and your mate already met him? He's a pretty unforgettable guy." Stretch suggested, a small smile on his face.

Dream shook his head, and answered honestly, "I've never heard of Ink before... But this is the first time I've ever left my home timeline. I've known that I've been capable of it for months now, I just... haven't." He'd very much wanted to explore the worlds - ideally with Nightmare at his side, but the other had wanted him to wait until he was back at full strength in order to do so... And when the negative guardian had some time to do so, as Dream was well aware of just how busy Nightmare was.

"Oh? Is there a particular reason why you haven't left before? Or were you just not in the mood?" Stretch questioned, the easygoing smile still on his face, though there was suspicion in the other's emotional aura.

The positive guardian hesitated for a moment before answering honestly, "I've been trying to catch up on everything that's happened in the three hundred or so years I was trapped in a stasis spell. N-Moonbeam's been very busy while I was stuck and I've been learning what he's been up to!" Dream nearly called Nightmare by his true name, but managed to hold off from doing so as he still was unsure as to whether or not these people were allies, enemies or were unknowing of who his mate was. From what he had gathered, Nightmare had hidden information about who Dream had been while he'd been trapped as a statue, in order to protect him when he was in an incredibly vulnerable state.

"I... I'm not sure, Paps." Blue responded with a small sigh. "Ink's usually quite busy..."

"Awh... You can at least text him? I'm sure that Dream'll be here for the next couple of hours at least - or however long that thunderstorm in his home timeline's supposed to last. I don't mind having someone crashing on the couch for a while. It wouldn't be the first time." Stretch pointed out, still smiling a little. "... Also were you able to tell your mate that you were going to be headed out, or did the sound from the thunder startle you too badly? You should probably call or text him to tell him that you're safe, but out of the universe."

Dream nodded, checking his pockets for the phone that Nightmare had given him recently, hoping that he hadn't forgotten the fascinating little device. The ringtone that he'd spent time picking out for Nightmare started to play... In the couch? Dream carefully pulled up one of the cushions and sure enough, there it was. He told the pair of mortals, "Moon's calling me... I'll take this outside."

He grabbed his phone and walked outside, noting the monsters milling about and making his way to the back of Blue and Stretch's house. Dream answered as soon as he was out of sight of everyone. "Hey Nighty..."

"Dream, where are you?" Nightmare asked, his voice tense and concerned.

Dream could hear a distant, if muffled rumble of thunder and shivered a little as he answered honestly, "I'm in an Underswap AU... I've been talking to the Sans and Papyrus for a little bit. They're really nice! I... I'm sorry for vanishing suddenly... I-I just..."

"You're afraid of thunder." The negative spirit sighed, completing Dream's sentence before he could say it. "I know. I was trying to reach you as soon as I heard the first rumble... But you were moving too quickly and you vanished before I could try to calm you down a little. I've been texting you the whole time... I was worried that you might have forgotten your phone."

"I... Sorry. I don't know why I didn't hear my phone go off. Then again, I woke up not too long ago. Apparently I passed out in the snow in Snowdin, but I'm feeling a lot better now... I-I just... I don't know how I'll react if I try to go home before the storm's over." Dream admitted quietly, shaking a little as he heard another muffled rumble of thunder, and quietly hating the fact that the loud sound was still able to affect him so much. He shoved away the awful memories the sound was bringing up. Things were better now. Nightmare had apologized for attacking him after he'd lost control of himself due to the Negative apples that he'd desperately consumed in order to protect them both.

"... Do the Sans and Papyrus have nicknames that they use when dealing with travelers from outside their world,  or were they taken by surprise at your appearance?" Nightmare asked, his voice neutral - but kind of like he was trying to make himself stay calm.

"The Sans also called himself Blue and Blueberry, and the Papyrus said he's also called Honey and Stretch! Also they mentioned another guardian, by the name of Ink?" Dream answered earnestly. "Do you know who that is?"

Nightmare growled a little at the name and responded, "I need you to go to the giant set of purple doors at the far end of the snowy section of the underground - Hatchet will be waiting for you there. Ink, Blue and Stretch are rather dangerous enemies of mine, and I do not know what they will do if they find out just how dear and precious you are to me, or if they get even so much as a hint of that."

Alarm shot through Dream at the other’s words and he nodded a little before realizing that the other wouldn’t be able to see him do that, and answered verbally. “Of course! Wh-what about once I get to Hatchet?”

“He’ll show you the coordinates to a safe AU for you to head to and stay until the storm passes. I'll come and get you.” Nightmare responded, voice warm and gentle. “I wish I could be with you right now, but…”

“You mentioned that you had to meet with several AU leaders today.” Dream finished quietly, understanding that the other was really busy “I hope that I didn't make too much of a scene…” He was already starting to move through the small town as he talked to his other half. Part of him felt guilty about just vanishing on Blue and Stretch, but Nightmare said they were enemies. The younger man wasn't going to allow himself to be used against the other if he could at all help it.

“No, I was able to smooth things over with them fairly easily.” Nightmare reassured him. “... And I would rather you stay on the phone until you get to Hatchet, but the trek through the forest outside of Snowdin can be long. Also there are sentries posted at regular intervals for humans, so watch out.”

“Okay, I should be able to sense them before they detect me,  but I'll be careful.” Dream promised, a small smile on his face. He could just tell them that one of his mate's friends had arrived in the AU and the two of them would be on their way- as far as he could tell, they were unaware that he even knew Nightmare… But one or both of them might insist on meeting his mate's friend... Or they would be offended that he'd not taking their offer of hospitality as he wouldn't want to inform him that he was saying no because Nightmare was an enemy of theirs as that was just asking for trouble - which Dream did his best not to try to do if he could at all help it. "I'll text you as soon as I reach Hatchet, alright?"

