#what if you utterly failed and got your best friend killed and then still got rescued.

[shortfeather]

Post containing a bunch of AUs popped up in my activity so now I get to spend my work shift daydreaming about boatem spaceship rescuing tango

[edenesth]

TWTHH Bonus: The Little Lotus Blooms

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: This takes place after all of the members' spinoffs. It's probably best for you to finish everything before reading this, but it can also be read if you do not mind spoilers and have no intention of reading the spinoffs.

Fic Masterlist | Spinoff Masterlist

"Still stuck on the baby's name, I see," came the familiar voice that never failed to both irritate and amuse your husband. Seonghwa smirked, his hand still gently rubbing your tummy. "And what does that have anything to do with you?"

The dressmaker scoffed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense as he approached. "It has everything to do with me, especially since I'm clearly going to be the godfather of this little one."

You smiled, but before you could respond, the general spoke first. "In your dreams, Kim Hongjoong. You won't be this one's godfather, so it's time to let go of that fantasy. If you're so eager to be a father, I suggest you focus on having one of your own. After all, you're about to have a Mrs. of your own soon enough."

Before Hongjoong could form a coherent response, he sputtered and flailed, completely caught off guard by the mention of his upcoming wedding. His face flushed a deep crimson, and for a moment, he looked utterly lost. After what felt like an eternity, he finally managed to find his voice.

"T-that's… none of your business!" he stammered, clearly flustered. After all, it had taken him forever to gather the courage to propose to poor Miss Baek. The lengthy courtship had almost convinced the girl's family that the dressmaker had no real intention of marriage, leading to whispered doubts that he was just stringing their daughter along. He hadn't heard the end of it until the day he finally asked for her hand.

Just as he opened his mouth to shoot back a retort at Seonghwa, another voice broke into the conversation.

"About damn time, Kim!" Yunho called out, his deep laughter filling the room as he approached. The physician looked far too smug, and the gleam of amusement in his eyes only made Hongjoong's face burn brighter. The dressmaker shot him a glare.

"Don't get all cocky just because you got married slightly earlier than I did!" the older male of the two snapped, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest. "What are you even doing here?! The dinner isn't for hours."

The general and his wife shared a knowing look, unable to stifle their chuckles as the doctor raised a brow at the accusation.

"I could ask you the same," Yunho replied, unfazed. He gestured to the bags of medical supplies at his feet. "I'm here to ensure the mistress is in optimal condition before meeting everyone, of course."

Hongjoong sniffed, waving a dismissive hand before gesturing to the garments draped over his arm—a collection of beautifully embroidered hanboks. "And I'm here to ensure she looks as stunning as always. Just as important as you, Jung. Don't flatter yourself. I understand good health is essential," he added, glancing the taller man up and down pointedly. "But clearly, a complete lack of fashion sense can be just as problematic."

Yunho's eyes widened in sheer offence. "Excuse me? What do you mean, a lack of fashion sense?! My wife said I looked—"

The dressmaker lifted a hand, silencing him immediately. "Of course she did, my friend. She's your wife; she has to say that. But I'm not, so I can be brutally honest."

Yunho's mouth opened, then closed again, clearly affronted. "You—"

"Don't take it too personally," Seonghwa interjected, his smirk deepening as he rested a protective hand over your belly. "You know how he is. The moment there's even a whiff of competition, he'll immediately declare himself the best at whatever it is."

"Which is everything," Hongjoong sniffed, lifting his chin proudly.

"That's debatable," the general drawled with a pointed look.

Hongjoong's mouth opened, ready with a comeback, but the doctor raised a hand to cut him off, the irritation from earlier melting into weary acceptance. "Alright, alright, let's get back to why I'm actually here—to make sure our dear Lady Park and the baby are doing well."

The dressmaker rolled his eyes dramatically, waving Yunho off with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Fine, do your little check-up. But once you're done, it's my turn. I have real work to attend to—unlike some people who just poke needles into others all day."

Yunho sighed, dragging a hand down his face in feigned exasperation, while Seonghwa and you exchanged amused looks. They were always like this—bickering, teasing, and turning even the simplest interactions into a spectacle of humour and banter.

You smiled softly. Thinking back to when you first met them all, you never could have imagined that your husband's closest friends would become yours too, filling your life with such unexpected warmth.

Jongho sighed heavily as he stepped into the room, his gaze zeroing in on the dressmaker with a look of pure exasperation. "I swear, there can never be peace with you around. I told you to come an hour later, but you never listen—"

Hongjoong immediately raised a fist, eyes narrowing in mock indignation. "Watch your tone! I'm still older than you," he warned, but the assistant only rolled his eyes, unfazed as he reached out and unceremoniously grabbed the dressmaker by the sleeve.

"And if you don't cooperate, I'll tell Miss Baek you were being difficult again."

That instantly shut him up. The effect was almost comical—the once-feisty designer went rigid, then muttered something unintelligible under his breath before letting the younger man drag him out of the room. The rest of you couldn't hold back your laughter, chuckling at how quickly Hongjoong folded at the mere mention of his fiancée. It was a sight that never got old.

"Well," the physician grinned, shaking his head in amusement, "looks like we've finally found his weakness."

The general chuckled, his gaze lingering on the doorway where the two had vanished. "It's not just him. Look at the rest of us," he said, raising a brow knowingly.

You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle a smile as Yunho continued his check-up, his touch gentle and practised as he listened for the baby's heartbeat. He looked so different now compared to when you'd first met—less guarded, more at ease. The once-serious physician now wore a relaxed smile as he worked. Miss Ryu truly had softened him, just like Miss Kwon had done for Jongho.

Your heart swelled at the thought. Absentmindedly, you rubbed your belly, glancing up at your husband with a soft expression. "They've all changed, haven't they?" you murmured quietly.

His eyes warmed as they met yours, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. "Yes, they have. Just like I have," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. "All thanks to you."

Warmth spread through your chest, and you shifted your gaze back to Yunho, then to the door where Hongjoong and Jongho had disappeared moments before. A sense of anticipation bubbled within you as you thought of the others you'd be seeing later—San, Mingi, and Wooyoung, who had become like brothers to you, and, of course... Prince Yeosang, your dearest friend.

As you imagined future gatherings, you could already see a bustling and heartwarming scene filled with little ones running around, laughter and shouts echoing through the halls, and these men transforming into doting fathers and playful uncles.

Gosh, you could hardly wait to see it all unfold. The future seemed so bright and full of promise, and you knew, deep in your heart, that it would only get better from here.

"What's got you so deep in thought, my lady?" the dressmaker asked with a gentle smile as he carefully painted the signature flower on your forehead—the perfect final touch, as always.

You hesitated, biting your lip. "Do you think His Highness will come?"

Hongjoong scoffed lightly. "I genuinely have no idea, my lady. He seems awfully busy with his new princess," he remarked, and you nodded, a wide smile blooming on your lips.

"He is, and I'm so happy he's finally found someone."

"Then why does it matter if the prince is here?" he teased, raising an eyebrow. "Everyone already knows I'm going to be this little one's godfather anyway."

You clicked your tongue playfully, rolling your eyes. "Here we go again. I wouldn't be so confident if I were you."

He placed his hands on his hips, feigning offence. "I'm your idiot husband's oldest friend; it only makes sense that I get the title. The rest should just accept it and fall in line."

You burst into laughter, shaking your head at his stubbornness. When he finally finished, he stepped back, giving you a once-over before softening, then moved to sit across from you. "You look stunning, my lady."

"Thank you, Joong, for always reminding me of that," you said warmly. "But flattery won't get you anywhere—I've already made up my mind, and it won't be you."

He shot up from his seat, gasping dramatically. "What do you mean it won't be me?! You can't do this to me!"

Before you could respond, the doors to the House of Lotus swung open, and your husband entered. This time, however, he wasn't alone. In his arms, nestled close and bundled in delicate silks, was a little something—or rather, someone—very dear to your heart.

"That's enough, Kim Hongjoong," Seonghwa drawled, his voice tinged with mock annoyance as he stepped forward. "How greedy can you be, huh? You're already Yeonjoo's godfather. I'm not giving you the title again for our next child."

Your heart swelled at the sight—the way it always did whenever you saw your little princess cradled in her father's loving embrace. Her soft giggles filled the room as her tiny fingers curled around his sleeve, and a smile spread across your face. That's right—Hongjoong had been named godfather to your firstborn two years ago. Much to your disappointment, the prince hadn't been able to attend her birth celebration despite his promise, but you understood. He had new priorities and commitments. Still, a small part of you hoped he'd be here this time—for the sake of old memories, and perhaps to provide a sense of closure.

The dressmaker's eyes lit up, and his earlier sulkiness vanished as he nearly skipped forward, excitement radiating off him. "Oh, my little Yeonjoo!" he cooed, his face softening as he reached out to take her carefully from your husband's arms.

"Ugh, fine," he muttered, holding her close and gently stroking her hair as if she were the most delicate thing in the world. "I bet you're just trying to spare my precious Yeonjoo from getting jealous. I suppose one of those other losers can have the honour for the next one," he grumbled, pouting slightly as he gazed down at the little girl.

You chuckled softly at his dramatic tone. Titles aside, it was clear Hongjoong adored your daughter deeply. She looked up at him with wide, shining eyes and a bright smile that could melt even the sternest of hearts, and it was obvious she shared that affection. You watched, warmth flooding your chest, as she patted his cheek clumsily, babbling a string of sweet nonsense that made the man's expression melt into a delighted grin.

"See? Even she agrees," he sniffed proudly, shooting a triumphant look at Seonghwa.

The general rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, but the fondness in his gaze was unmistakable. "Just because my daughter doesn't know better yet doesn't mean I'll indulge you."

"Your appa's just being mean," Hongjoong murmured softly to Yeonjoo, his voice filled with exaggerated sympathy. The little girl giggled, her laughter bright and clear. "But don't worry, sweetheart. You'll always be godfather's number one."

You shook your head, laughter bubbling in your chest as you watched them. "Honestly, Joong, you're going to spoil her rotten."

"Going to?" Seonghwa quirked a brow, looking amused. "He already has." Then he turned his gaze to you, his eyes softening. "But I think our princess deserves to be spoiled a little, don't you?"

You smiled up at him. "Of course. Only the best for our little girl."

"Well, since I won't be the next one's godfather," Hongjoong said, feigning indifference, "who are you going to pick? Don't tell me you're actually considering one of those blockheads."

You exchanged a knowing look with your husband before turning back to the dressmaker, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Maybe. Or maybe I have someone else in mind entirely."

As if on cue, Eunsook, your head maid, appeared at the entrance and offered a respectful bow, her smile warm. Right beside her was Miss Kwon, the ever-diligent maternity expert, who immediately stepped forward, carefully guiding you to your feet.

"The guests have arrived, master and mistress," Eunsook announced softly.

Hongjoong sighed dramatically but complied, reluctantly handing Yeonjoo back to her father. "I suppose I should join the rest of those ruffians then," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the child's cheek before straightening up with a smirk. "See you out there, General and Lady Park."

With one last playful wink, the dressmaker slipped out, leaving the room with a swirl of elegant robes. Your heart fluttered in anticipation, excitement bubbling up within you. You were going to see all your friends again—the people who had become your family over the years.

As Seonghwa cradled your daughter close, his free hand reached for yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You glanced up at him, smiling softly, and he returned the look, his gaze brimming with unspoken emotions. Together, you made your way toward the hall.

"You look well, my lady. Did the medication I recommended help with your sleep disturbances?" Royal Physician Ahn asked as she approached, her voice gentle yet laced with the attentiveness of a true healer. It was the first chance she'd had to speak with you after the initial rounds of greetings exchanged. You had grown fond of her since meeting her at the royal banquet, and especially so after Mingi had begun openly courting her. Since then, she'd been a constant presence in your life, whether by her own will or by His Majesty's orders, assisting in your care both during the last birth and your current pregnancy.

You nodded warmly, squeezing her hand in return. "It did, Physician Ahn. It worked like magic. I've been sleeping like a baby lately, all thanks to you."

Her shoulders relaxed visibly, and she let out a soft sigh of relief. You couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips as you leaned closer, your tone turning mischievous. "Congratulations on your engagement, by the way. Who would have thought Officer Song had it in him to win you over, hm?"

A delicate blush painted her cheeks as she stammered, utterly flustered. But before you could tease her further, a tall shadow loomed beside her, and Mingi stepped in, a broad grin spreading across his face as he slid an arm around his fiancée's shoulders. "Now, now, Lady Park, let's not overwhelm her," he chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with affection. "You know she's still not used to all the attention."

"I'm simply complimenting your success, Officer Song," you shot back playfully. "It's not every day someone catches the interest of the Royal Physician."

Mingi's grin widened, but before he could respond, another voice interjected, stealing your attention.

"Look at you, Lady Park. It feels like just yesterday we were celebrating little Yeonjoo's birth, and now, here we are again, awaiting another mini Park. You and the general certainly don't waste time, do you?" Scholar Moon's teasing tone cut through the room as she approached, linked arm-in-arm with her husband, Royal Secretary Choi.

You felt your cheeks flame at the comment, especially when San shot his wife a chiding look and squeezed her arm as if to gently rein her in. "Darling, don't embarrass the lady," he murmured softly, though the amusement in his eyes belied his words.

You tried to sputter a reply, mortified, but before you could get a word out, a familiar warmth appeared at your side. Your husband was suddenly there, his presence solid and reassuring, a small, amused smirk playing at his lips. He looked so effortlessly charming, and it made your heart flutter just looking at him.

"Indeed, we don't waste time," he agreed smoothly, his gaze shifting playfully to Scholar Moon. "But perhaps it's time you and San hurry up and have one of your own as well, Scholar Moon."

Her mouth fell open in shock, eyes widening as she spluttered, "I—! We're not—!"

"I don't think we're quite there yet," Secretary Choi intervened gently, though his strained smile hinted at his own embarrassment. His eyes flicked between you and the general before landing back on his wife, whose face was now a bright shade of red.

Stifling a laugh, you nudged Seonghwa lightly. "Behave, Hwa," you murmured, though your grin betrayed your halfhearted scolding.

"But it's true, isn't it?" he persisted with mock innocence, raising an eyebrow. "Everyone knows San's eager to start a family. Why not make it official?" He cast the secretary's wife a pointed look, making her blush deepen to an alarming shade.

"You—!" she started, but before she could finish, a joyful peal of laughter rang out from across the room. You turned your head just in time to see Investigator Jung cradling Yeonjoo in his arms with his partner hovering close beside him with an adoring look on her face as she watched the two of them.

"Yeonjoo certainly knows how to charm everyone, doesn't she?" Miss Han remarked warmly, her gaze softening as she looked up at the little girl. "Just look at her. She's going to be quite the heartbreaker one day."

Wooyoung chuckled, gently bouncing the child and eliciting a delighted squeal from her. "With parents like these two? There's no doubt about it." He glanced over at you and Seonghwa, his playful expression turning sincere. "Congratulations again, General, Lady Park. Your family is truly blessed."

"Thank you, Wooyoung," you replied softly, watching as your daughter gurgled happily in his arms. Your gaze shifted to Miss Han, her presence calm and grounding beside him. "And I hope it's not long before we're congratulating the two of you as well."

She blushed, her eyes darting to Wooyoung, who just laughed, the sound rich and unburdened. "Perhaps soon," he murmured, a hint of promise in his voice. "But for now, let's focus on celebrating you."

It was then that you caught Miss Ryu's gaze from across the room—her smile brightening the moment your eyes met. Now officially Yunho's wife, she looked radiant as ever as she hurried over, her husband trailing behind her with a knowing grin.