"I... That sounds reasonable." Nightmare answered after a moment, relief obvious to Dream in the other's voice. "I love you darling. Stay safe. I'll talk to you as soon as I can."

Guilt tugged at his soul, and Dream started to move a little bit faster, doing his best to stay out of the main road through town as he answered quietly, "I love you too, Nightmare. I... I-I can try to come home..."

"No, the storm's getting a lot worse, and while the enchantments on the castle will ensure that everyone and everything within will be protected from the elements... The sounds of the storm raging around the place will continue to be heard and I... I don't want to feel your distress and terror when there's another answer," the negative guardian answered immediately and firmly. "Get to Hatchet as soon as you can, and I'll come by when I can - either after the storm has passed, or once I've finished my duties for the day. Whichever comes first."

"I... Okay. See you soon, I hope!" Dream responded, hearing the other end the call before starting to run at a pace that he could keep up for hours if he needed, glancing around to make sure that no one was following him before he finished getting through snowdin. He stopped at the very rickety looking bridge, staring at the far side and teleporting to the other side of it and continuing to jog quickly. He hid in a snow poff as a large, armored monster went lumbering past him, and he teleported to the other side of the clearing, running for a while and dodging from one of bit of cover to the next, as he could sense the occasional monster wandering through the forest.

[randombtsprincessa]

Aberrations || 7

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Chapter:   01  02  03  04  05  06

Warning: Smut!

“Stigma,” I read out loud as Taehyung put a carton of eggs in the shopping trolley. I looked up at him curiously. He caught my eye and smiled softly. “It’s not nice?” he asked. I handed him the laminated paper carefully. “It’s beautiful, Tae. I am really touched.” I said.

“Thanks, what about you by the way? Are you going to show me the song?” he asked.

“I will, as soon as we get back, ok?” I promised and he gave me his trademark boxy grin, pulling his glasses off and putting them in his pocket before rubbing his eyes.

“Man, all this fluorescence is going to make me go blind.” He muttered as we moved to the next aisle.

“What kind of toothpaste were you using again?” I asked.

Tae, like us, didn’t live on the campus, instead choosing to live in a small apartment. The rent was affordable to him so he didn’t need a roommate which was both good and bad for him. It meant, we could come over whenever we wanted to but it also meant that Tae had to do all the domesticities himself and he was beyond helpless when it came to that.

Helping him run his household was one of the things that came written in our friendship. I had noticed how his house litter mostly comprised of take away boxes and cans of drinks.

I smiled, remembering the first day I’d gone over to work on our first project together. It had been a month and he’d stopped stuttering in every sentence that he spoke to me, which I had taken as a good sign so I had…sort of invited myself over.

“Don’t judge, please,” he said, swiping off clothes off the floor, “I wasn’t planning to bring someone over…ever,” he said, nervously.

“Don’t worry about it, Taehyung.” I said, sitting gingerly on the sofa. “Do you always eat outside food?” I asked.

“Yeah, I can’t cook.” He said.

I shrugged, “You can come over to dinner with us, you know. You’re always welcome.” I’d said.

He shrugged too.

“Listen, how about we go out and get you some real food, ok?” I’d asked, and gone food shopping to the grocery store which led to it becoming something of a ritual. Now, he either ate with us or at least had something that wouldn’t give him constant indigestion.

Taehyung plucked the toothpaste he wanted and set it in the basket before looking at me. “Isn’t that Hoseok?” he asked. I turned around to see that, indeed, Hobi was walking towards us in a red jacket and a black cap on. “Hey, guys,” he said, reaching us.

“Hey,” we returned.

“It’s been a while, I haven’t seen you people at Dark Wild in a while.” He said.

“Well, we’ve been busy. The studio project,” Taehyung muttered. Hoseok’s eyes went to me for a split second and he grinned at Taehyung. “That’s why I took Dance. Moving my body more than using my brains any day,” he laughed.

“Says you, aren’t you the main choreographer?” I asked smiling and he made a fuss. “Don’t’ remind me. Sometimes the load is so much; it makes me wonder if it’s worth it. Don’t let Yoongi hear that though, he’ll spout out some bullshit about how passion should always be followed and I’ll have to duct tape him.” He said.

“I doubt Yoongi’s someone you can duct tape to a chair.” I giggled at the thought.

“Don’t be so doubtful, we have tied him down once. Jimin, me and his brother…of course he was drunk.” He said.

I burst out laughing and Taehyung looked at me strangely for a second as Hobi nodded finally. “Ok, I just came to grab some milk. Better get back, see you guys later or at Sehun’s party.” He said.

I waved back and turned to see Tae still staring at me. “What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he muttered, grabbing the handles of the trolley and moving on.

“Where is she?” Sehun asked as he pulled off his jacket, looking around the apartment. “Shopping with Tae, what’s wrong?” Ara asked. “Nothing’s wrong, why does everyone keep asking me what’s wrong? Why does something have to be wrong for me to come see my girlfriend?” Sehun asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

There was a pause in which Ara raised her eyebrows and Doona stuck her head out of her room.

“Well, with dulcet tones like that, do you really wonder?” she asked, coming to stand next to Ara, both facing off with their best friend’s boyfriend.

He looked at both of them before narrowing his eyes. “She’s said something, hasn’t she?” he asked.

Ara and Doona both exchanged glances, a silent conversation that maybe Y/N had been right about Sehun acting strange. The old Sehun would never refer to the girl he claimed to love with malicious scorn. If it was this bad, maybe Y/N had been right in being off about him.

“Sehun, did you make her leave your date early and alone a few days ago?” Ara asked slowly.

“She left. I didn’t make her leave. I was trying to make it up to her!” he said.

“That’s not how she says it and no offense, Sehun, but Y/N may keep things from us but she never lies to us.” Doona said, firmly.

“She forgave me, guys, you really have no reason to be digging on me like this.” He said, folding his arms and looking at then coldly.

Doona met his cold gaze with her own. “I don’t know what’s going on with you guys but I don’t want my best friend to get hurt, Sehun.” She said. Sehun blanched.

“I’m not hurting her, Doona. I just need my space too.” He said.

“Be careful with how much space you take. You might just find her giving you exactly what you want.” Ara said.

Sehun sighed, ruffling his hair once. “Maybe, I’ll see you girls at the party.” He strode past them and out the door, slamming it shut after him.

Doona looked at her friend and they both reached an unspoken conclusion. They would believe their friend about Sehun and they wouldn’t tell her about his visit.

Taehyung and I stuffed all of his kitchen cabinets with the new groceries and I began to make some noodles for us as he sat on the counter, swinging his head and watching me with great interest as I moved around his kitchen with ease.

“I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to learn how to cook, you know, it’s just…I can’t.” he confessed.

I rolled my eyes.

“You can whip up music out of thin air but you can’t make something edible from solid ingredients?” I asked.

“Exactly, it’s a curse.” He sighed.

I shoved his shoulder playfully and he laughed. “You were going to show me your song.” He reminded me.

“Oh right, here, keep stirring this or it will stick,” I said, handing him the large spoon as I went to the living room to rummage into my bag.

No paper…

My heart sped up for a split second at the thought of losing the lyrics that had come so easily to me before remembering that I must’ve left it at the stand of the mike set.

I cursed loudly.

“It’s not burnt, I didn’t do anything!” Tae called from the kitchen.

“Tae, you eat alone today, I need to go to Genius Lab!” I yelled.

“What? Why?” he called back.

“I forgot my song there!”

“Just get it later!”

“No! I don’t want to lose it! I don’t want,” I trailed off not completing my sentence.

I didn’t want Yoongi to see it.

I picked up my bag and ran for my life out the door.

I made it to college in an hour, my feet sore and aching from moving so fast, as I continued to run across the expanse of the campus to get to the studios.

I skidded twice on the smooth tiles of the hallways as I finally reached Genius Lab only to hear voices inside. Oh god, he was here and he was here with someone…

My heart sunk now…what if he had seen the lyrics? What would he think? Would he think they were ok? Or would he think they were for Sehun? Or would he figure it out and find out that it was for him? The tune was his pianos after all.

“I don’t see why you can’t just come with us. He invited you too.” That was Jimin.

“No, he invited you and Hobi, he only extended that invitation to me because I was there and he was drunk, like always.” Yoongi said.

“Y/N invited you.” Jimin said and there was a pause, long and meaningful. “What does that matter? It’s not her party. I doubt the guy really wants to see me there.” Yoongi said.

“Look, I understand why you feel averse to Sehun,” Jimin began.

“Excuse me? You don’t understand anything and you don’t know anything. Stop pushing your and Hobi’s wishful thoughts on me.” Yoongi snapped.

Another pause.

“It’s not wishful thinking if it’s true and you wouldn’t be snapping at me if I was Hobi.” Jimin said.

“Jimin, get out.”

“But Yoongi, just tell,” Yoongi cut him brusquely.

“I said out!”

I heard Jimin huff and the door swung open and Yoongi stood there, his face red and his nostrils flared as he held the door open for Jimin to walk out. Jimin was scowling at Yoongi but he froze, his expression smoothening out when he saw me, staring at them with wide, confused and slightly scared eyes.

Yoongi whipped his head to see what Jimin was looking at and even his eyes widened. “Y/N, why were you eavesdropping?” he snapped at me too.

“I wasn’t, I just came,” I lied, looking away as both men surveyed me but didn’t push it.

“Right, Jimin was just leaving.” Yoongi said, throwing a pointed look at Jimin who pursed his lips in obvious displeasure and threw me a smile. “See you at the party, Y/N.” he said and with a final look at Yoongi he walked off as I moved in, going straight to the stand.

The paper was still there and I sighed, sliding it out and into my bag as Yoongi closed the door, looking at me curiously.

“Am I rubbing off on you, sweetheart? I didn’t think you would come in today.” He said.

“You must be,” I offered weakly as he slid into the chair at the computer.

“Well, I’m sorry but I’m not working on the project today. I just didn’t want Namjoon to think both of us were slacking.” He said.

“You shouldn’t have to do that.” I said.

“It doesn’t matter. I need to work on my own stuff for a while and I figure you might want to get your boyfriend,”

“Sehun,” I said.

He grimaced, “Fine, I thought you might want to get Sehun, a present.” He said.

“Oh, um, well, I already got one for him, don’t worry.” I moved closer to his chair. “What are you working on?” I asked.

“Just some lyrics,” he moved the sheets away and I backed up, giving him the privacy he clearly asked for.

“You should go, I really do need to work.” He pressed and I nodded absently.

Why was he pushing me away like this? Was he hiding something? What were he and Jimin talking about?

I bundled up my questions for another time as I met his gaze, heated and focused on me completely as he waited for me to show myself out. I didn’t want to go though. His presence had soothed some of the frazzled nerves that always surrounded me and it was like I was itching for comfort, especially when I would have to spend time with Sehun tonight, who was the main cause for said frazzled nerves.