"Oh, you're glowing, my lady. I'm convinced this one's a son," she said, her voice lilting with excitement.

The physician chuckled softly beside her. "She's been saying that for months now," he teased, gently squeezing her shoulder.

You shared a hopeful glance with Seonghwa before turning back to her. "Thank you. We've been hoping for a boy too," you admitted, warmth filling your chest at the thought.

Before anyone could say more, Hongjoong sauntered over, his arm loosely wrapped around his fiancée's back. "I'm sure having a son is nice and all," he scoffed lightly, "but are you positive that's why she's glowing?" His gaze turned mischievous as he leaned forward, clearly fishing for compliments.

Miss Baek's eyes widened, and she gave him a small nudge, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Joong, please…"

But the dressmaker, being himself, merely shot her a wink. He cast a playful look at the physician's wife, who raised a brow in challenge. The teasing rivalry between them was no secret, and it extended to their spouses as well.

"If you think it's your makeup skills making her glow, I'm going to have to scientifically explain to you why it's a lot more than just your artificial tools enhancing her appearance," the herbalist shot back with a laugh, her words soft yet precise. Her analytical nature was showing, and it made Yunho's smile grow wider.

Hongjoong's jaw dropped, feigning outrage. "Excuse me? Are you doubting my artistic abilities, Mrs. Jung?"

Just then, Jongho appeared, his hand linked with Miss Kwon's as they joined the growing circle. He rolled his eyes, already looking exasperated. "Please, don't start. I swear, every time you two are in the same room, it turns into a debate."

You stifled a laugh, shaking your head as you glanced around at the gathered group. Yet, despite the lively chatter and warm company, there was still a lingering sense of something—someone—missing. You found yourself scanning the room again, your heart dipping slightly as you realised that perhaps he truly wasn't coming after all. Maybe the promises of friendship had been nothing more than a polite white lie to comfort you back then. Perhaps…

"Apologies for our tardiness! It felt like the entire city decided to celebrate with us today—the crowds made it nearly impossible for our carriage to get through smoothly."

The deep, familiar voice cut through the air, and everyone's heads whipped around in unison. After a moment of stunned silence, they quickly bowed deeply, voices mingling in a respectful murmur.

"These subjects greet Your Highnesses."

Yeosang and his wife exchanged quick, flustered glances before raising their hands to stop the gesture. "Oh no, please! There's no need for such formality," the newly minted fourth princess said warmly. "We're here as friends today."

It was your first time meeting her, but her grace and kindness were immediately apparent, and you found yourself thinking how perfectly she complemented the prince. Your heart, which had felt heavy just moments ago, lightened at the sight of the couple as they stepped forward to join the circle.

The fourth prince's gaze found yours, and he flashed you a familiar, boyish grin. "I hope we haven't missed too much. Please, let the princess and me know how we can make up for our tardiness."

Your smile softened warmly. "Better late than never, Your Highnesses." You glanced at your husband, a sense of peace washing over you as he gave you a gentle, encouraging nod.

"No need to worry," you continued with a welcoming tone. "You haven't missed anything major. After all, the main event can't truly begin without the new baby's godparents present." The royal couple's eyes widened in surprise at your words, while the rest of your friends cheered.

"And you can make up for being late by accepting the role," General Park added with a teasing smile.

And that is all, folks. This is the final chapter and it officially concludes the TWTHH series. It's a bittersweet feeling to end it; it's undoubtedly one of my proudest creations, but I'm also super excited to finally be able to work on newer things!

Once again, I just want to thank each and every one of you for being with me on this journey. I hope this epilogue was decent! Perhaps some of you might not agree with who I've chosen to be little Park's godfather (but my heart wants what it wants lmfao). Y'all, let me know your thoughts! It'd be awesome if you could share a bit about how you stumbled upon this story and what you liked about it! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[fl100r]

✦𝘾𝙀𝙇𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙄𝘼𝙇 𝘼𝘿𝙈𝙄𝙍𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 ✦

||ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴋɪ ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ x ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ||

・┆✦ʚ Chapter 1 ɞ✦ ┆・

"𝙄 𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩"

"𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙒𝙝𝙮?.."

"𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩. 𝙙𝙪𝙙𝙚"

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺༻✦༺༻✦༺

Bakugou is so depressed after war shi happen so god game happen to him too, meet a gyatt goddess wow fell in love real? or cap?

{ Slowburn }

tw: Violence, rape.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣

Two days had passed since the War of Ravager's Crusade. Returning to his kingdom, Bakugou saw the ashes and broken homes of once-smiling children and families, now reduced to rotten, burned bodies beneath the rubble of their own homes. He felt a deep disappointment in himself for failing to protect his kingdom, even after promising his parents he would continue their legacy and be like his mother, the Queen of the Crimson Bones. He had lost everything he swore to uphold, and now he lay in his room, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Hopeless and unsure of what to do, the realization hit him hard: his army, his village, his kingdom, his family-they were all gone. A tear rolled down his cheek, landing on his wrinkled, rough bed. He cried quietly, his sobbing filled with regret. He longed for revenge but felt utterly useless.

Katsuki Bakugou, the Crimson Warrior, was supposed to win this war, but instead, he had lost the souls of those who loved and admired him. He had managed to kill the leader of the Crab Clan without magic, which was impressive enough on its own.

Wait... magic. Magic had been forbidden in his kingdom. His mother had outlawed it, believing that no one should rely on the "easy way out to victory." She felt that those who used raw strength alone were worthy of respect and honor, with the sole exception of healing magic, which was revered for its usefulness.

But now... maybe he could use magic to bring some of his people back. The bodies weren't too far gone yet. Dark magic could be the key.

Bakugou quickly rushed to his library, searching frantically for dark magic spells.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧Meanwhile... At The Abyssal Sanctum (Y/N's Realm).. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ . ⋅ ˚̣- : .

"Y/N, you've got to stop your people from using your magic to revive the dead! Ugh! People in heaven are starting to disappear. We don't want our world to overpopulate!" An angelic but rough voice shouted angrily. It was Azariel.

"Erm... you're overreacting, dude. It's just a couple of people. It's not like a billion people got revived," you replied, unbothered by Azariel's concern and his constant ranting about the "overpopulation theory."

"My point still stands! Oh, Great Heavens, you infuriate me! Please get rid of the spell, since you and your family invented dark magic! YOUR MAGIC IS SINFUL AND EVIL!" he yelled, stomping away angrily, clearly annoyed by your stubbornness, and slammed your enchanted, huge doors behind him.

"It's just reviving, though. What harm does reviving someone cause? And sinful and evil? Alright, buddy, my magic doesn't have morality... it just is what it is," you muttered, feeling annoyed. He kept complaining about people showing up in heaven almost every day, which was apparently tiring for him. Then, when people used your magic to bring loved ones back, he complained about that too? It didn't make any sense.

While you were deep in thought, your doors suddenly burst open. Your best friend came rushing in, beaming with excitement.

"Oh~ HERE COMES THE GODDESS OF LOVE! WORSHIP ME, AND THERE'S A 50/50 CHANCE YOU WON'T DIE ALONE! Heheh! Y/N! GUESS WHO'S GONNA BE THE HOST OF THIS YEAR'S 500TH ANNIVERSARY GAME!" Koemi cheered, her happiness radiating.

"It's you. I know," you replied, unamused.

"Oh..." Koemi's tone dropped, sounding disappointed by your flat response.

"You could've maybe pretended.. To not know.. Jeez you always like this even when we were mortals." Koemi said annoyed.

"What? I'm stating something that I think is correct based on your reaction Dumbass."

"Okay.. Okay anyway you already know I'm gonna be the one who host this game event, so I've been thinking maybe we can bring the mortals into our little game. Can you guess why?.." Koemi said excitedly.

"We're gonna invite them to tea or something?..." Y/N said, still unimpressed.

Koemi huffed in annoyance. "You've known me since diapers in the mortal world. Jeez, it's like I'm a character introduced in your story mode, but the most forgotten character ever... Anyway, no. I have an idea! So, we do this game event where we pick our mortals-without looking into their past or future-and then make them fight for a single wish! A wish that can grant anything! Like, really anything! They can even join us as a god! What do you think?" Koemi asked, excitement bubbling in her voice. She eagerly awaited Y/N's opinion, even though deep down, she expected something simple-yet sharp-that would probably hurt her feelings.

"Okay that's good." That's it? You fucking piece of shit koemi said in her mind. Well it's fine anyway she's your best friend and she acts like this its fine! Koemi said in her mind, rambling about Y/N and her friendship, lost in her thoughts now.

"Soo.. When will the games begin? Since were gonna pick our own mortals whats the rules? We can pick any mortals right? So some of the gods can just pick someone who' better than everyone else and win the final fight"

Y/N said questioning Koemi ideas if she got a planned for those will use this advantage to just win unfairly in the event.

"Well here are rules of course!" As Koemi make a contract appear out of thin air with her magic,

(If you can't read it)

Welcome to an intense and fiery competition where mortals are subjected to extreme conditions and trials. Selected by the gods, these mortals, driven by lofty ambitions and desires for greatness, will face a crucible of challenges designed to test their determination and resourcefulness. The gods watch from their celestial thrones, relishing the spectacle as these chosen mortals confront their destinies. The gods and goddesses who participate in this grand event shall be rewarded handsomely for their involvement.

Rules and Regulations:

No Handpicking Mortals: Deities are strictly prohibited from personally selecting mortals for participation. The selection process must be predicated upon a divine trait or power inherent to the gods, ensuring that mortals are chosen based on their intrinsic qualities or motivations aligned with the deity's domain.

No Assistance Beyond Emotional Support:Gods are forbidden from utilizing their divine powers to aid mortals directly or indirectly. Any form of intervention, be it through supernatural influence, guidance, or manipulation, is prohibited. Only emotional support, such as encouragement or moral fortitude, is permitted.

No Manipulation of Mortal Trials: The divine entities must refrain from altering or manipulating the trials and challenges faced by the mortals. The integrity of the competition must remain unblemished, with each trial designed to test the mortals' innate qualities without divine interference.

No Breach of Confidentiality: The gods must maintain absolute confidentiality regarding any internal deliberations or decisions pertaining to the selection and challenges faced by the mortals. Any unauthorized disclosure of such information to the participants or external entities is strictly forbidden.

Punishment for Breach of Rules: Gods or goddesses who violate these rules shall be subjected to the most severe of divine punishments. The offending deity will be exiled from their divine realm and cast into a void of endless darkness, where they shall experience the profound isolation and despair of being cut off from divine powers and companionship.

-Koemi Ramírez.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚.

"bravo.. The goddess of Love and Lust actually thinks for once!"

Koemi's face expresses just 😐. "Sorry. I know you're not the goddess of lust only love.. Just a joke.. Anyway let me see the contract.." Y/N said as she reads it. "Make sure to signed it if you want to join the game!" Koemi said.

"Alright that looks good, I signed it. Did you already have other gods signed it?" Y/N asked

"I did just now-almost all of them have signed it!" Koemi said enthusiastically. "Anyway, I've got to find my mortal! Good wishes and love to you, my dear friend! You won't die alone-"

Before she could finish, Y/N snapped her fingers, and Koemi vanished from the realm with a soft pop.

Y/N let out a sigh, shaking their head with a wry smile. "Good luck with that, Koemi." She muttered to the empty space left behind, the air still crackling with the remnants of the goddess's departure.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . Meanwhile... Katsuki Bakugou. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒

"Fuck... I can't find anything in this damn library. I want my people back..." Bakugou muttered as he stood up, the chair creaking as it was pushed by his back. He walked through the empty hallways of what was once a lively and grand castle. Now, it lay in ruins, with rubble scattered around and burned curtains and carpets.

"Goddamn it... Why couldn't I just... protect them? They played dirty with me. I've searched through every book, but not one is related to dark magic..." Bakugou sighed, his eyebrows furrowing deeper, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness.

He stopped in front of a large mirror in the long, desolate hallway, gazing at the scars and burn marks that littered his body. He stared at his reflection, seeing someone tired and stressed-every word in the definition of exhaustion and depression. Once a great king, now... someone entirely useless.

"I should leave this place... The food here is stale. I can't survive another day without eating properly." Bakugou packed quickly, determined to leave the place he once called home, vowing not to return until he could restore honor and bring back the souls and bodies of his people.

As he ventured deeper into the woods, he heard a rustle in the bushes behind him. He gripped his axe, ready for anything, but kept walking forward.

"WAH! GIVE ME YOUR MONEY!" A creature with purple balls for a head leapt out at him. Bakugou swung his axe, purposely missing, the blade landing beside the creature.

"OH SHIT!-YOU! OUH MY GAWD-Y-Y-YOUR MAJESTY! UH, UH... SORRY! I THOUGHT YOU WERE THAT HOMELESS MAN WHO STOLE MY SILVER COINS, SIR!" The creature immediately dropped to his knees and bowed before Bakugou.

"Tch..." Bakugou scoffed, placing his axe back on his shoulder as he continued his journey.

"Mineta, buddy! You done yet? Did you kill that homeless man? It's getting dark-Oh! Hey, stranger. Did my buddy scare ya? Sorry, dude!" A yellow-haired man walked into the scene just as Bakugou was about to head toward the nearby town, which seemed to be having a festival.

Bakugou walked past the two boys toward the town. As he entered through the open gates, he noticed people celebrating. Decorations hung from house to house, and in the middle of the town stood a statue of someone, though Bakugou couldn't really see it due to the crowd. He made his way around the large crowd and headed for the food area.

"Ah! Hello, young man! Would you like to buy some bread? I've got all types-never old, only fresh!" the bread seller joyfully exclaimed.

Bakugou remained quiet as he picked a freshly baked loaf.

"Young man, I'm guessing you're not from around here, hmm?" the man asked.

Bakugou nodded. "What are you people celebrating?" he asked, his tone curious but still rough.

"Ah! We're celebrating our goddess, Koemi Ramírez.-the goddess of love. She lived in this town 500 years ago, but she left on a journey to gain more power and to help the people here. That's all I know... If you want to kno-"

Bakugou left, placing a block of gold on the man's counter before he could finish. He moved on to another food stall, buying more food. He didn't know exactly where he was heading after leaving, but his goal remained clear: to find a dark magic user or learn dark magic himself.

"Hey, well if it isn't the Goated Man! Hey, uh... can I get some bread?" the yellow-haired man asked, but was immediately cut off.

"Denki, you didn't help with the festival decorations, or anything really... No aid, no gain for you. Wait... is that how the kids say it these days? Hm... Anyway, no, get outta here," the bread seller replied.

"Can you at least tell me who that was? I bumped into him once near the woods after Mineta lost his coins because of a homeless man. He looks pretty tough! Is he a royal?" Denki asked.

"No idea, well just ask him. Anyway, move along, you rogue thief. Heh!" the bread seller laughed.

Denki rolled his eyes playfully and followed the man with ash-blonde hair.

"Hey! Your Majesty!" Bakugou ignored the sudden yelling behind him-on purpose.

"Can't you hear me?! Hey!!..." The footsteps grew closer. "Hey, Your Majesty! Hehe, sorry for interrupting your shopping, but can you please help-wait, hey man! Stop walking past me! Okay! Wait, I have something you're looking for!"

Bakugou stopped in his tracks and looked back at the yellow-haired man. The man pulled out a medium-sized diamond.

"Isn't this yours? Hmm?" the man said.

Bakugou glanced at the diamond, then back at the man's eyes. "Yeah. Get lost."

The man was shocked. He had stolen a precious, medium-sized diamond from him, and those things were very valuable-at least to people like him.