I just wanted him there even if just to take my edge off.

“Please, will you come to the party?” I asked.

He sighed, fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I already said no, Y/N.” he said in a final ‘I won’t discuss this anymore’ tone.

“Fine,” I said softly, moving towards the door and letting myself out.

I had to get out of here.

I thought as Sehun laughed boisterously to something someone said from one of his classes. His arm was latched around my shoulders, his side pressing against mine, his voice echoing in my ears. It was his usual way of holding me, I was used to it but now his arm felt too heavy, his body uncomfortable against mine and his voice too loud.

I was feeling like the most terrible person to ever walk the earth.

Here I was, standing next to the man I said I loved, but now his very presence made me tense. It was his birthday for god’s sake. I was supposed to be happy for him but all I could think of how much more comfy it would’ve been if I was just sitting next to Yoongi, watching him perform magic on the computer while he talked and taught me how to do the same.

I was horrible and guilt was eating me alive. I could see Taehyung, Jimin and Hobi standing to one side with Ara and Doona and saw them pull each other to the dance floor but I stayed where I was, feeling too exhausted to join them.

I was so focused on my own thoughts that I didn’t feel my arm being taken and being led away until I heard Yerin speak in my ear. “You look like you have lost your entire family. Chill, what’s up?” she hissed.

“I just…it’s nothing, I have a headache and it’s too hot in here.” I said, fanning myself for extra measure.

It’s always been hot in here, Y/N. Would this headache, perhaps, be called Min Yoongi?” she asked.

“God, Yerin, honestly, you’re the one obsessing over him!” I hissed.

She kept looking at me and I sighed, looking down, making her chuckled. “This is funny actually. I mean not Yoongi, but it’s just that no one would’ve thought Sehun would lose you so spectacularly. Ara was just telling me,” she said.

“Wait, what was Ara telling you?” I frowned.

She took a sip of her drink, watching Sehun laugh around with narrowed eyes. “He showed up when you were out today. Even they think something is off about Sehun now, so you don’t have to worry about them being not in your ball court anymore.” She said.

“He…what…?” I asked.

“He didn’t do anything, exactly but we girls are intuitive. They picked up on something.” She shrugged.

I turned around slowly, watching Sehun as he smacked one of the guy’s back as they most like commented and joked about the girls in the club. I suddenly felt sick.

“Yerin,” I said quietly.

“Hmm,” she answered.

“I need a drink.” I said.

I had lost count of my drinks. I just knew that it was becoming dangerously close to ten.

I looked down at my glass full of the clear drink which had been burning my throat and making my brain full of fuzz but I didn’t stop myself from taking another gulp.

It was getting increasingly hotter in here and I wanted a cold shower.

“Y/N that is enough,” I heard Yerin mutter next to me as she grabbed the glass out of my hand, making me whine a little. “Seriously, if Ara and Doona find you like this they’re going to gut me. Let’s go to the bathroom and get you cleaned off.” She hissed.

“I don’t want to clean up. I want to go home.” I mumbled, dropping my head on her shoulder.

“We will, babe, but at least let’s make you decent enough to get home.” She said, trying and failing to haul me out of the bar stool.

“What’s going on here?”

Yerin winced and I turned my head, my poor pounding head, to see Sehun standing over me, looking from the glass to my clearly out of it position.

“Y/N, are you…how much did you drink?” he asked.

“A lot, I think,” I mumbled.

“Marvelous,” he glanced at Yerin, “You couldn’t even stop her?” he asked harshly.

“I am trying to help her, Sehun. Since you just showed up, I suggest you don’t talk about things you don’t know about.” Yerin retorted, still pulling on my hand. I swatted hers away.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N, it’s my birthday! You couldn’t control your alcoholic urges for one day? What did I do to deserve this?” he hissed, his own hand grasping mine and lifting me easily out of the chair with his extra strength.

I gasped, immediately pulling my hand away from his.

“My alcoholic urges? What the hell are you talking about?” I said.

“Please, don’t act like I don’t know what you do when I’m not around with your girls. You come here and drink yourself out of your mind. You did it the day we went out and you actually walked out on me. Who does that?” he asked.

“Someone who’s tired of her boyfriend – who said it was a date – always looking at his phone. Are you actually saying I was doing things under influence? Wow, Sehun,” I scoffed.

He frowned.

“You are really drunk! You never talk to me like this.” He said.

“Yes, well, I guess I should’ve. Maybe I need the drink to get some courage to speak in front of the big and mighty Oh Sehun. You have been nothing but a jerk to me for the past couple of months and you always apologize and do it again!” I said.

“I’ve been stressed!” he yelled.

“And I’m not your punching bag!” I yelled right back.

“Guys, shut up, both of you,” Yerin said.

Sehun and I glared at each other, neither of us willing to back off. If I had been sober I would’ve looked down and saved up my anger for later, stewing in it myself. Guess, the alcohol did make me braver because I scoffed at Sehun and brushed past him, shoving off of his shoulder as I walked away.

“Y/N, where are you going?” I heard Yerin walk out after me and I chuckled bitterly.

“Away from all this crap,” I said.

“Not exactly a satisfactory answer,” Yerin said.

“Do me a favor, Yerin, just for today, leave me alone,” I said, and didn’t look back as I kept on walking.

Yerin, mercifully, listened to me, albeit her face betraying her real emotions. She didn’t want to leave me alone in this condition. I was drunk, more than I had ever been and I was admittedly vulnerable right now but I didn’t want to acknowledge that right now.