"Please, I'm Denki Kaminari, the Rogue of this town! You can trust me! Tell me what you want! I really need your help!" Denki pleaded with Bakugou.

"Ugh. Find me a dark magic user, or give me a book with dark magic spells."

Denki was stunned. Dark magic... It was ancient and illegal in many towns, cities, and kingdoms. He couldn't find something like that.

"...uh... Hm, I can't find you a dark magic book, but-"

"Ugh, of course..." Bakugou scoffed.

"B-but! I can lead you to someone who knows more about magic. Maybe there's a chance they have a dark magic book or know a user!"

Bakugou glanced at the dunce-faced man.

"Just help me with something... And I'll lead you to the person! Deal?" Offering a hand to Katsuki, Bakugou hesitated. "Fine.. what is it? as they both shook hands.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟMeanwhile... At The Sanctum of Eternity｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

"Azariel, did you find your mortal yet?" Y/N asked.

"Why do you care? Since you don't care about the mortal world..." Azariel replied, a touch of annoyance in his voice.

Y/N rolled her eyes but then smirked. "Yeah, you're right, dude. I don't really care about the mortal world, even when we were mortals ourselves," Y/N said playfully, trying to annoy Azariel on purpose. Even though she was a goddess, being immortal could get pretty boring fast.

"Sigh... Did you find yours yet?" Azariel asked, referring to Y/N's own mortal puppet.

"Found what?"

"I-no, I hate you. You know exactly what I'm referring to, Y/N," he responded, filled with annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah, no. Not yet at least... I thought there'd be more people using dark magic who are worthy of my attention."

"What about the people who worship you?" Azariel asked.

Y/N stared at him as if he had offered his own beating heart on a plate. Y/N might as well have eaten it.

"Hell no. I don't want more people worshipping me," Y/N said.

Azariel looked shockingly confused. "Wait, what? I thought you-"

"What? You think my family and I invented so many dark spells and stuff because we love being worshipped? That's just racist to us creatures. Plus, some of us actually want to die-some of us are pretty much suicidal," Y/N said.

A portal suddenly appeared in the realm, and animals began to come through: bunnies and deer. Following them was a beautiful woman who emerged from the portal, reminiscent of Snow White but dressed in a more provocative outfit.

"Great entrance, Yui," Y/N said, recognizing the newcomer as Yui, the Goddess of All Animals and Creatures.

"Now that I think about it, why do gods need such sexualized clothes? Even you, Azariel-aren't you supposed to be holy? Why are you wearing a tight-ass corset?" Y/N teased.

"Okay, I-" Azariel started to respond but was cut off.

"Yeah, Azariel, why do you have that? But I have to say, you look stunning in it!" Yui chimed in, her voice gentle.

"Oh, thank you, so I-" Azariel began, but was interrupted by a loud sound coming from another portal. This one was pitch black, almost like Y/N's portals but with a more ominously emo ahh.

"Is the meeting starting yet? I want to go back to sleep," said Death, Y/N's older cousin.

"Hey, Damien, you look edgier than me as always. The meeting hasn't started yet-" Y/N began, but before they could finish, a bunch of portals appeared, each a different color and type of magic. Gods and goddesses began to come through, and the ground of the sanctum shook. Thrones emerged from the ground, forming a circle around a table made of gold, jewels, and crystals.

"Alright! Hello everyone, welcome! Welcome to the Gods' Contest of Valor! You may all sit down on your thrones, of course! I am Koemi Ramí-"

"BOOO! WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" a voice interrupted loudly. Sounds like Y/N.

Koemi sighed and continued, "Alright, alright, settle down. As I was saying, I am Koemi Ramírez, the Goddess of Love, and I will be hosting this grand event. We are here to select mortals who will compete for a single wish, one that can grant anything they desire, even the chance to join us as gods."

Another god shouted, "Get on with it! We don't have all day!"

Koemi smiled through her irritation. "Very well. The rules are simple: each of us will select a mortal from the pool of candidates. We won't look into their pasts or futures. The mortals will then face trials designed to test their strength, cunning, and resolve. The one who emerges victorious will earn the grand wish."

A goddess in a shimmering blue gown raised her hand. "Are there any restrictions on what the wish can be?"

Koemi nodded. "No restrictions. Anything goes. The only limit is their imagination. Now, I know everyone here has already selected their mortals-except Y/N!"

Y/N glared at Koemi, who smiled triumphantly, clearly enjoying embarrassing Y/N. "Okay, tomorrow we'll mark our mortals with a gem placed on their chest, close to their heart. It'll be implanted there and visible to other mortals in the competition. Of course, if they're wearing clothes, you won't see it. So, Y/N~ pick your mortal faster or you might get disqualified~ :3"

Y/N groaned and rolled their eyes at Koemi, visibly annoyed. "That's all, folks! Thank you so much-"

Before Koemi could finish, the gods began to disappear in clouds of enchanted colored smoke, leaving behind their magical residue. "Ugh... so disrespectful..." Koemi muttered as she, too, began to depart, leaving only Y/N behind.

"Fuck... I can't seem to find anyone who's good at dark magic, except for my family who's still alive, but I'm too stubborn to support them. Well, it's not mandatory for the mortal to have dark magic as their power; it can be their tendency. Sigh... I really need a strong candidate for this event. I keep losing to the others in past events..."

"Meow~ You gonna pull a Disney Wish song out of your ass?" Y/N's cat, perched atop the throne, meowed.

"What the-dawg, where have you been? And hell no, you know I wouldn't," Y/N replied.

The cat jumped down into Y/N's lap and settled in, purring contentedly. "How long have you been here?" Y/N asked, petting the kitty.

"Purr~ purr~ Hm, since the meeting started," the cat replied. Y/N petted the kitty more roughly, pulling back its fur and causing it to look mildly annoyed.

(Example cuz why not)

"You fucking rascal, I've missed you, buddy. You haven't been visiting me in my realm, always going into the mortal world," Y/N said, clearly annoyed.

"Just find me then! Jeez, woman... I've heard you've been-struggling to find a mortal. STOP PULLING BACK MY FACE, LADY-" the cat protested as Y/N continued to pet him, pulling back his fur. "Ehehe- it looks funny, Anyway what did you say?" Y/N asked "I marked some mortals I found, i think they might be worthy for you" "AWH you FUCKING JUST AGHHH!!"

"STOP PULLING BACK MY FURRR!!!!!" the cat yowled.

Y/N stopped petting him and giggled. "Alright, tell me the ones you marked."

The kitty barfed up a tiny crystal ball onto Y/N's hand and Y/N of course gagged a lil. "Here, just watch them and pick who's worthy!" he said.

As the tiny crystal ball began to shine, it summoned a mirror, revealing on the glass the mortals the kitty had marked.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . Meanwhile... Katsuki Bakugou. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒

In an abandoned church, Kaminari said, "Whew-kinda spooky, heh!"

Bakugou rolled his eyes as he scanned the surroundings. Kaminari had mentioned that a buddy of his got lost in the church basement, and when Kaminari was close to finding him, he heard a scream and ran like a coward. So, Bakugou was helping him find his friend.

"So chilly... uhh, right this way! Erm..." Kaminari said, leading Bakugou into the darkness. The only source of light they had was Bakugou's lighter.

"Okay, where the fuck is your rascal? My lighter is running out. Why were you he-" Bakugou started to ask, but before he could finish, someone placed a piece of cloth over his mouth from behind. Kaminari watched with a look of regret in his eyes.

Bakugou struggled and managed to knock the person behind him with his elbow he tried to punch kaminari, but the cloth had some chemicals on it, making Bakugou dizzy. He eventually passed out.

"Ugh... What the fuck." Bakugou looked around. He was chained to a wall, his wrists cuffed. He remembered how Kaminari hadn't helped him and had watched him pass out. Without any of his belongings, Bakugou cursed his decision to team up with the rogue.

The room was cold and bleak, with hard concrete and bricked walls. A set of stairs led up to a closed hatch with a lock. "Urgh... ugh..." Bakugou grunted as he tried his best to break free from the metal cuffs. After a struggle, he managed to get them off and rubbed his wrists.

Bakugou climbed the stairs and, using his strength, managed to force open the hatch. The crimson warrior had no trouble with a simple wooden barrier. As he opened the hatch and climbed up, he was confronted with a horrifying scene.

People were caged up-some of the women were helpless and naked, while some of the men had bruises and cuts on their bodies. Bakugou's concern grew as he walked up to one of the cages. He examined a woman who was curled up facing the wall, seemingly lifeless. As he inspected her, he noticed that her private parts had been brutally torn apart. The woman had an umbilical cord leading up to her arms, indicating a baby had been born, but both the baby and the woman were long gone.

Bakugou's heart raced. What the hell was going on in this place? He needed to find out and put a stop to whatever horrific activities were happening here. Can't believe he made a deal with a person maybe responsible for these people.

The room was filled with caged individuals, and Bakugou noticed a set of stairs in the middle of the room. He was about to ascend them when he heard footsteps. Quickly, he hid at the bottom of the stairs.

A pair of red boots began descending the wooden steps. "Ehe... Denki, thank you so much for tricking THE Crimson Warrior! Haha! I can't believe he fell for your obvious act!" said a man with black hair, an almost shaved beard, green eyes, and a golden coat. To Bakugou's shock, the man was wearing his red cape, a gift from his mother when he was a child.

"Eheh... Yeah..." Denki replied, his tone nervous and regretful.

"What's wrong, kid? You got half of what we earned-aren't you grateful?" the man in the golden coat said.

"What? No, no, sir Gardinier! I-I just... can you please- I-just..." Kaminari stammered, clearly unsure of how to voice his concerns, knowing that Sir Gardinier is a powerful man.

"Spit it out," Gardinier's tone grew ominous.

"Can we bury the people who got caged up in here? I just... I want to pay respect to them. I know they didn't pay their debt on time, but please-" Kaminari's voice quivered, revealing his inner turmoil.

Gardinier's expression darkened, and he stared at Kaminari with cold eyes. "Bury them? They were criminals. They had their chance. They chose their fate."

Kaminari looked down, unable to meet Gardinier's gaze. "I understand, sir. I just... feel it's the right thing to do."

Bakugou, still hidden, clenched his fists. He knew he needed to act quickly. Gardinier and Kaminari's conversation had revealed the depth of their cruelty and the true nature of their scheme. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, Bakugou planned to intervene and put a stop to their vile activities.

"Check on the crimson guy. I don't want to speak of this again," Gardinier ordered.

Kaminari, squeezing his way through the cramped space of the cages, approached the hatch with a look of horror on his face as he saw the lifeless forms of the people inside. He was shocked to see Bakugou had broken free.

"Denki! What's taking you so long? Open the hatch, I'm not hearing a cree-AGH! WHAT?! ERGH!" Gardinier's voice turned to panic as Bakugou pinned him down onto the hard wooden floor.

"ERUGH! You bastard! Get off me!" Gardinier yelled, struggling as Bakugou punched and pushed him onto the floor.

"SOLDIERS! HELP! URGH!" Gardinier shouted in desperation, but before he could call for help, he felt a sharp pain.

In a sudden twist of fate, Denki appeared, his hands gripping a bloodied sword. With a grim expression, he swung the sword with precision. Gardinier's head rolled onto the floor, his body collapsing as blood pooled around him. The crimson warrior's fierce struggle had come to an end, and Denki, though visibly distressed, stood over the fallen villain, having taken a dark step to ensure justice was served.

"Why... why did you help me?" Bakugou asked, his crimson eyes still burning with anger.

"I... I just wanted to help. I-" Kaminari began, but his voice faltered under the weight of his guilt and fear.

"SIR GARDINIER! WHERE ARE YOU? SIR!" A voice called out urgently from outside the room.

Bakugou's eyes narrowed as he glanced toward the sound. "We don't have much time. If more of them come, we'll be in serious trouble. Why did you really help me? What's your angle?"

Kaminari, visibly shaken, took a deep breath. "I... I couldn't stand what was happening here. I knew I made a mistake helping Gardinier, and I wanted to fix it. I just... I wanted to make things right, even if it meant risking my own life."

Bakugou's expression softened slightly, though his anger remained. "Well, you've got a lot to make up for. But right now, we need to get out of here before more of them show up. Can you help me free these people?"

Kaminari nodded, his resolve firm despite the fear. "Yes. Let's get them out of here."

Together, they moved swiftly to unlock the cages, working to free the imprisoned individuals as quickly as possible. The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, heightening their urgency to escape and ensure the safety of those they had rescued.

As Bakugou and Kaminari worked to free the captives, the distant sound of heavy, booted footsteps grew louder.

"Move faster!" Bakugou barked, his fingers working furiously to unlock the last of the cages. The freed captives, though disoriented, began to escape towards the exit.

The heavy door to the room crashed open, and a squad of armored soldiers stormed in, their weapons ready. Bakugou's eyes blazed with a fierce intensity.

"Looks like we've got company," he growled, grabbing a heavy iron bar from the corner. Kaminari, his sword stained with blood, braced himself.

The soldiers charged, but Bakugou met them head-on with a brutal ferocity. He swung the iron bar with bone-crushing force, his blows landing with sickening thuds. The first wave of soldiers fell, their armor caved in and their bodies crumpled under his relentless assault.

"Come on, then! I'm not done with you!" Bakugou roared, his voice a harsh growl as he smashed another soldier's helmet into his skull. Blood and metal flew, and the floor became slick with gore.

Kaminari, though still rattled, fought alongside Bakugou with a grim determination. He swung his sword in wide, lethal arcs, slicing through armor and flesh with ruthless efficiency. Each strike was precise, severing limbs and opening gaping wounds.

The soldiers fought back with desperation, but Bakugou's rage was unstoppable. He swung the iron bar like a battering ram, crushing ribs and splintering bones. His attacks were unrelenting, each swing a brutal testament to his fury.

"Stay out of my way!" Bakugou shouted, deflecting a soldier's strike with a violent twist of the bar, sending the soldier sprawling. He grabbed another soldier by the throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him against the wall with a sickening crunch.

Kaminari, his face set in a mask of grim resolve, slashed through the soldiers with cold precision. He drove his sword into the chest of one soldier, twisting it before yanking it out and moving to the next target. His blade was a blur of deadly steel, cutting through the enemy ranks.

The soldiers, overwhelmed by the brutal onslaught, began to falter. Their numbers dwindled as Bakugou and Kaminari pressed their attack. The room was filled with the sounds of violence-metal clashing, screams of agony, and the heavy, thudding blows of Bakugou's iron bar.

One soldier, seeing the carnage and realizing the battle was lost, attempted to flee. Bakugou, with a feral snarl, intercepted him. He hurled the iron bar with deadly accuracy, pinning the soldier to the wall with a sickening thud. The soldier gasped, struggling weakly as Bakugou approached, his eyes cold and merciless.

"You think you can run from me?" Bakugou growled, delivering a final, crushing blow with his fist that ended the soldier's suffering.

Breathing heavily, Bakugou surveyed the aftermath of the battle, the room littered with fallen soldiers and the splattered remains of the once-proud soldiers. He turned to Kaminari, his expression hard but focused.

"Is everyone out? We need to get moving before more show up."

Kaminari, his face smeared with sweat and blood, nodded vigorously. "They're all free. Let's go!"

With a final, contemptuous look at the carnage, Bakugou and Kaminari led the way, guiding the freed prisoners towards the exit. The distant echoes of men of Gardinier and the harsh sounds of their escape faded behind them as they made their way out of the hellish scene.

Bakugou and Kaminari sprinted through the dense forest, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across the underbrush. The night was still, except for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, the adrenaline of the battle still coursing through their veins.