It was true, I wouldn’t have let me walk away if I had been Yerin either but she knew how stubborn I could get.

I pulled my coat over my body tighter, thankful I had decided to wear boots instead of pumps.

I also was in no condition to walk home. I just didn’t want to be in the apartment where some vestiges of Sehun still remained. It was done. I was so done with him and his continuous bullshit.

Why should I sit around always waiting for him to be normal? This was obviously normal for him if he thought he could insult me all the time.

I stopped a couple blocks from the club, my feet slowing with my rising apprehension as the cold seeped into me, trying to battle my drunken haze but it was putting up a good fight, screaming at me that I made the right decision. Where was I supposed to do?

I couldn’t go to Yerin’s, or Taehyung’s or even Jimin’s. I was literally stranded.

Just as I was about to resign myself to go to my apartment the answer struck me out of nowhere, both terrifying and tempting at the same time.

I could go to Yoongi.

My mind immediately reminded my feet of the way to his building but I cowered away.

How would he react? Would he even let me in or would he see it as a breach in his privacy? What if his parents were there or his brother? What would he think of me, showing up on his doorstep?

Was I even ready to see him right now?

I shook my head as my feet metaphorically laughed at me, carrying me towards the classy neighborhood where people wrapped in expensive coats walked, too busy in their own worlds to notice my less that active and mindful steps.

I didn’t stop till I was in his elevator, moving up towards the top of the building to his penthouse.

As I stood at his door, my fist wondering if I should knock or not, my mind came to a screeching halt. This was wrong. I shouldn’t be here. What was I thinking?

Just as I was about to turn around the door swung open, revealing the one person I wanted to see but was so scared of facing.

Yoongi was in a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants, his pale skin starkly contrasting with it. His hair was completely brown now, no orange streaks shining in the lights. It was rumpled as if he’d been running his hands through his hair multiple times.

It was such a homely look yet Yoongi looked utterly attractive in it.

I stood frozen in front of him as he stared at me questioningly, his arms folded.

“The doorman told me you were coming up. I saw you standing in the camera for ten minutes,” he nodded at the security box next to the door and I nodded back, feeling foolish now. He’d known I was coming up. Why hadn’t he opened the door? Was it a test? Did he want to see if I was actually going to come to him? If that was so, why did he open up just as I was leaving? Did he want me to come to him?

So many questions whirled in my head, I could feel an actually headache coming on, which had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol I’d consumed.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. It was rude of me to show up like this. I shouldn’t have -,” I began.

“It’s ok,” he said quietly, still staring intensely at me.

“Right,” I said, backing up a bit more, still looking down, “I should go then.” I said.

He ignored it completely. “Come in,” he said.

My head snapped up to look at him as he moved inside the house, leaving the door open for me. I frowned in that direction. Did he mean it?

I didn’t ask, I just moved towards him and he shut the door after me.

It was so like the first time I’d been there, stopping just inside the door. “How drunk are you?” he asked. “What?” I asked. He gave me a pointed look at he brushed past me.

“You’re drunk. I can tell. There is no way you would come here sober.” He said, walking into the large kitchen at the back and bringing back a glass of water. “Sit on the couch,” he said, handing me the glass and moving away again.

I gripped the crystal cut glass nervously, moving to sit on the same spot I’d sat the first time I’d been here. He was right. I was still so unsure around him, given his past behavior and my own stupid feelings, I would never even think about coming to his house. I could hear him rummaging in his kitchen and the occasional sigh of annoyance that was so natural about him. I’d heard him do the same sigh, when the college computer froze or when he was scribbling at it won’t be as good or when he thought I wasn’t listening when he was teaching me something.

I sipped at the ice cold water gingerly when he came back, a ceramic plate in hand.

“I don’t have any food in the house. I forgot to make a run today but I have these. It should be enough. If you’re hungry, I could order some takeout.”

He placed the plate of chocolate chip cookies on the coffee table before sitting beside me, a good distance away, I noticed.

“Don’t drink the water like its wine. You’re supposed to shock your system into soberness.” He chastised and I obeyed, taking in a large gulp before giggling.

Min Yoongi had chocolate chips in his house.

“What?” he asked.

“You have chocolate chip cookies?” I asked.

He scowled at me. “Problem, sweetheart?” he demanded.

“No, it’s just…I didn’t think you were a chocolate chip kind of person.” I said.

He huffed. “I’m not. They are Jimin’s favorite. He and Hobi are the ones who do the drunk crashing here. You just joined that lost.” He said.

I reddened. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -,” I said but he interrupted again. “Stop it; I said its ok, didn’t I? What did Sehun do now?” he asked, stretching his arm across the back of the sofa towards me.

I sighed before mumbling about what had happened at the Club.

“I know I should end it but…” I trailed off when I saw his eyes flicker.

“What’s stopping you?” he asked.

I shrugged, munching on a cookie. “I guess I’m just scared.” I said. He frowned. “Of what?” he asked.

I looked up at him to see his eyes on me but they weren’t intense. He was genuinely curious. His eyes were still boring into me but they weren’t fierce, they had a quiet sort of tension in them. I studied him.

Unbeknownst to me, he had moved closer in the span of my story, he was sitting at almost touching distance now, his knee just shy of grazing my folded legs.

I followed the line of his nose and looked at his lips, supple and smooth. I almost whined at the sight. It was so unfair. I would’ve been lying if I’d said I hadn’t thought about what they would feel like on me, when I was both sober and drunk. Now he was so closed and I was still afraid.

“Tell me what you are scared of.” He said a silent command in the words.

I was scared of him. I was scared of what Sehun would do. I was scared of what Yoongi wouldn’t do. To be honest, I was just scared of what I was feeling.

I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out. Instead I unconsciously leaned into him. He smelt warm, like fabric softener and cinnamon with just a hint of something else. Something, darker and more impressive, I couldn’t place my finger on it.

“What are you doing?” he asked suddenly but he didn’t sound affronted. He sounded surprised but I didn’t care. I was officially out of it now. I just wanted to feel his lips…just once, I had wanted to for so long. One touch wouldn’t hurt anyone…I was just coveting something secretly, just one simple brush…

I felt his warm breath on my cheek as I, excruciatingly slowly and nervously, closed my lips on his full bottom lip. His body had frozen, he wasn’t even breathing as I pressed my lips on his, the bottom lips parting gently as he swallowed harshly.

I let go of the lip but didn’t pull completely away.

Wow…that was softer than what I’d been imagining and a lot more addicting. My eyes shifted from his now slightly redder lower lip to the perfectly formed upper lip, wondering if I could sneak in another feel. I wasn’t hurting anybody, I was just hurting myself because it would be the last…he wouldn’t mind a last touch. I brushed my lips against the upper curve, placing tiny kissed on the cupid bow when his lips moved under me.

“Y/N,” he said.

My name came out breathy and husky and I backed up to look at him. His eyes were wide, his nostrils flared, lips still parted. His posture hadn’t changed at all, as he stared at me. His eyes were raging now but I didn’t know if it was anger. It didn’t seem like anger as he reached out with the hand he had on the back of the sofa, his pianist hands cradling my head, gently while the other came up to run two fingers down the expanse of my temple to chin, a softness I wouldn’t even dream of coming from him.

“Yoongi,” I muttered and he snapped, all gentleness thrown out the window as he slammed his mouth on mine.

Our teeth clashed but he didn’t stop, pressing into me harder and pushing me closer to him as his lips, hot and plush kept attacking mine, prying my mouth open so he could slip in a tongue, dominating over mine without a fight. His fingers dug in my chin, the other going into my hair as he turned so our bodies were aligned, no space left between them.

He pulled away just as fast as he’d kissed me, eyes hypnotic as he glared at me. Was he going to scold me now?

“What do you think you’re doing to me?” he growled before using his grip of my hair to pull me back to him, this time his mouth just slightly softer against mine but still demanding and ruthless, his tongue easily moving into my mouth as I panted against his lips.

“Yoongi,” I moaned when he brushed it against the top of my mouth, but it wasn’t teasing, the way Sehun did it. It was a taunt. I remembered he’d seen us in class that day, when I’d caught him staring at us. He had clearly seen that tactic and my reaction to it. He was using it to mock Sehun, making the move his own, using it in a way I would never be able to associate it to anyone else but Yoongi.

He cursed as he moved away from me, fingers unlatching from me as he stood up; hand reaching out to grip my arm as he pulled me up. I stumbled against him, my intoxication still making me heady and he stopped, examining me carefully. “Are you sure?” he asked.

My eyes were already fixed on his mouth and I didn’t even hear the question as I tried to kiss him. He held me back and made me focus on his eyes. “Y/N, are you absolutely sure?” he asked, giving me a gentle shake just to get the point across.

“Yes, yes, please just kiss me,” I nodded desperately.

I would say anything just to get him to touch me. He chuckled darkly, his lips coming too close before moving away again as I chased after his mouth. “So needy,” he breathed, his hands settling on my shoulder as he angled his head against my neck, lips pressing to the point just under my ear, his loud breaths echoing in my ear.

I tilted my head to give him more access and he began nibbling his way down to my collar bone, his teeth digging in for a split second but it was enough to make my breath hitch, a cry rising up as he rolled his tongue on the spot to soothe the sting.

“So sensitive,” he said as he began to push me back. We moved to a hallway and he backed me into the wall, his mouth against mine again, kissing me slowly now, teasingly, pulling back just as I let myself lose into him. I clutched his shirt, bunching the material in my fingers, keeling slightly when he moved away again, making him grin.

“Yoongi, please!” I said and he smirked, before opening a door open and pushing us both in.

It was his bedroom but I couldn’t see anything properly, what with my attention diverted to more interesting things and also that he had a small white light on in the floor corners. His fingers were moving across my back, seeking the zipper and he pulled it down, and almost ripping the dress in the process.

“I thought you liked the dress,” I mumbled when he let the dress pool around my ankles.

“I do, but you wore it for him.” He said, a small hint of annoyance rising in his onyx eyes.

“I got the dress because you liked it,” I said, watching the annoyance, switch with pleasant surprise before his trademark smirk spread over his face again.

“I’ll apologize to the dress later then.” he said as his hands went to my hips, pushing me back to study me before looking back into my eyes again.

“Want me to touch you, sweetheart?” he taunted.

“Please,” I whispered, and he immediately obeyed, as he jerked me back him and wrapped his arms around me, dropping his head to my chest, placing chaste rough kisses over the skin, stopping to suck here and there.

I threw my head back as he arched my back, undoing the bra clasp and pulling away so he could watch it fall the strapless bra fall off of me. He let out a low grunt.

“Fuck, Y/N.” With a light shove he pushed me on my back on the bed and grinned as he removed his shirt.

“You look good, spread out like this for me,” he said and moved closer, grabbing my ankle and hiking it up as he started placing kisses from my ankles, moving down with each inch of skin before curving around my knee, hands grabbing at the things as he pushed them apart, eyes on my face as I stared at his ministrations.