"Keep moving!" Bakugou barked, his voice barely audible over the sounds of their pounding footsteps. The forest was dense and twisted, with gnarled trees reaching out like skeletal fingers. Branches snagged at their clothes, and the undergrowth crunched underfoot.

Kaminari glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide with fear. "Are we clear? Did they follow us?"

"We're far enough away now. Wait... damn it, my stuff," Bakugou said, frustration clear in his voice.

"Oh right... your stuff is-wait, it's with me!" Kaminari said, seemingly nonchalant. Bakugou looked at him, confused, since Kaminari was only carrying a decently large shoulder bag, not a backpack.

Kaminari suddenly pulled out Bakugou's big axe from the bag. Bakugou's eyes widened in shock. "WHAT THE-"

Kaminari grinned, his nervousness barely concealed. "Here! It's from my-just kidding! I didn't actually put it there. I really did grab it before we left."

Bakugou, still stunned, reached for the axe but hesitated as Kaminari's joke sank in. "Seriously, don't mess around like that. We were almost killed back there. I needed this axe!"

Kaminari's smile faltered. "Sorry, man. I didn't mean to add to the stress. I thought it'd be funny, but I see now it wasn't the right time."

Bakugou grabbed the axe, his irritation evident. "Just don't pull crap like that again. We're lucky to be alive.. How'd you pull my axe from that tiny bag?!..."

Kaminari shifted uncomfortably, but tell Bakugou The reason, "So, uh... I'm one of the chosen mortals. By the Goddess of the Stars and Cosmic Guidance. She enchanted my bag, but she didn't tell me what it was for. I figured out that it has infinite storage. I wasn't sure how it worked at first, and I didn't want to bring it up until I was sure I can trust you. I thought it might be useful in a pinch. I just didn't expect it to be this useful."

Bakugou glared at Kaminari, his eyes cold and unforgiving. Kaminari's face was a mix of regret and relief. As Kaminari opened his mouth to speak, Bakugou cut him off.

"I still don't trust you. I don't forgive you for what you've done," Bakugou said, his voice sharp.

Kaminari's head hung low, guilt evident in his posture. "I understand," he mumbled.

"But if you want to keep breathing," Bakugou continued, his tone low and dangerous, "tell me where that person is who knows about dark magic. And give me the rest of my stuff from your infinite bag. Maybe then, I won't kill you right here."

Kaminari nodded quickly, scrambling to retrieve Bakugou's belongings from the enchanted bag. "I-I'll tell you everything I know. I'll lead you to the person Like I promise!" Bakugou took the items from Kaminari, his expression hard. "Lead the way," he said, not bothering to hide the hostility in his voice. "And if you try anything funny, I won't hesitate." Kaminari swallowed hard, nodding vigorously. "Understood. I'll take you there. Just please, let's move before we draw any more attention." as they walked Kaminari leading the Way, Towards the Mysticland of Scales Where dragons is very uncommon there.

Thank you! ❤

Chapter 2 , Chapter 3

[tomatoluvr69]

Brief check in re: Helene. TLDR I’m alive but my world has been upended and I’ll be off this website for awhile, even if I wanted to we barely have communications in our flood ravaged city. Don’t read this if you have any sort of disaster trauma I guess, I probably should’ve kept this shorter but it kind of got away from me. I may delete/edit later but I don’t really have the capacity for self censorship At the moment, i guess it was good for me to get some of it out stream of consciousness style? Lol idk guess I’m just using my blog as a blog. Anyways I lived bitch

Hi guys, thanks to the couple people who messaged me checking if I was ok, I don’t really have capacity or time to reply to them all, but I’m doing ok all things considered. Basically I live in Western North Carolina and our city has been utterly shattered by flooding after Hurricane Helene. We made it safely to Durham but we are going back tonight with a car full of mutual aid supplies like childrens medicine and chainsaw fuel and cooking oil. I don’t really have the words to describe what I’ve been going through, being cut off from all communications and information for days and have no way to reach your loved ones, to walk through a friend’s house to try to reach their water and food stash and look up at the tree in the ceiling, to stand on a railroad bridge and look down at an entire neighborhood swept away, to know that your family back home hasn’t heard from you in four days and has no way to know if you’re dead. Five people with one degree of separation to me drowned in flash floods, including two children. A college friend had his entire home swept down the river. It’s just all so uncertain. I cry at nothing. Wandering around unscathed Durham and watching people mow their lawns and go to brunch has been a surreal dream and I can’t believe I am going back. But we got some clean underwear, our first shower, and I even got my favorite taqueria order, a torta de lengua and Jesus Christ you can’t imagine how good that tasted

We’ve been without power for 10 days and the water is likely to be out for weeks, the groundwater people are using to drink and bathe may be contaminated by chemicals from manufacturing plants and you just have no way of knowing, and because the city’s water and septic systems were obliterated there is going to be untold amounts of human waste and waste-borne diseases threatening public health, we just don’t know yet. My brain and body have been wracked by it all, there are times when I am somewhere safe and feel mentally calm but note with this weird sense of detachment that my body is trembling. It’s just indescribable to have your city be unrecognizable and underwater, I’m really shaken. Before we got some texting capacity back, if your roommate just failed to come home one night, you had no way to know that she wasn’t killed out there. We will be without drinking water for weeks when all this is over but that’s peanuts compared to the cars you pass by with the search and rescue symbol for “we found a body here” painted on them.

All of which is just to say I’m alive but things are still very bad and I’ll be without reliable communication for the foreseeable future, not to mention no water, and so obviously I’ll be off here awhile. I’ll be back soon enough complaining about mundane inconveniences but frankly it’s difficult to even talk to anyone outside of Helene’s destruction, I’m going to be reeling for a long time. Don’t reblog this because I won’t have the capacity to monitor this post but I guess donate to the Asheville Survival Project if you have the inclination, that’s a way for people like me who are relatively unscathed to get direct needs like formula, insulin, underwear, and shelf stable goods directly into people’s hands who fared worse, without jumping through the impossible hoops of things like FEMA. But I’ll probably be stepping back from mutual aid stuff to support my best friend who is now responsible for arranging the burials of a family of four, including his friend/coworker and her two boys, whose upcoming wedding he was going to will now be their combined funeral date. It’s really insane out here and leaving the stability of Durham with its electricity, grocery stores, toilets, and internet is honestly a bit devastating. But weirdly it will also be a relief to be back in a place where the grimness in your heart is not at odds with your surroundings and you talk to people without preface, with dirty hair and dirty clothes and break down in tears in any given conversation with a stranger, if that makes sense? I also can’t really imagine evacuating cause that’d be incredibly jarring in a different way. It’s so hard to explain. I’m so irritable and angry and numb all the time. I’m yelling at the person who loves me most in the world, so many of the emotional issues I had before this exploded to a boiling point in shocking and unpredictable ways. I go around floating in a daze.

But I’m very, very lucky to be alive and none of my loved ones killed, I just don’t really know what the next few weeks will hold and if, like, cholera is gonna break out, or people I know will die of things like food allergies because they can’t get a new epipen. There’s absolutely no way to convey what this survivor’s guilt is like, of having survived through sheer random luck of the draw. And the things I have seen with my own eyes will never leave me, and the gruesome phone calls I sat with my friend as he received, with the trauma unfolding in waves as the family’s bodies were identified one by one, and all the graphic details we absorbed of the eyewitness account of their panicked attempts to escape the floodwaters before they were swept to TN. I did not witness it but I cannot shake it. I can’t go more than a few minutes before the phrases ring through my head again. And I work at a school and I have no way of finding out if all my students survived, because they are children without their own contact info, until the school is able to contact me with any deaths. That uncertainty is weighing tremendously on my shoulders right now and I can’t believe I’m sitting in a cafe and I still don’t know the extent of the death toll or if the kids I’ve known and worked with every day for so long we’re able to escape their homes.

I guess just keep Western NC in your thoughts, the devastation is going to take years to crawl back from, but also keep paying attention to Gaza, the trauma and devastation there is so much more unimaginable and this has given me a new perspective on what it’s like to watch from afar as people continue their lives while yours is unrecognizable. Idk how much longer I’m gonna have the capacity for mutual aid stuff here but I’m going to try. I may yet decide to evac, but you must understand this is my home and my community, and I want to be here to support my closest friend through this unimaginable loss, and the fact that he is responsible for arranging all four of their burials. Unless the city orders non essential personnel to leave then I will probably stay.

And there are of course moments of levity and fun, especially before we found out about the people, like breaking into a NC state extension agricultural experiment field and stealing some veggies off the vine, or cooking up big giant feasts of whatever we could save from the fridge.

I’ll check back in when I can and if any of you guys also live in southern Appalachia and need to be put in touch with aid I’ll check my DMs here when I can, we can get people out to you with whatever you need. But yeah just keep us in your thoughts I guess, things are still really bad. I’m going back to shop for more mutual aid stuff but then we’re leaving again but I’ll check in when the internet’s back I suppose

Eat a nice hot meal for me, don’t take ice cubes or your shower for granted, and watch something pretentious. xoxoxoxoxox ur favorite natural disaster survivor, tomato lover sixty nine

[pilot-boi]

Could we see Jaune choosing not to be Jaune Arc anymore and just become the knight? Please, with extra suffering and angst on top?

((Okay, but remember you asked for this. Fair warning, this got WAY longer than I was intending, but that’s what happens when you write at AM))

Nothing here makes sense. Mice and raccoons can talk. A tiny prince has a castle full of card and chess people. And no matter how much he walks towards the tree, Jaune can’t seem to get any closer to it.

It’s like that story his mom used to read him and his sisters, The Girl Who Fell Through The World. He can’t remember all the details of it, but the ones he can are eerily similar to his current circumstances. Talking raccoon and all.

He remembers a Knight, and wanting to be just like them when he grew up. He remembers the main character being utterly alone. And he remembers that she got out of there through the tree.

So that’s where he’s going. As much as all the evidence has shown that Remnant is better off without Jaune Arc, he can’t do that to Ren and Nora. It just wouldn’t be right.

Although as of late he’s not the best judge of what’s the right thing to do.

His sword is heavy at his side. Multicolored maple leaves blow past him. Every where he looks there’s another reminder of his failures.

Pyrrha dead because he wasn’t strong enough, Penny dead because he wasn’t fast enough. Too weak to help, too weak to heal. The portal closed and he failed Ren and Nora again by not making it back to them.

And then he fell.

He couldn’t even die right.

Jaune wanders listlessly among blue shaded trees, passing neon glowing mushrooms and multicolored flowers. The plants tower over him, as tall as a building, but he doesn’t spare them a passing glance, pushing his exhausted limbs on relentlessly.

He can’t afford to stop. He’s not sure he’ll be able to get going again if he stops moving. Just another failure.

“What are you?”

Jaune blinks, reactions lethargic. It could be a threat, could be practically anything in this nonsense world, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s a…

He blinks again, a shock of awareness creeping back in. It’s a…caterpillar? Or a butterfly. Some combination of both, maybe. Jaune didn’t think he was capable of being surprised at this point, but the universe just delights in proving him wrong.

The caterpillar blinks at him, eyes wide and calculating. “I’m a Huntsman.” Is he though? What kind of Huntsman abandons his team? Kills his friend? “I need help,” he settles on at last.

Help with what, he can’t say. He doesn’t know.

The caterpillar’s eyes narrow. “If it’s help you need, then I can provide,” they say, voice raspy and gravely as the earth itself. “That is my purpose, as the Herbalist” They sling a bag of leaves over their shoulder. “At least, until I’m not anymore.”

Jaune follows as the self-proclaimed Herbalist leads him through a doorway into what must be the caterpillar’s home. They bustle around, weighing herbs and grumbling under their breath. “What did you say you are again?”

“I’m…” That question again, and he still has no answer. He can’t call himself a Huntsman, not after what he’s done. “I’m a hero.” That’s all he’s ever wanted to be, but even with that he falls short. Can’t very well call himself a hero after leading his friends and who knows how many civilians to their deaths.

“So are you a Huntsman or a Hero?” The caterpillar asks, and Jaune can almost hear the capitalization in their voice. “I can’t help you if you don’t know what you are.”

“I’m sorry Mr. uh… Herbalist?” Gods he’s never sounded more out of depth in his life. “I don’t think I understand the question.”

“I don’t understand how you don’t understand.” The caterpillar grumbles, rolling their three eyes in sync. “We all have our titles, our roles to play.”

Jaune follows them deeper into their home, through a bead curtain and into a room full of smoke. “And in order to help you fulfill your role-” The Herbalist drops a handful of maple leaves into the fire, and the smoke builds like a wave. “-you should really have a better understanding of what your purpose is now.”

His purpose? His role? Jaune’s head is spinning, and it’s only partially because of the smoke. Is there a single role he’s held that he hasn’t failed at spectacularly? Jaune feels like he’s falling down a long tunnel.

“So I ask you again.” The caterpillar rounds on him. Their eyes are flashing different colors in sync with the the pounding in Jaune’s head, a psychedelic swirling beating in time with his heart beat. Distantly he realizes his knees have hit the earthy floor.

“What are you?”

And his vision fills with smoke. It fills his lungs, choking him, and Jaune’s sure he coughs hard enough to lose a lung. A cloud of the stuff expels from his mouth, pooling on the smoky ground in front of him.

“So? Are you a Huntsman yet?”

Jaune looks up, heart full of dread. Because he knows that voice, knows it like he knows his own name.

A facsimile of himself smiles back, all false confidence and floppy blonde hair.

This Jaune’s eyes aren’t shadowed with everything he’s lost, everything he’s done wrong. His smile is wide and innocent, untainted by horrors he hasn’t seen yet.

The armor on his shoulders is too big, awkwardly tightened and perfect for a young hero ready to grow into his strength. Head full of dreams of a legacy to uphold, of people to protect.

It’s still lined with iron. Pyrrha’s gilding has never felt heavier.

“What?”

“Are you a Huntsman yet. Did you graduate from Beacon?”

Jaune’s heart clenches. “Beacon fell,” he says woodenly.

“And it’s your fault your partner died,” Not-Jaune says brightly. “Let’s face the facts, if Pyrrha had a stronger and braver partner instead of you, then she would have lived.”

Jaune winces at hearing it said in so matter-of-fact a tone. He’s right, he’s no Huntsman. A Huntsman would’ve been able to help Pyrrha instead of dragging her down.

“So you’re not much of a Huntsman, but you still have this whole legacy thing to uphold. So are you a hero then?”

“I help my friends,” Jaune says. His protests sound weak and desperate even to his ears“I protect people in danger and heal them when they’re hurt.”

“But you’re also the one to do the hurting.” Fake-Jaune’s voice is cocky, in that tone he’d always put on to project the air of confidence his father always said he’d need.

“Weiss was stabbed because you were too blinded by anger. Your brilliant strategy in Argus led Blake to fight her abusive terrorist ex-boyfriend. Splitting up in Atlas got Oscar kidnapped and Nora maimed.”

Not-Jaune ticks off his failures like they’re items on a grocery list. It’s like he can’t tell that every word twists the sword in Jaune’s chest a little deeper. “Oh!” His eyes light up, and his grin widens. “And we can’t forget about Penny!”

Jaune actually chokes.

Gods how many people are dead because of him? Penny certainly, her blood still stains what’s left of his sword, as red as the sash around his waist. Weiss as well, blasted off the side of a platform because he was too weak to hold on.

He’s no Huntsman. He’s certainly no hero.

“So, what are you?”

“I…” For the third time in how many minutes, Jaune doesn’t have an answer. He’s not a Huntsman, he’s not a hero. He’s staring at his hands and they’re shaking. What even is he except a failure? “I’m Jaune Arc.”