“Hips,” he said and I obediently raised them as he slipped his hands under my body, fingers hooking around the waistband of the black satin underwear and tugging them down, not once removing his eyes from mine.

He only looked away when he let the smooth fabric fall on the floor, joining them as he kneeled there, looking at my core with his lips pulled between his teeth.

“Look how wet you are,” he breathed, swiping his fingers over my folds before holding them up for me to see. The light was too low but I could easily see the juices glistening on his fingertips as he smirked and put them in his mouth, sucking on them as if it was liquid chocolate. I moaned at the sight, my head falling back.

Heat was raging in my body as I felt him move away to just stare at me. He was as close as I wanted him but I needed him closer. I wanted him to consume me and he wasn’t going to do that standing and just looking at me.

“Yoongi please, do something.” I said, propping myself on his cool sheets. I was about to implode if he didn’t put his hands on me.

“What do you want me to do, sweetheart? Where do you want me?” he asked, moving closer and leaning down to place both his hands on either side of my body, hovering over m but still not touching me.

I leant up and kissed around his neck and shoulders, going down his chest.

“I want you to fuck me,” I said against his equally hot skin and he cursed again, turning his head so he could look me in the eyes. “Are you…?” he began but I cut him off with a rough kiss, clashing tongues and teeth. “Yes, please, I need you inside me.” I said, reaching down to his now obvious erection and palming it lightly.

“Don’t tease me.” he growled.

“Rich coming from you, you’ve been teasing me all this time,” I said but he reached down and slipped a finger inside me and I gasped, words disappearing in my mouth as my head lolled back, making him chuckle.

“Am I still teasing, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and husky as he bent down and took a nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling rhythmically while alternating it with light and harsh sucks.

I entangled my fingers in his silky hair, another wish fulfilled I thought as I held him against my skin and he pushed another finger inside me, spreading my juices around as his thumb circled my clit, the rough pad of his digits proving the perfect friction as he curled his fingers inside me, reaching the spot easily to make me see stars.

I cried out and he let go of my breast with a pop. “Found it,” he announced, triumphantly as he moved to the other nipple, paying it the same attention.

“Please, Yoongi,” I said, feeling a coil form in my abdomen, pulsating inside me to let go. He pulled his fingers out immediately at the sound and I mouthed wordlessly at him, feeling the heat subside.

“You’re going to come on my cock, sweetheart. Here, taste how delicious you are,” he brought his fingers up to my mouth and I flinched slightly.

Sehun had never done this. He complimented me when he went down on me yes, but he had never done this. Yoongi could probably tell from my face that I’d never done this but he just rocked his sweat pant clad bulge against me. “Open up,” he ordered and I slowly let my mouth fall open, letting his slip a slender finger in. “Suck,” he said.

I licked gingerly along the finger. It was slick and slightly salty but it was probably just me, I couldn’t taste anything else. He seemed satisfied though because he pulled out the finger and slipped the second finger in his own mouth, sucking it clean before kissing me.

The taste of me on his mouth however, that was amazing. He licked into my mouth and I reached down to push his pants off. He wasn’t wearing anything under it, I realized gleefully and he involuntarily let out a loud groan as I wrapped my fingers around his length, pumping him before lining him up with my entrance. “Hang on,” he muttered but I shook my head. “I’m on my pills, just please,” I said, pushing my hips up towards him.

He watched me do it with his jaw slack and he looked up, giving me a sharp look before thrusting unexpectedly. I let out a cry as he slid in then pulled out shallowly, and with another harder thrust nestled completely inside me.

We both still when he was fully inside, him giving me time to adjust as I tried not to squirm under him. He pressed his forehead against mine, his heavy pants washing over me as I bucked my hips into his, urging him to move. Cursing and grunting he began to pull out, stopping halfway then pushing back in, his thrusts in time with my moans as he straightened, hands holding on to my hips for leverage as he watched me climb up to my release.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, Y/N. You’ve been torturing me for so long.” He groaned, as his eyes fell shut and his breathing labored. He leaned in to place one hand over my head, the other sliding in under me to arch my body up to his. His forehead was sweaty, making the fringe of chestnut hair stick to it as my chest moved against him in time to his thrust, the new angle allowing him to brush against my sweet spot.

I could feel the tense heat coil up in my stomach again and I almost sobbed for Yoongi to not stop. I needed this. I needed Yoongi to do this.

“I won’t stop, sweetheart, come on,” he encouraged, as his own words stuttered, signaling he was close too.

“Shit, I’m going to come. Fuck, Y/N, come now.” He ordered and moved both hands so one was wrapped around my nipple, pulling at it and the other went to encircle my clit, rubbing harshly.

I don’t know if I screamed, or blacked out but one second I was on the top of the mountain and the next I was plummeting, pleasure exploding all around me, making my nerves tingle and organs to deflate with sudden exhaustion. Yoongi groaned when he felt me clench around me, his head falling on my shoulder. “You’re so tight. Fuck, I’m coming.” He let out a grunt before burying himself inside me to the hilt.

He stayed hovering over me, arms around me as we both gasped for precious air. He pulled out and rolled off me, breathing still heavy as he dragged his comforter around us.

I snuggled into the warmth as my mind gratefully gave into blissful slumber.