“And it sucks, doesn’t it?” The smile on his own face looks forced, cruel and and triumphant pitying all rolled into one. “Always just barely too slow to help, too weak to protect. Always the idiot stuck in the tree while his friends fight for their lives.”

Jaune doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears drop onto his palms.

“You don’t have to keep trying, ya know.” And for the first time since arriving here, Not-Jaune’s voice sounds gentle. Understanding. “They don’t need you, they never have. So why not give up?”

“You’re not a Huntsman, you’re not a hero. You could give up on being Jaune Arc.” He looks up. His younger self towers over him, eyes not shadowed and armor not gilded. His hands are on his hips, one resting on the hilt of Crocea Mors.

A better person than he’ll ever be.

“After all, what’s one more failure? It seems to be all you’re good at.”

[notitlesapply]

Fic writer 20 questions!

Got tagged by @tapemonkey21. Thanks for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

6 published currently, but I've got a LOT of WIPs, and some fics on FF.Net that everyone has probably forgotten about lol

2. What's your AO3 word count?

173,259. Hmm. Not bad.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

According to AO3 Tokyo Ghoul and Overwatch. But honestly I've only been writing Star Wars lately, I just haven't posted anything.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Pound of Flesh (Tokyo Ghoul)

Cut Him Out In Little Stars (Tokyo Ghoul)

They Watch From Above (Overwatch)

Disrepair (Overwatch)

Memories in a Tin (Overwatch)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, but I often get overwhelmed and am not sure what to say so I don't always. I haven't responded to any lately since I posted so long ago lol.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Disrepair, hands down. It even has multiple endings, each one with their own flavor of angst. It took a lot of inspiration from Silent Hill 2 so what do you expect?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm, maybe Firework Love (Overwatch). It's my least popular fic, so maybe I'm not cut out for fluff lol. I also wrote a few Rurouni Kenshin fics back in ye olde FF.Net days that had happy endings, but that's a LONG time ago.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Sometimes I get people getting nitpicky on grammar/spelling or word choices. And once upon a time (again in ye olde FF.Net days) I got complaints for dragging a fic on too long. It killed my motivation for the fic 😔

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes I have on occasion. The only one published on AO3 is They Watch From Above, which is full of Eldritch horror monster fucking 😏 It was ridiculously indulgent.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I don't have any crossovers published, but I do have ideas/WIP rattling around. I think the craziest one is my Card Captor Sakura x Star Wars idea where I turn Obi-Wan into a magical girl, Cody into a magical girl mascot that has a secret badass hottie form with wings, and together they try to stop Cody's bros from causing chaos. Alternatively there's another CCSxSW fic idea where Ahsoka and/or Anakin is the magical girl, Rex is a goddamn talking plushie, Obi-Wan is the older brother that Ahsoka/Anakin are trying to hide magic from and utterly failing at doing so, and Cody is Obi-Wan's best friend (who everyone knows is going to upgrade into boyfriend as soon as they admit their damn feelings). Also Cody's actually the cold hearted final boss but doesn't know because of ✨magical amnesia✨ (If anyone wants to hear more, hit me up, I kinda love this crack.)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes. I had a RK fic translated into Italian in ye olde days, and Cut Him Out In Little Stars was translated into Russian.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

Hmm, that's a hard one. Codywan is certainly my favorite right now, but I'm not sure which is my favorite of all time. I suppose it might be Touya/Yukito from CCS simply because they were one of my first favorites and I still have a great fondness for them today. Also they canonically are together in every universe 😍

15. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but you doubt you ever will?

A Pound of Flesh. I'm trying to at least write out a summary of how I'd finish it, but I doubt I'll fully write it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Combat. I've also been complemented on my characterization and my ability to balance humor and tragedy.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing a long fic lol. There's a reason why I'm refusing to publish my first Codywan fic until I finish it. I don't want to disappoint anyone.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's fine. I think it's especially flavorful for worlds using conlangs.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Card Captor Sakura. Back when I was young and innocent 😇

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Probably Cut Him Out In Little Stars. I'm still very proud of it. Second place would be Disrepair because of its multiple endings. I experimented a lot with that one.

No pressure tags @anxiousotters @crowleying @koisplash and anyone else who wants to join

[keenerkey]

RIRI AND HARLEY PLEASE GODD

And also celestial trio 👀👀👀👀

OOOO okay. (Hi Sarah !!) I have been so busy so I haven't been able to write much but I got back on my Riri and Harley fic and cleaned what I did have up at little just for this <3. It gave me a boost of creative energy so hopefully I'll have some free time soon cause I'm in love with this one again.

ANYWAY, context. It's a one-shot of a larger series called "The Marvelous Misadventures of the Young Avengers" that I have started planning out. It is completely canon-compliant BUT it does take place in 2029 so I have room to say some things are different from how they last left off in canon. I LOVE Riri and Harley's friendship and it's definitely a teasing, fun friendship where they both can clock each other's moods very quickly. Riri is also the first friend Harley made up in New York/Massachusetts! They shoulder Tony's legacy together. The Iron Legacies <3 <3 <3

Here is a little snip of it:

He missed Tony. If Tony was here he could give Harley some tips and he wouldn’t be failing miserably at taking on Tony’s mantle. He wouldn’t be disappointing the old man. Iron Mechanic was a joke. The Iron Legacy was a joke. He was a fucking joke.  “You know the goal is to not follow Icarus’s example.” A familiar voice rang out behind him. Harley sighed.  “Really? I thought the point was to live life fast and recklessly.” Harley responded, pulling himself together as best he could before getting up and turning around to face her. She stood behind him, her pink and yellow helmet in her arms, black hair braided back and sweat covering her skin.   “You’re lucky Peter had a big test to study for tonight and asked me to patrol for him. You would have been calming him down from a panic attack if he had been here.”  “Yeah, ‘cause I almost just killed a bunch of people and destroyed a building. I’m surprised you aren’t yelling at me.”  Riri eyed Harley for a second, like she was deciding whether or not to say something. “Sure, but it’s different with you. He doesn’t like when you get hurt.”  Harley eyebrows scrunched up and his heart thumped a little faster in his chest. It always did that when Peter was around. Or mentioned. “He’s protective of everyone. It’s his nature.”   Riri sighed, before walking over and sitting on the ledge of the building. Harley stood, staring at her. He didn’t fully understand why he was so nervous around Peter, but he suspected jealousy might have something to do with it. Envy. All his time with Tony, his talent, his ability to never fail like Harley just did-  Riri looked back at him, her eyebrows raised in expectation. “Get your ass over here and sit with me.”  Harley snapped out of his thoughts and walked over to sit beside her. They sat there for a minute, watching the skyline. 

annddd as for the Celestial Trio, which is a very vague name cause I don't have a title, I'll just tell you the basic idea run down: (I'm still bad at explaining it, exactly, so stick with me. I don't have a description figured out yet since it's still new )

Alright, so, years ago this group of heroes banded together as it was foretold by prophets and oracles and written in the threads of fate. They were destined to defeat the desperate and violent grab for power by the mad king of Hilacha. Except- they fail. Utterly. The leader, Kaius, escapes and hides himself away in shame. Years later, When her adoptive dad falls ill, Tera reluctantly followers her sister, Solara, out of the city to find a cure. They get wrapped up in a plot long planned by Theo, the mysterious guy who just so happens to be living with the disgraced hero Kaius, to get the band back together and right the wrong that happened years ago while unraveling what exactly caused them to fail in the first place.

(so basically, it's mystery, a little politics, betrayal, friendship, redemption, and the whole Celestial trio ties into world building, their deities, and the main three (Solara, Astera, and Theodore Aylin, all have names in reference to a celestial-type deity.)

[acefruit]

You are Not Sleeping on The Goddamn Floor 2/2

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: tw smut

Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester

word count: 10,320

part one

AO3 link

tags below

Summary:

Dan and Phil's 2009 meeting reimagined. Dan is curious, they talk sexuality. Smut ensues.

Notes:

a second part to my absolutely embarrassing creative outlet because i feel miserable in life

Tags: 2009 Dan Howell, 2009 Phil Lester, First Kiss, Mild Smut, Kissing, Coming In Pants, Coming Out, Grinding, Awkward First Times, Virgin Dan Howell, Virgin Phil Lester, Virginity, Dan has a crush on Phil, smut, handjobs, blowjobs

------

When Dan tried (and subsequently immediately failed) at trying to fall asleep on the mattress he himself voluntarily chose as his place of rest, he managed to come to two revelations: First, this mattress was seriously and utterly shit, and he truly couldn’t fall asleep. The second was that, well, Dan didn’t believe that he would be able to fall asleep after this whole ordeal, like ever in his life. Okay, he would have to sleep at some point, since not sleeping at all could potentially be lethal, but right now, his eyes were wide open, wandering around in the darkness of Phil’s bedroom. Even when he ended up closing them, he could still feel his eyeballs moving as he found himself involuntarily recollecting the events of his first day at Phil’s. What was worse (or maybe the best, Dan couldn’t decide on that just yet) that one more night was still ahead of them.

The thing was, Dan could probably pretend that nothing had happened, so could Phil. In the end, Phil did say that he had planned out so much more, and truth be told, they planned this for so long and they wanted it to be perfect, without a single hiccup. These three days were carefully planned out at least a month in advance; from Dan’s arrival to his eventual departure. They were most likely going to do something YouTube-related, so the idea of keeping themselves occupied long enough to forget was at least partly doable in Dan’s brain. As it turned out, they did forget something, and that was to figure out what they would do during the night.

Of course, the logical answer would be sleeping. Yet, Dan was eighteen and Phil was twenty-two, so any possible curfews just simply didn’t apply to them, and if they wanted to chat the whole night, order pizzas and watch movies, well, they were adults, and they were allowed to do as they pleased, thank you very much. The worst thing was, and Dan of the future cursed himself for it, that they were so goddamn close to watching Uma Thurman in action, if he hadn’t initiated the whole bedsheets conversation in the first place. For sure, there had to be an alternate reality in the multiverse where they just ended up watching Kill Bill and Dan possibly spilt a Pepsi in Phil’s bed on accident or something, and then they just went to sleep, no hard feelings.    

To be honest, their first day together went amazing. The night in itself: extraordinary. But as it turned out, making out and rutting against your best friend (friendly reminder: they did indeed meet for the first time that day) could still potentially create a tiny hiccup in their plans: Well, Dan simply just didn’t know how he could possibly act in front of Phil after this. Right now, he wasn’t sure if he could even look him in the eyes since the image of him and Phil being entangled in a passionate embrace was now forever imprinted at least somewhere in his brain, unless he got himself lobotomized. Simply said, Dan felt like his brain had turned into a pudding.

Dan wasn’t sure how deep into the night they were, but it took approximately twenty minutes for Phil’s breathing to slow down significantly, as he laid there in a deep slumber. He found himself growing a bit too cold for his liking, on that chilly autumn night. In a pity, he remembered his t-shirt that was more than likely still in the bathroom where he had disposed of it on the floor. Not to wake up Phil from his sleep, he didn’t want to blindly rummage through his backpack for another t-shirt either, so he decided to bear with it for the time being.

Now, Phil’s bed was not exactly large, but it could provide two lanky guys like themselves with some decent sleep if they wanted. However, that would not come without a sacrifice, as they would have to give up some of their personal space in order to achieve a good night’s rest. And Dan, well, given that he had practically climbed into Phil’s lap upon the first initiation not even an hour ago, he felt like he could not trust himself in that matter. 

After some twenty more minutes passed, Dan quietly slipped out of his duvet and blindly palmed on the floor where he guessed his phone would be. When he found it, he used the faint glow of his lock screen to silently navigate in Phil’s room without knocking anything over, until he reached the door. When he managed to leave the room without disturbing Phil, he called it a success. He retook the same route from earlier at which they both failed miserably, as they ended up pinning each other to the wall, then to the floor, gasping and panting, not even making it to the designated location without separating their lips. Once he made it to the bathroom, he threw his abandoned t-shirt back on and washed his face with cold water in the sink. With a quick look at his phone, he realized that it was almost 2 AM, which was not too bad, given that they were used for their calls to last well until dawn.

Giving himself a strict look in the mirror, he pointed a finger at his dishevelled reflection. Face red, hair now dry and curly. The purple hickey on his collarbone was undeniable. Knowing that this face made out with that Phil Lester, he took a deep breath.

“Don’t fuck this shit up, Daniel,” he muttered to himself.

Now that he was out of that excuse of a bed (that he had sadly chosen but still wouldn’t dare to let Phil sleep in his place either) he decided that he might as well just wander around and maybe get himself a proper glass of water, so he did exactly just that.

Since this was his first time in the Lester house and he didn’t exactly know the locations of all the light switches, he simply turned on the flashlight on his phone and followed the way. At the bottom of the stairs, he found himself staring at what could be only described as a haunted portrait of a Victorian family that had been murdered in this house like, two hundred years ago. Dan made a face, but made his way to the kitchen, nonetheless. He rummaged through some cabinets, found a mug, not a glass but close enough, and filled it with tap water. When refreshed enough, Dan felt like he cleared his head at least a little bit.

Making it back to his original location without meeting any vengeful spirits of Victorian children, he found Phil in the same place where he had left him last. But this time, he was curled up by the wall, his back exposed to Dan, as his duvet had probably slipped off as he moved around. Dan put the mug on Phil’s bedside table (he refilled it and took it upstairs) and after a minute of watching him, he carefully sat next to him. Temptation overtook him as his hand slowly lingered over his naked back, but not really touching. Maybe he was just pretending, imagining how it would feel like if he could do just that without any regrets. If he wanted to, he could sink his teeth into his pale white skin, just like a vampire would. Instead, he reached for the rim of the blanket that had fallen off and delicately draped it over his shoulders.

If he could, if he could just again, he would place a kiss right between his shoulder blades. But for now, Dan decided that the best decision would be not to touch his body too much, as he felt that he wouldn’t be able to control himself again.

But as he found himself wrapping Phil up in the blanket like a birthday present, scared, that he would catch a cold, Phil suddenly whimpered, turned on his back and slowly opened his eyes. Now, except for their long night calls during which they had accidentally fallen asleep before, Dan didn’t know how Phil would act when disturbed from his slumber. He could be confused or startled; he could be grumpy. Instead, he gave Dan’s silhouette a few blinks as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he gave him this lovely sleepy smile.

“Hi,” he whispered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “What time is it?”

“2 AM,” Dan answered.

“Oh,” Phil said, giving it a thought. “Not that bad.”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” Dan said, honestly. He looked over his shoulder at the mug on Phil’s bedside table. He was ready to present him with it as if it was a prey that he hunted down. “Fetched some water. Do you want some water?”

“I’m good.” Phil sat up, the blanket sliding down off his shoulders. “Has your lack of sleep something to do with the fact that you are on the cold floor?”

“There might be a slight possibility,” Dan smirked. “But it might be something else completely.”

“Oh, shush,” Phil snorted. Then, he shuffled to the wall, leaving some space next to him.

“Don’t be silly, come up here. I don’t bite,” he said as he laid back down.

That could be highly arguable, Dan thought, thinking about the love bite on his collarbone that now served as a physical reminder of Phil Lester’s touch.

Dan looked at Phil, then at the mattress in pity.

Oh, just fuck it, he thought. He gathered his blanket and a pillow and threw them on the bed, crawling underneath, not so far away from the man that he was as one with not so long ago. Dan ensured himself that once he closed his eyes, any thoughts of him and Phil Lester doing anything would be gone. He would simply just sleep.

“See,” Phil whispered, peeking at him from his blankets. “Told you so.”

Dan closed his eyes, hard. This blanket now serves as a wall, and you don’t go beyond. Leaving space for Jesus between our bodies, or whatever the fuck is the saying. You won’t be thinking about Phil Lester looking at you with those big blue eyes of his.

“I don’t think this will work,” Dan muttered into the pillow, mostly to himself, not really expecting to reach Phil’s ears.

“Oh, I have an idea,” Phil said, suddenly sitting up. Oh, no, no. Dan’s eyes flew open. “I know about something that could help you fall asleep.”

Fuck, no.

“Phil, I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, panicked.

“No, don’t worry. My mum used to do this for me all the time when I was a child.”

Dan moved the blanket a bit from where it covered his face, looking at Phil with one eye. “What?”

“I will make a pizza on your back.”

“Say that again?”

Phil giggled. Since Dan was still lying on his stomach as he dove in headfirst into the pillow, Phil gently slid the blanket off his back.

“I don’t know if I’m more intrigued or weirded out, Phil,” Dan couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“No, I swear. This is fun.” Now hovering over Dan, he rolled his t-shirt up somewhere above his shoulders. This better fucking be, he thought, chills running down his spine.

“So, first.” Phil crunched his knuckles, then put both of his warm palms on Dan’s bare back. He tried not to freak out too much. “First you knead the dough.”

His fingertips knead Dan’s back, massaging it.

“Then, you spread the sauce.” He used his palm as he spread an imaginary sauce across Dan’s back.

“Sprinkle some cheese on top.” Phil tickled him lightly all over, giving Dan goosebumps.

“Any extra toppings?” he asked.

“Huh?” Dan asked, dumbfounded.

“Toppings.”

“Just give me a plain-ass Margherita, please,” he said, laughing.

“Okay. Some extra tomatoes coming your way, sir.” Phil moved his fingers all over the place. “And lastly, the oven.”

Phil brought his lips closer to his body. He gently blew hot hair on multiple spots on his back. A finishing touch was a warm blow placed right behind his ear.

The last one had to be on purpose. Dan felt like he might die.

“And there you go,” Phil chanted as he clasped his hands together in satisfaction. “Your back pizza.”

Dan turned to his side as Phil laid back down.

“That was unexpectedly wholesome, Phil,” he smiled. And weirdly arousing.

“Are you feeling sleepy, though?”

Dan wrapped himself up in the blanket like a burrito, building up his walls again. He partially buried his face in the pillow, thinking. “Maybe there is something to it, I will give you that.”

“Good,” Phil said. Then he sighed. “I also couldn’t fall asleep. A lot on my mind.”

“Yeah?” Dan raised an eyebrow.

He nodded.

“Like what?”

In response, Phil stuck out his index finger from the depths of his blankets and buried it in the dimple of Dan’s cheek.

“You.”

He felt as blood immediately rushed into his face upon the touch. Phil cuddled up to his side, not touching him just yet, leaving Dan in agony.

“Dan,” he breathed, somewhere where his shoulder would be. Phil seemed so torn. “Dan. You have no idea what I want to do to you. Is this too bad?”

As his heartbeat rapidly sped up, Dan considered telling Phil that he should probably cancel all their upcoming plans for the next two days. They might not be leaving this house. Hell, Dan thought, he might not let him leave this bed, either. Not after this.

“I want it, too,” Dan said despite the loud pounding in his ears, embracing Phil fully. “But I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.”

He doubted that Phil knew what to do, either. Embraced like this, they laid there for a while. Although unsure about how far he actually wanted to go, he knew one thing: He wanted Phil with his whole heart. At this point, nothing felt like too far, as he, despite being an atheist, felt like he and Phil were old souls who had been tied together since the beginning of times.

“I might have an idea. But maybe I’m being stupid,” Phil murmured, nose buried in the crook of Dan’s neck.

“As long as it has nothing to do with making pizzas on our backs, I’m all ears,” Dan said, chuckling, and Phil giggled at his response.

“No. Um.” Phil became serious, his lips dangerously close to Dan’s neck. Although he couldn’t see him directly, he bet that Phil’s cheeks were heating up just like his own. Taking advantage of not being seen by Dan, he babbled out his idea: “Maybe we could get naked under the blankets? It’s dark. We can just stay on our sides. And if something happens, it happens.”

Dan gave it a second to think. Just a second, though, before letting go of Phil.

“Okay, okay,” Dan agreed, shuffling backwards to his side of the bed. “And if nothing happens, totally cool.”

“I usually sleep naked anyway,” Phil responded, rummaging under the blanket. Dan disposed of his t-shirt and began kicking off his pyjama trousers. As they both undressed on each respective side hidden under the veil of darkness, they came to a mutual agreement that this was, in fact, not a big deal. In the end, this was not that much different from their previous state. Except for the fact that, well, they weren’t wearing clothes anymore. But being butt naked doesn’t have to be inherently sexual, right? Clothing is just a product of social convention, Dan calmed himself down. Do you think that cavemen gave a damn about not wearing trousers? Hell no!

As Dan laid there wondering about the nature of cavemen in order to not get a raging boner in the next like, five seconds, Phil finally stopped fidgeting. By this time, Dan’s eyesight had adjusted to the lighting conditions, and although it wasn’t perfect, he could still make out the shape of Phil’s bare arm sticking out.

“Can you,” Phil swallowed, breaking the silence first. “Give me your hand?”

Dan hesitantly brought his hand to Phil. He gently took it by the wrist, and lifted the blanket just a tiny bit, placing Dan’s open palm on his naked chest. Under his fingers, Dan could feel it rising and falling in anticipation. This is fine. Touching the chest is fine. To distract himself from thinking about what would happen if he were to wander a bit lower under the blanket, he began drawing tiny circles into his snow-white skin. He could feel Phil’s piercing gaze.

“Dan,” he spoke again. He lifted the blanket off his chest. “You can look. If you’d like.”

Dan grew red as a tomato, curling up to Phil. He hid his face in the crook of his neck, making sure that their blankets still separated them.

“I’m freaking out so much right now,” Dan confessed. As a result, Phil giggled and placed a kiss on his forehead.

It was undeniable that Dan was growing desperately and utterly horny and all of it was Phil’s fault. Not even needing to check or touch, he was sure that he was creating a wet puddle directly on top of Phil’s bed. And to think that he said that he had washed the covers for him...

Then, Phil brought his lips to Dan’s ear, whispering. “Kiss me again?”

So, Dan did exactly just that. He brought his lips to Phil as an offering to do as he damn pleased. In return, he accepted them gladly, gently sucking on his lower lip. Dan closed his eyes in delight. When he felt Phil’s tongue graze past his lips, he parted them in response, letting him enter his mouth. 

Dan figured that he might as well accept Phil’s offer. But he decided to do it quickly as if he were to rip off a plaster. Tongues intertwined; he clutched Phil’s blanket in his fist. Three, two, one. He lifted it, separated their lips and gave one final look to Phil which said, ‘I’m going to do it’, before looking under.

Well, Dan didn’t expect that. Actually, he did expect a penis, of course. But it all suddenly felt way too real. All the blood pounding in his head left and rushed to his more southern region if it was even still possible at this point. Dan did what he could do the best: and that was to cover his face with his palms and hide himself in the crook of Phil’s neck. His throat released some sort of a squeaking sound.

Phil found this situation more endearing and comical, rather than painfully embarrassing like he just did. Dan could feel Phil’s chest trembling under his head as he laughed. He brought his hands to Dan’s hair, giving him gentle rubs.

“Oh, Dan,” Phil chuckled. “Did you see it?”

Dan could do nothing but just nod.

“Underwhelming?” he intrigued further, playing with his curls.

“God, no,” Dan opened his eyes. “Not at all. You are perfect.”

If his brain hadn’t turned into a complete mush by this point, Dan would be normally capable of coming up with a better adjective. But Phil was absolutely perfect in every sense. Not only was his mind brilliant but he had been gifted with a gorgeous body, too. Given his pale white complexion, Dan could see him quite clearly despite the darkness that surrounded them, and just a mere recollection of that moment made him feel nauseous. It was undeniable that Phil was aroused just like himself, although not fully and yet, he appeared to be bigger than him already. His penis was slightly curved to the left with a solid vein on the side and neatly trimmed pubic hair which went all the way up to his belly button. Oh, how much Dan wished to lick that trail.

Phil placed a kiss on his forehead, sighing in relief into his curls. “Poor thing. You looked traumatised for a second there.”

“I really want you. So much,” Dan whispered despite the pounding in his chest.

“I want you, too.” Phil’s thumb traced Dan’s bottom lip, then slid down to his chin. He picked it up and connected their lips in a short, tender kiss. His hand slowly slid down Dan’s chest and further down, fingers lingering at the rim of the blanket.

“Is it okay…if?” Phil asked.

Dan nodded. But before Phil could do anything, he grabbed the hand that was about to expose his modesty and looked him in the eyes with growing concern.

“Phil,” he said in a panic. “I’m horny.”

“Me too,” Phil giggled.

“No, no.” Dan’s grip strengthened, cheeks hot and red. “Like really horny. I think I’m making a mess. On your bed.”

This piece of information didn’t seem to discourage him in the slightest. If something, it probably created the exact opposite.

“Can I have a look, then?”

“…Okay.” Dan slowly let go of his wrist. Phil’s hand moved to the position where it was before, as he slowly peeled the blanket off his body.  

As he reached the location of Dan’s covered lap, his hard cock immediately sprung out, leaving a string of shiny precum connecting to the inner layer of the blanket. Never mind the chilly cold air, he laid there helpless, with his dick angry red and flushed against his abdomen. Dan wanted to die from embarrassment, although, at the same time, he felt the need to start begging Phil to just do something to him. Anything.

But instead of laughing or making fun of him, Phil seemed mesmerized, closely inspecting Dan’s body, but not touching just yet. He left the rest of the blanket on his upper thighs.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Phil asked instead in concern, gaze fixed on Dan’s arousal. No, Phil was literally devouring him with his eyes.

“Not now. It’s better without the friction.” Feeling humiliated but not wanting to stop either, Dan grabbed a pillow and put it over his face, peeking with one eye only. He babbled into it: “You can touch. If you’d like.” Or not, if there is still a chance that you are actually grossed out by me.

He felt the bed shifting slightly as Phil sunk lower to find a better position, still not gathering enough courage to look properly. Certainly, just the mental image of Phil being somewhere near his dick or god forbid laying between his legs would be enough to send him over the edge.

Suddenly, he felt Phil’s fingertips brushing over his shaft in hesitation. The contact sent a shockwave through his body. Dan decided to look down, moving the pillow aside just partly.

Phil shifted his weight on his elbow, leaning into Dan’s hip area. However, his face was partly covered by his black fringe and Dan couldn’t discern his expression, but it seemed like he was fully focused on the movement of his slender fingers. His shiny lips curved in a concentrated pout, tapping the two of his fingers on the tip of Dan’s wet cock, as if testing the waters, seeing how he would react to the touch. Little did he know that Dan was practically melting, desperate and aching. He nudged the slit with his digits, causing Dan to ooze more precum in response.

Phil hooked his fingertips slightly, gathering the wetness.

Dan gulped. “It doesn’t gross you out?”

He shook his head no, still concentrated. But then, then. He watched, mortified, as Phil brought the fingers which he had used to scoop Dan’s precum to his face, closely inspecting it. Then, he moved them to his lips and pushed them in.

Dan hiccupped into the pillow in shock as he gaped at Phil sucking his fingers dry from his own fluids. He could feel his cock twitching involuntarily on top of his stomach.

Only after removing the fingers, it appeared that just now Phil had noticed Dan’s partially covered face.

“Everything alright?” he asked softly, caressing his thigh.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to ignore the goosebumps. However, now that they were in this position, he might as well just be fully honest. “I’m trying really hard not to cum on your face.”

The image of Phil licking his fingers would be now forever imprinted on his retinas and would more likely be his wanking material for the next few weeks. Hell, he would never watch porn again, ever.

Phil gently moved the pillow from Dan’s face. “Can you stay like this for a while? I want to watch you.”

Dan didn’t precisely know what he looked like, but he could probably take an educated guess: rosy cheeks, lips wet and parted, pupils dilated in anticipation. He was so close to putting the rest of his dignity aside and just start begging Phil to completely and utterly ruin him.

“Okay.” Dan tried to relax. “But now I’m suspicious that you cast some fucking spell on me.”

Up until this point, he believed that he was somewhat capable of delaying his orgasm as he pleased, at least during masturbation. As far as an eighteen-year-old with zero experience could, anyway. With Phil Lester, on the other hand, it seemed impossible. When it happened for the first and the second time, he was not even being directly touched, messily chasing the high still fully clothed, while writhing in Phil’s lap. He was unaware of the power that he had over Dan.

Instead of responding to his snarky remark, Phil’s fingers were near his cock again. The sudden contact made him twitch in excitement. Tiny bubbles of precum gushed out of the slit, and Phil scooped it with the same motion as he did a minute ago. This time, however, he presented his fingers to Dan, testing if he would accept them. 

Dan inspected them for a split second, observing the sticky fluid spread out between his digits. He did cast a spell on me, he thought, as he obediently parted his lips, allowing Phil to slip his fingers inside. He flicked his tongue over them tentatively, the taste musky and a little bit salty. While aware that he was, indeed, swallowing his own juices so willingly, he couldn’t ignore the sensation that Phil’s slender fingers provided.

Without even realising it, he latched on them tight, grabbing him by the wrist to secure his hand in place. So, he closed his eyes shut in delight, sucking from the base to the tips in a repeated motion, until there was nothing of his release left. He stopped the urge to force the fingers further down his throat, to test himself how far he could actually go.

When he was pleased enough with his job, he released the fingers and Phil gladly brought their lips together, slipping his tongue inside as a replacement. At this point, both of their mouths were a mess: And it was strangely addicting.

Phil lifted the blanket and pushed himself on Dan, skin to skin. He could feel Phil’s hardness on his hip.

“Dan,” he parted their lips, a combination of saliva and everything else Dan had to offer. It was obscene, it was dirty, and he loved every minute of it. “Can I suck you off?”

“Yes,” Dan moaned, “Fuck, please.”

Without a word, Phil managed to crawl under Dan’s blanket and climbed out of the hole between his legs. Dan’s erection was directly in front of his face, aching to be touched.

“I’m going to come from this,” Dan warned him, scared that it was going to happen in an instant and it would be over, just like that. As much as he wanted to give in, the sight in front of him was just too much to bear.

“No, no,” Phil reassured him while kissing his protruding hip bone with an open mouth. “Not yet. You can do it.”

Phil moved his lips to hover over the blunt tip of his cock, batting his pretty eyelashes.

“Can you do it for me?” he whispered.

Dan trembled upon the sensation of Phil’s breath on the sensitive skin of his cock. He never would have imagined that being told what to do would be so arousing. This side of Dan would be worth exploring. So, Dan tried his best and braced himself, grabbing a fistful of sheets beneath him on both sides. Releasing a shaky breath, he nodded.

And just like that, Phil’s mouth devoured him completely.

Immediately after the initial reaction of holy shit, holy shit, Dan’s muscle control was suddenly rendered non-existent, his lower back arching from the bed. It took every ounce in his body to not proceed to thrust upward and chase the wet heat of Phil’s mouth mindlessly without any consideration. He forced his hips back down, gasping. Phil helped him out by grabbing them, locking him in place, head bobbing up and down on his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Dan hissed, trying to control his voice. There was no chance that he would stay quiet for long. When he looked down, he could see that Phil was taking him in like it was nothing, cheeks hollowed up and already halfway down his cocksize and working himself to go lower. “God. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

Phil retreated, his dick popping out with a lewd sound. It was wet and shiny with saliva, just like Phil’s lips, which began forming a tight smile.