[kae-karo]

I'm having a hard time figuring out how to be nice/respectful and shippy/enjoy demon moments. Sometimes I wonder if analyzing DnP interactions so closely might be crossing a line. I'm not coming after anyone, I just respect you a great deal and think you'd have insight into how to have fun with shippy stuff and also respect them as people. What are your tips?

hey b! i think a lot about this honestly, like probably more than i should tbqh but here’re my thoughts (i’m enjoying the fact that this is apparently a valid contraction lmao)

first and foremost: being a demon means we inherently exist in a morally grey zone. i don’t want to stand here and say ‘oooo yeah we’re pillars of morality bc we say we’re being respectful’ like we shouldn’t ever get in the mindset that there’s nothing wrong with being demon (the term is what it is for a reason....we ain’t callin ourselves angels)

here’s the thing. and i talk a lot abt being respectful of dnp, so like. idk search ‘respect’ on my blog or smth i have lots of opinions lmao. but to me being respectfully demon means

not purposely/directly bringing relationship/shipping/etc stuff to the attention of dnp. it exists, they know it does, but it’s rude and disrespectful of us to throw it in their faces or give them them impression that all we care abt from this vid or that is ooooh dnp you were sitting so close and ooh the heart eyes dan you’re so in love with phil etc etc (examples: it’s disrespectful to ask if phan is real! esp during liveshows! or to @ mention dnp on phanart - the phan kind - that isn’t yours!)

enjoying the cute moments - so long as that’s not all we care about! i think this is where things get tougher, bc we love their relationship and we enjoy doing these little analyses (or big analyses) but we should always be checking ourselves: is the reason we’re here/posting this thing/reblogging this post primarily bc we like to overanalyze their relationship? or is it bc we enjoy their content, and looking at their relationship is a bonus? (examples: this is harder, but it’s more an internal thing and thinking abt why you loved a vid/piece of content - was it purely bc they almost touched in that one part? bc there were a lot of heart eyes?)

acknowledging that dnp aren’t stupid. they’re quite aware of the things we harp on (heart eyes, touches, innuendos, etc). within their videos and the non-live content they choose to post, i firmly believe they know when they’re including smth that might catch our attention. maybe not every time, or every thing, but some of the big stuff, and they’re choosing not to cut it out. i’m not saying this is express permission for us to pick apart every vid without care, but again, there are ways to be respectful and enjoy these moments without letting them take priority over the entire vid/content ahem trying to live my truth (examples: the pizza thing in the google feud vid! they chose to keep that in, so if we talk abt it being adorable and domestic, nothing exceptionally harmful there!)

being cognizant consumers of phanfic - dnp are well aware phanfic exists, and it’s been years since they’ve felt the need to actively address it, but that doesn’t mean we should assume they don’t care. it’s really really important to remember that phanfic is fiction. even the hcs and blurbs and stuff like that, they are not dnp. if you’ve not watched it, i highly recommend pj’s vid on fandom (x) as it hits some v good points about fandom in general and this specifically (examples: watch the vid srsly but apparently people have left him angry comments abt things he as a character did in a fanfic? it’s important and healthy to regularly go ‘yep okay that was a phanfic/hc, not reality’ and take time to ground yourself - esp with hcs, we sort of fill in the blanks from stuff we don’t know in their lives, and it’s really easy to forget that we don’t actually know)

being cognizant consumers of dnp-related content - we see funny posts cross our dash all the time, some more demon than others, and it’s important to encourage the behavior we want to see and not encourage the behavior we don’t want to see. we can police ourselves, ofc, but there will always be phans out there that take things too far, and we can have an effect on toxic or problematic behavior by not giving it the same attention we give to other more positive/respectful dnp-related content (examples: i mean i honestly just straight up unfollow people who post too much stuff like that, but really it’s just a matter of taking a second and assessing your reaction to a post and going ‘okay, is this smth that might be a bit much?’)

checking ourselves regularly - and i know this is smth i need to work on myself sometimes, as it’s very easy to get drawn down the rabbit hole on something and not realize that we might be digging too much, taking things too seriously or too far. fandom is meant to be fun, if we’re getting in an argument or too involved in discourse, it might be time to take a step back and consider whether this is something we should even be discussing, or something that we should be discussing in such detail (examples: discourse, esp about coming out or sharing a room or who tops or their behaviors with regards to a relationship together or w.e and i’m trying to minimize it on my blog - although i do want to get through everyone’s asks - bc, while i want everyone to be able to express their opinions, there are def times it goes too far and, bc we exist in a grey zone, it’s hard sometimes to realize when we’ve wandered from the light grey to the dark grey)

not taking anything too seriously - this sort of goes along with the last one but we want to enjoy being here! we love dnp, we love their vids, we love the friends we’ve made and our fave blogs, our fave writers and artists and gif-makers and edit-makers and content creators, so we shouldn’t take anything too seriously (and we should be able to tell, or be on the lookout for signs to indicate, whether a blog is posting something good-naturedly/jokingly or posting something in order to cause a stir/be disrespectful) (examples: someone makes a really dumb shitpost that we think is hilarious but is also very clearly a shitpost with no serious meaning? cool, probably not immensely harmful to reblog it. someone makes a post that seems to be seriously commenting on smth that might be a bit too private/personal or we think is taking things a bit too far? leave it alone. unfollow the person if we feel they’re going too far too often)

moral of the story here: we aren’t perfect angels, but there are ways to be mindful of what we’re doing/saying, mindful of what we’re consuming, and mindful of how we’re interacting both with dnp and with other phandom members. we should try to be cognizant and aware, ask ourselves if something might be propagating something that could be harmful to dnp in some way, and regularly ground ourselves in reality - because, at the end of the day, dnp are real people and, while it’s fun to take things out of the realm of reality for a bit, we’re fans of the real dnp and we definitely want to show that!