“No,” he shook his head, smirking. “But I definitely wanted to for a long time.”

Then he sunk his head even lower, right below Dan’s balls. He used his lips to caress one of them and traced it with his tongue, before continuing in a trail upward in a one, strong lick. Dan was unable to control his moans anymore.

“Oh, Phil!” he yelped. “Oh my god.”

Before Dan knew it, he was pleading. Tears began to form in his eyes, and he wasn’t even sure what he was pleading for.

But Phil didn’t stop there, his tongue travelling along his shaft until he stopped at the head of his cock. He reached for Dan’s hand, which was still grabbing the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white, redirecting him towards his member instead. Dan obediently cupped himself with a shaky hand. As he did that, Phil pressed the tip in the middle of his tongue.

Dan wondered, how the hell did he end up in this position, slowly pumping his dick into Phil’s tongue, desperately trying to delay his inevitable orgasm.

“This is so hard,” Dan complained, panting.

“You are doing so well, though,” he said, flicking his tongue over the slit of his cock. Phil was probably pleased over not needing to gather Dan’s precum by his fingers anymore, lapping at it directly from the source instead. He was not helping the situation one bit. But it felt incredible. So, so incredible. Dan just wanted to stay like this forever.

“Phil,” he moaned. “Please.”

“Right here,” he reassured him. Dan let go of his dick and cupped Phil’s cheeks instead, guiding his mouth exactly where he wanted it to be. He didn’t need to ask twice, as Phil complied eagerly, letting him slide back into his mouth in full.

“Oh. My. God,” Dan cried, sliding his fingers into Phil’s hair. He carried on from where he stopped, pushing his member further down at a very slow pace. Dan’s whole body started trembling from just watching himself disappear inside of Phil’s mouth, and he didn’t stop until the tip of his nose reached Dan’s trimmed pubic hair. His cock wasn’t the largest in the first place, at least in comparison to Phil’s anyway, but it was still mesmerizing to watch as he took him in without any issue. Phil simply had a natural talent.

Once his dick hit the back of his throat, Phil hollowed his cheeks and went back up, lapping his tongue over the tip. Then, he went straight back down again.

“Close,” Dan cried. Just like that, Phil’s mouth was gone. He couldn’t help but whimper at the sudden loss.

Instead, Phil pushed himself up, revealing his own cock in his fist, pumping hard and fast.

“Do you,” he panted, “Do you want to fuck me, Dan?”

“Phil!” Dan gasped in shock, feeling a twitch in his cock. He couldn’t believe that Phil would just offer himself like that. Just the mere thought of fucking Phil was way too much for Dan.

"I wouldn’t last a second," he said with full honesty.

Phil leaned in, innocently pecking his lips, as if he just didn’t offer him a scandalous proposition.

“Next time, then?” Phil smiled. “Or maybe I could do you, too. I think you would like it.”

Dan’s eyes rolled back into his head when he imagined it. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

While placing an open-mouthed kiss on his neck, Phil lined up their erections perfectly.

“This ‘kay?” he breathed heavily, wrapping his long fingers around both of their members.

“Perfect,” Dan babbled, mouth hanging open. It was a bit clumsy at first, but soon enough Phil had picked up a steady rhythm, tugging at both of their slick cocks simultaneously, working them towards their climax. Dan was incoherent and completely ruined by the intense sensation, grabbing Phil anywhere he could reach. Please, please.

As a reciprocation, Phil tried his best to embrace him while at the same time pumping both of their cocks in unison. Dan began thrusting his hips upward messily, desperate for more until he felt a familiar sensation pooling at the bottom of his belly: he was so close.

“Coming,” Dan cried out and soon enough, his semen was shooting between Phil’s knuckles. Phil tried his best to work him through it as he was riding out his high. He smashed their lips together, ready to swallow his fervent moans. Dan couldn’t help but whimper uncontrollably into his mouth.

In order to not torture him any longer, Phil released Dan’s spent dick from his grasp, jerking himself off vigorously.

“Ah, ah,” Phil panted between the kisses. Dan’s eyes were glossy and his lips slacked as he recovered from the intensity of his orgasm. It didn’t take long before Phil was coming between their burning bodies.

Phil rested his forehead on top of Dan’s, both trying to calm down their breathing. Their eyes locked.

“Wanna clean up?” Phil suggested.

“Yeah,” Dan smiled and yawned. “Then sleep. But here. Not on the floor.”

“Of course,” Phil pecked his lips. “Stay right here.”

The bed shifted as he climbed out and left the room. Dan laid on his back silently contemplating about what just happened and the loving peck that lingered on his lips. When Phil returned, he was carrying a wet towel. Noticing Dan’s exhaustion, he laughed, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his teeth as he did so.

“So now I know what actually makes you sleepy,” he giggled. He sat down on the bed and began carefully wiping the mixture of their come off Dan’s belly. Dan gave him a look.

“What?” Phil laughed again. Then he leaned in closer, placing yet another kiss in the corner of his mouth. He was unable to resist.

“In that case,” Phil whispered when pulling back, “I hope you won’t be able to fall asleep more often. I will gladly take care of you.”

“Phil!” Dan gasped, cheeks growing deep red again. But then he reached his arms towards him and connected them behind his neck, pulling him into a warm embrace. Phil threw the used towel aside on the ground at what looked like a pile of clothes ready for laundry.

“Sorry,” Phil breathed into his hair, snuggling closer. He draped the blanket over their tangled limbs. “It’s so cute when you blush.”

Dan released a deep exhale and closed his eyes; he brushed the tip of his nose over Phil’s. He was so ready to drift off into a deep slumber, after all of this. But there was one last thing lingering on his mind.

“So,” Dan bit his lip, carefully choosing the right words. He looked at Phil with a twinkle in his eyes. “Will there be more of…?”

He trailed off when he was met with Phil’s piercing blue eyes.

“I would love that,” he smiled.

“Me too.” Dan was relieved. Then he sighed. “I never want to leave your place.”

Phil connected their lips in a brief but sweet kiss. He cupped his cheek.

“We still have a whole day and night in front of us. And also,” he smirked. “I have an idea for a video that we could film tomorrow for my channel. I think you will like it.”

A chill crept down Dan's spine as he realized that meeting Phil was just the beginning of something extraordinary.

[icarusredwings]

REVIEW TIME!!

with commentary! By me!

Yaaayy ngl ive told like 3 of my friends how excited I am for this so firstly I would like to heavily thank you and secondly please give a hand to our writer!

They are amazing.

Firstly, it's 5k words.

Wowza. Big boy. (That's what she said)

"Puppy kink if you squint" Ill be the judge of that thank you very much.

Ah yes the fire jealousy bugs. Very common for 40 year olds with cancer nowadays.

OH NO- The B-word!!.... Bronchitis. Probably.

Bro were less then 100 words in and already he's been slapped with the daddy title.

Wade snapping from "im so cute and flirty and a tease" to "im Dyslexic" in a serious deadpan is so funny.

I know wades eyes are brown but I kinda liked the idea of them being glowy and yellow. Utterly just looking terrifying and Logan glancing at him like "yeh thats my little goblin. His skin falls off sometimes, hes bassically fucking radioactive from all the failed chemo and radiology treatments, Oh and btw you can cut off his head and somehow see and talk still. Its creepy."

Ah yes. Bribe this man to read. And teach him while you're at it because his parents sure did a shit job at it.

Logan sweetie, it's in your genes to be a teacher. Of course, he's confident.

I love how nervous they both are. Truely its ussually only one of them but its nice that both are shitting bricks right now, Logan because its his letter and wade because hes scared that he wont be able to do it and logan will leave him for it or something drimatic like that.

The encouragement is killing me. Its so soft.

Man theyre so gentle. Wade is going to cry soon I just know it. These are too nice of things to be said in such a serious way. The encouraging kisses and rubs are so nice too.

Man they're so gonna roleplay a teacher student thing eventually and Logans going to have such mixed feelings about it because Wade can make anything look and sound sexy but at the end of the day, the moral code of a teacher is to protect their students- Not fuck them.

Oh im starting to see the puppyness but just a itty bitty bit. This is called positive reinforcement Wade. Get used to it. It means when youre good you get special attention.

God the praise. The "good job bub" the "sound it out." It's all gorgeous.

The idea of him being so supportive when Wade has lightbulb moments. Calling his eyes prettg, his skin heavenly, all while Logans down there being a tease? Holding his hair in a grip and borderline in tears at how sexually frustrated he's getting.

Perfect.

We already know they both have praise kinks but wades the type you could tell him to speak in public and he'd start barking and whining.

He's so patiant and gentle.

Scratch that. He got too impatiant and decided "fuck it youre taking too long ill read the damn thing"

Struggling a bit to understand what position theyre in most times.

OoohhHoho boy. "Its what you deserve" NOW were talking.

Yay! Body praise! Body worship! Thats the shit.

"So loved that its making him feel nauseous" been there. Felt that. Best choice of my life <3 Did I mention I love my wife?

Oh there we go. Wades getting teary. Called it.

Yo Logan is so emotional that it seems like HES the one about to throw up at how lovey dovey himself is being.

Also Logan writing out that Wade is not one of his problems and that he's too scared to ask wade to stay? Fucking screaming.

Ooohh baby no. Wade honey I know you cant stand this type of intimacy because it was never taught to you but you don't need to joke about this baby hes serious. You have this man in your bed reading a drunk confession letter out loud to you after he just sucked your dick. How much more serious can he be?

Wade dreamily and patiantly waiting for Logan to get ready because hes so nervous that hes shaking is such a bare minimum thing but its beautiful.

A lot of "marred" in this fic.

Logan "Stop drinking jack you have gay thoughts" Howlett, the poet who didn't even know it.

"When was the last time I made love to someone? God made love? What am I? A virgin?" Brother please we do not have time for this macho man stuff everyone knows you got a lot of bitches, you are so not a virgin. You're so much not a virgin that you probably need to be baptized 70 times before all of your fuckery before marriage sins go away.

I wanna kink shame wade so badly like my guy you couldn't have waited 10 more minutes to let him streach ya you're just gonna raw dog it (pun not intended) and whine when that shit hurts? But like.. in a weirdo kind of way? Valid. Its the wolverine. Enough said.

Dipped down is also a very frequent and perhaps slightly overused term. As well as 'lips lock'

Still have no clue what position this is LOL

Wow so mean. Who knew the Wolverine was into orgasam denial. I sure didn't.

Wade is definitely a cryer during sex I dont care what you all say my boy is way too overstimulated for this nonsense and for logan to be "pounding him like he owes him money" is definitely tears worthy.

I do see the puppy kink aspect. I raise you- literal tricks. Telling him to roll over, patting his thigh to come here, the whimpers.

Also I was fully expecting this to be like a 1 thrust per word until theres no more words kind of thing.

No after cuddles? Rude. For shame.

Undoubtedly though they both are very much asleep now for sure.

Domesticated Wolverine

@icarusredwings

“I s– secretly love it that you talk so much, I think you’re… funny and your laugh is sexy.” Wade glances over his shoulder. “Did I read that right?” He asks, starting to flush pink.

“Yes,” Logan purrs, tracking kisses down the side of his neck.

Wade’s heart starts to pound out of his fucking chest.

“And you look hot in your… Hello Kitty… pajamas.” Wade turns to show his grin. “Really?”

Logan huffs a soft laugh back. “You look hot in everything. And nothing.”

Wade flushes a little pinker. “Are you drunk right now?”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Nope, you just broke me down, as you are so very good at.”

Through pursed lips, Wade mumbles, “I am pretty good at that, actually.”

Logan hums back a little mhm, and Wade can feel his fingers skirting over the mottled skin of his chest and stomach, like he’s admiring it. Butterflies gather behind his ribs and underneath Logan’s strong and capable hands. “Keep reading,” gets whispered into Wade’s ear.

Shivering, he obliges. “Your thighs look so good in the Deadpool suit, swear– swear to God I can– Logan, my gosh. Take a girl to dinner.”

[enhaheeseung]

At your service l. Heeseung

Pairing : live in maid heeseung x rich fem reader

Warnings : age gap, eventual smut, vulgar language, angst, heartbreak, dirty talk, an attempt at comedy, more to be added in later chapters.

Note : this was originally going to be an smau so there will be a lot of texting but it’s mainly written. I tried something different with the texting and writing style so bear with me.

Masterlist

WC 2,325

Chapter 2

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You were born into a rich family. You went to private schools with other rich kids. You got to spend as much money as you wanted. You were absolutely, utterly spoiled, but in the best way possible.

You always remained humble and never overstepped your boundaries when it came to the less fortunate.

A lot would say you're too giving, and that's why your generosity led you to a lot of heartbreak and fake friends.

Even being in your mid 30s, you still couldn't find the right one. And having friends just didn't seem like an option anymore.

The idea of falling in love with someone just to find out they only wanted you for your money was your biggest fear.

You lived alone thanks to your parents. They paid for all your expenses and even gave you an allowance. Whenever you tried to refuse, they'd insisted on giving you money, always reminding you that this was their goal in the first place to make enough money, so their kids never had to work.

Though you were grateful for them, you still wanted to be a bit more independent, but you decided to give in to their wishes and be an obedient daughter. after all, you weren't the brightest bulb in the room.

You got up extra early to get some cleaning done. But there was only so much you could do after cleaning. You tried to cook breakfast but failed miserably for the hundredth time, nearly burning down the whole mansion.

Luckily for you, there's a fire extinguisher and sprinklers in the kitchen.

You quickly put out the small fire sighing in defeat. Then it came to you.

A maid!

A live in maid!

Then you wouldn't have to cook or clean anymore, not to say you didn't want to but at least not the whole mansion every single day all by yourself, and you'd pay them a good amount.

You phoned your parents, and they instantly agreed upon hearing your story about breakfast, and they thought the company would be nice for you, seeing how they didn't get to visit you often.

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"What am I gonna do?" Heeseung sighed, thinking about his student loans,

"Get a job," his friend jay piped up.

"Please do enlighten me on what job pays 100k. In less than a year, I promised my parents I'd have it paid by now, and I haven't even made a dent," he rubbed at his temples.

"I told you not to do it."

"Some friend you are, maybe, you're right. I'll just get a job and pay back as much as I can. This is going to suck."

He opened his laptop, typing away at the keys, searching for a job.

"What are you searching for?" Jay inquired, looking at his elder friend's screen.

"A job? What do you think?" He said as if it was the stupidest question a person could ask.

"Well, excuse me" jay went back to eating his lunch.

"Ooh, what about a convenience store?"

"Too much labor for little pay, next"

"Okay, how about, let's see, a server?"

"Still no pay, and the tips you make will just average to minimum wage."

"Okay, know it all. I feel like giving up already" he leaned back in his chair.

"Come on, the heeseung I know never quits. Keep looking"

Right before he closed his laptop, his eyes scanned a listing that paid a hundred and fifty dollars an hour. He blinked, not believing his eyes.

"No way"

"What did you find?"

"A live in maid? It says it pays one hundred and fifty an hour."

"What?!" Jay nearly choked on his food, "what are you waiting for? apply before someone else does!"

"But what if it's a scam?"

"Just try it and see the worst that can happen is you get killed when you show up for an interview," jay said, completely unphased.

"Wow, thanks, I needed that"

He made an account and uploaded a picture, then typed in a few details about his situation and basic information like his date of birth and phone number. Once he finished, he pressed enter.

"I hope this is legitimate." A sigh left his lips.

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You got a notification a few minutes after putting up your listing. To your surprise, someone had already applied you unlock your phone reading through the application.

You were happy to see that they stated a bit about themselves and when you read that they really needed the job to pay off student loans, you really felt an obligation to help. You had more money than you knew what to do with, so why not help someone out.

You scrolled a bit further, and you were shocked to see his profile picture. He was in his early 20s, with brown hair and brown eyes, and extremely handsome.

Wait, he's like a lot of years younger than me. Get a grip.

You shook your head and accepted his application. Now you just had to contact him to meet him face to face.

You texted the number he entered in.

You : "Hi, this is y/n, I got your application, and I wanted to meet you in person to see if you meet the criteria. You can come anywhere in the afternoon. I'm free all week, so whatever works best for you.

You set your phone down, a small smile on your face anticipating your meeting.

You heard a ding and looked at your phone to see a notification from the same number.

Heeseung : "Actually, I just got out of school, so can I come over today?"

You : "Sure! I'll send the address now. What time are you thinking?"

Heeseung : "I'm about ten minutes out. Is that okay?"

You : "Yep, see you then!"

You shut off your phone, going to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. You tied your hair and sprayed a bit of perfume before going into the living room to wait.

Why am I so nervous? You held your chest, trying to calm down your racing heart.

You heard the doorbell ring, and it was exactly ten minutes later.

So he makes being on time a priority.

Noted.

You took one long breath and opened the door.

Wow, he's even more handsome in person. Oh, and how I wish I could shut off my stupid. Brain, for thinking of such things, he probably has a girlfriend anyway.

"Hi, you must be heeseung?" You offered your hand for him to shake.

"That's me, and you must be y/n?" He shook your much smaller hand.

"Yes," you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks from the slight contact of his warm hand on yours.

Have I always been down this bad?

"It's nice to meet you, y/n."

"You as well. Sorry I won't keep you standing out here any longer. Please make yourself at home."

He stepped in and took a quick look around before taking off his shoes at the door. Even though it was a mansion and he's never seen inside one before, somehow it still looked very homely, or maybe that was just normal.

"You like it?" You asked, noticing how intrigued he was by the mansion.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, are all mansions this, umm, modern?" He noted how everything looked very similar to his living space.

"Not all. But I try to keep it as simplistic as possible I'm not into all the fancy stuff."

"Well, I like it. It makes me feel like I'm at home."

"It could be your home soon. So, the listing I put up was pretty vague, so feel free to take a seat anywhere you'd like, and I'll get started with a few questions. I would have put the questions along with the posting, but I feel like face to face is more…

"Personal," he looked you in the eyes.

"Yeah, personal" your eyes immediately darted away from his.

You both sat down at your kitchen table.

"That makes sense, so y/n, what are your questions?"

"Right, so you'll just need to do a few very simple tasks. Seeing how I live alone, there's not that much. First on the list is laundry. The second is dishes, you looked at him, and he nodded his head for you to continue. "third is cooking, and fourth is yard maintenance like trimming the hedges and watering the lawn."

And then it hit you, how could I be so forgetful?

"I'm sorry, would you like something to drink?"

"It's okay. I'll just have water, please."

"One water coming up." You excused yourself from the table.

He watched you walk away and made sure to take a good look at your behind.

He pulled out his phone to text jay.

Real life Bambi🦌 : You're not going to believe this.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : Tell me, and I will.

Real life Bambi🦌 : Okay, so the job is super simple. It's just like everyday housework like cooking and cleaning.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : Okay, but you don't know how to cook.

Real life bambi🦌 : It can't be that hard. I'll practice when I get home.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : Don't call me when you set the house on fire.

Real life bambi🦌 : I'll have you on speed dial, anyway. This is the part you're really not going to believe.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : I believed everything else, so I doubt it. But try me.

Real life bambi🦌 : My employer is female.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : You're fucking lying!

Real life bambi🦌 : told you! and guess what? She's literally so fucking hot, oh my god, like step all over me. Please, she could use me, throw me away, and I'd thank her.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : Well, you know what that means? I have to pay you a little visit sometime😉

Real life bambi🦌 : No! Stay far away from here. I found her first.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have even gotten the job.

Real life bambi🦌 : Oh wait, that's true. I haven't even got the job yet :(

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : Don't sweat it. I'm sure you'll get it.

Real life bambi🦌 : Fingers crossed, oh, she's coming back gotta run😍

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : Simp

"Here's your water." You sat back down at the table.

"Thank you" you watched his adam's apple Bob up and down while he drank the water. You shook your head to focus back on the questions.

"Okay, those are basically the things you'll be doing on a daily basis, maybe shopping on the weekends, but it's all pretty straightforward. Any questions for me?"

"Why are you paying so much? I don't mean to be rude, but it just seems too good to be true."

"I have a lot of money to give, so a hundred for me is like a dollar, and when I saw that you're paying off student loans, I thought you'd be perfect for the job. I know just how pricey those loans can be, and I assumed it would be a less stressful job for a student."

"Are you an angel in disguise?" He chuckled.

"I'm whatever you want me to be" You wanted to cut your tongue out before you could say anything else stupid.

"I'll think on it" he took one last sip of his water, handing you the empty glass.

"I'll go and wash this and give you some time to think on it."

He gave you a smile.

Real life bambi🦌 : Okay, so I got the job.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : Really?

Real life bambi🦌 : Well, she's given me a few minutes to think. she’s kinda doing the interview backwards, cause she’s giving me the final decision, but she’s honestly so nice.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : Don't forget about me when you make it to the top.

Real life bambi🦌 : Yeah, yeah, She's like crazy hot and super beautiful, but I think she's a bit older than me :(

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : Yeah, she's probably married too.

Real life bambi🦌 : I don't think so. She doesn't have a ring.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : Well, then I'd say go for it, but wouldn't it be kinda weird living together?

Real life bambi🦌 : Yeah, that's true, but it's not like I'll need to work with her for long, so maybe I'll bone her on my last week😉

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : You're disgusting.

Real life bambi🦌 : What? I'm just looking at the bright side. Just think about it. I get to live in a mansion I'll make over a hundred a day, and I get to see her I'm living the life.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : You're still disgusting.

Real life bambi🦌 : Stay mad. You're just salty that it's not you.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : I'll stick to working a 9 to 5 and bang chicks that are actually my age.

Real life bambi🦌 : Boring. Not many people can say they got that ripe pussy at my age.

Jay park my car in your garage🐦 : Ooh, What a title to have

Real life bambi🦌 : gotta go. My sugar mama is coming 🥰

"So, have you made a decision yet?" you sat across from him at the table.

"You got yourself an employee." he gave you a wide smile.

"Great! When would you like to start?" I get a bit lonely around here, so the sooner, the better, but no pressure."

"Tomorrow is great for me."

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Hi, I’m back with another series I’ll be updating by chapters Im not sure when the next update will be cause I haven’t finished all chapter’s yet, but if you have any ideas on when I should post the next chapter feel free to let me know.

Also tell me how you like it so far should I make any changes To the texting or writing style or is it fine the way it is?

I’m so nervous after posting this cause I feel like it’s so bad I haven’t wrote anything new since “taxi” and now I forgot how to write😭

🏷permanent taglist @hee-in @jayroseyy @axartia @bunhoons @hello-stranger24 @ashxsmoon @lhsggg @scarlet127 @kpopscruggles @badidealy @heeseungleeworld @duolingofanaccount @oceanyocean @heesgirl @yjwnoot if you want to be added or removed, just leave an ask or comment.

Thanks for reading likes and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors and enjoy your day/night🤎

[thearvariblues]

Sing Me a Song

“You Geralt of Rivia’s bard?”

Jaskier looks up from his notepad and grins at the man who’s just sat at the opposite side of the table.

“Technically, I used to be,” the bard says, taking a sip of his ale. “We had a tiny misunderstanding last year. I’m sure he’s gonna be fine, though, I’m just giving him some time to cool down and wallow in self-pity.”

Jaskier frowns, because his brain has finally caught up with his mouth and informs him that even though the man who asked the question is very pretty (and he is – a bit short, but lean and clearly very agile, brown-skinned, with dark, wavy hair and stunningly unnatural green eyes), he also has got two big, scary swords strapped to his back, way too many scars and has, in fact, only one green eye, the other being covered by an eye patch, presumably missing.

And then there’s the Cat school medallion on his chest.

As Geralt would say… fuck.

“Unless you’re here to kidnap me and torture me to lure him into a trap. If that’s the case, I’ve never met a Geralt of Rivia in my life. Also, if you harm a hair on my head, he will hunt you down and kill you, very slowly and painfully. Just a heads up,” Jaskier smiles, utterly failing to sound at least a little bit threatening.

“Thanks for the warning,” the Witcher laughs. “But I actually need you to write me a song.”

“Sorry, I’m afraid this bard already has a Witcher to praise,” Jaskier protests, shaking his head firmly.

“Ugh. Who says I want praise?” the man says, making a face. “I just can’t seem to find a friend of mine, so I need to make him find me.”

“With a song? Do I look like a fucking pied piper?” Jaskier smirks.

“A little, yeah.”

“Fair enough. What’s in it for me?”

“What do you think is going to happen once Geralt hears that his bard has found himself a new muse?” the Witcher grins.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, chuckling. “Oh, but that’s good.”

“Are you in, then?”

“Absolutely. And, uhm… What did you say your name was?”

“By the gods, where are my manners?” the Witcher laughs. “I’m Aiden.”

*

Geralt places two tankards of ale on the table and sits down with a grunt.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting old, Wolf,” his brother Lambert smirks and promptly pulls one of the tankards closer. “Because that almost sounded like Vesemir when he’s trying to get up from his chair.”

“You’re so fucking funny,” Geralt murmurs.

“I know, right?” Lambert grins, tucking a strand of curly red hair behind his ear. “So, how’s life on the Path without your beloved bard?”

“Not my bard.”

“So pretty fucking terrible, eh?” Lambert chuckles.

“Fuck off, Lambert.”

“You’re being very nice and friendly today, you know?”

“I bought you a drink. So shut up and… drink.”

Lambert shrugs and for once does what he’s told. Within a few seconds, half of the tankard’s content vanishes.

“If it’s any consolation, life without my Cat is also pretty fucking unbearable,” he says then.

“Hm.”

“Oh, really, Geralt? You’re using your famous hm against me? Me, your brother?!”

Geralt groans.

“By the gods… Why can’t I just run into Eskel for once? Why does it always have to be you?”

“You’re just lucky, I guess.”

“Lucky. Yeah.”

Lambert rolls his eyes and focuses on his ale again – until the local bard grabs his lute and starts playing a slow, romantic ballad. Lambert growls.

“Fuck, I hate that song!”

“Why?” Geralt blinks, because he’s never heard the song before, and to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t really sound that bad.

“A brown-skinned woman with dark hair who’s seemingly killed, then comes back to life already plotting her revenge, only to find out that her lover’s already avenged her? Always reminds me of Aiden.”

“Aiden wasn’t exactly… A woman, was he?”

“He also hasn’t come back to life, as far as I know,” Lambert mutters.

“Who wrote it?” Geralt frowns, listening carefully. “It sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Some Master Dandelion. Never heard of him, but it seems he’s very popular now.”

“Hmmm…”

“Oh, not again!” Lambert groans.

“It just… It really does sound like Jaskier’s song.”

“You just fucking miss the bard, Geralt, that’s all.”

“No. No, I actually think…”

“That might be exactly the problem,” Lambert says and places his empty tankard back on the table. “The second round’s on me.”

*

“Seems like your plan’s not working as intended,” Jaskier comments. He’s spent weeks traveling with Aiden, and they still haven’t even heard about another Witcher trying to find them.

“I’m aware,” Aiden mutters, chewing his dinner without even noticing its taste – which is, honestly, probably for the best. “Could you be, like… less subtle?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“I suppose.”

“Fine,” Aiden nods. “Do it.”

*

“It’s a man now,” Geralt frowns, listening to the song he’s heard countless times already. “That’s new.”

“Looks like Master Dandelion might like to, uhm, dual wield,” Lambert snorts.

“It still sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Does Jaskier like to dual wield?”

“Hmm,” Geralt says dreamily.

“All the more reason to apologize, then, eh?”

“Oh, shut up, Lambert…”

*

“Still not working!” Aiden groans. He’s been waiting for three months for his Wolf to find him, and to no avail.

“I could, you know… Try something more obvious,” Jaskier offers.

“Please.”

*

“It’s a cat now,” Geralt blinks. “Dark-skinned, dark-haired… cat.”

Lambert sighs.

“Yeah, I hate those fucking metaphors.”

*

“I’m starting to think I should have just… kept trying to find him,” Aiden sighs, staring out of the tavern’s window.

Jaskier, cheeks still flushed from his performance, downs his ale and shakes his head.

“Don’t give up hope just yet,” he says. “I’ve already made a few changes to the song.”

“Oh, have you?” Aiden smirks. “Does it now say Lambert, I’m alive you moron, stop hiding and fucking find me?”

“Well, not yet… But almost.”

“Great. I can’t wait to hear it.”

*

Lambert is staring at yet another local bard singing the fucking ballad. He doesn’t even blink. Geralt is getting a little worried that his brother’s brain might have actually exploded.

“It says a Cat Witcher now,” he says, hoping it would get a reaction out of Lambert.

The redhead finally blinks. That’s probably good.

“A Cat Witcher who comes back to life only to find out his Wolf lover has already avenged him,” Geralt adds.

Lambert blinks again.

“And you know, I’m almost sure that this Master Dandelion is just Jaskier’s new alias.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Lambert mutters when the song finally comes to its end.

“Which one of them?” Geralt smirks.

“Both of them!” Lambert growls. “I swear to gods, if I find out your stupid bard stole my Cat…”

“Excuse me, madam,” Geralt says to the innkeeper who’s just brought them their dinner. “Where did your bard learn this song?”

“That sappy ballad?” the innkeeper frowns. “From this Master Dandelion himself. He passed through the town last week with a Witcher.”

“And Master Dandelion…”

“You know the bard that calls himself Jaskier? It’s him with a fancy hat on,” she smirks.

“About this Witcher,” Lambert growls. “Does he look like in the song?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Kind of small for a Witcher, and almost too pretty, you know, but we had a little griffin problem and he slayed that beast like it was nothing, so…”

“I’m so gonna kill them both,” Lambert murmurs while Geralt has to try very hard not to chuckle.

“Would you happen to know where were they heading?” he asks.

“I would,” the woman says and looks at the Witcher expectantly.

“I see,” Geralt sighs. “You have another monster problem, don’t you?”

“Well. It turns out the griffin probably had a mate…”

“Of course it fucking did,” Geralt nods and picks up his fork. He simply refuses to deal with this with an empty stomach…

*

Jaskier critically eyes the clothes he’s picked for tonight’s performance.

“What do you think, Aiden?” he asks his companion. “Isn’t the purple a bit too much? It’s a small town, after all. Wouldn’t the steel blue look better?”

“I don’t know, I like the red one best,” Aiden shrugs from his spot on the bed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Reminds you of Lambert’s hair,” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes. “Melitele’s tits, I wish he’d find us already, because this is getting really–”

As if on cue, the door of the room slams open and a big, red-haired man walks in.

“You fucking bitch!” he yells when he sees Aiden.

The dark-haired Witcher beams and gets to his feet.

“Lambs!”

“Oh. Okay. That was fast,” Jaskier nods.

Lambert growls and grabs Aiden by the collar.

“Asshole!” he hisses. “I fucking mourned you!”

“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet,” Aiden smiles.

Lambert pushes him against the wall, so hard that Aiden grunts.

“I cried for you!”

“In my defense, it wasn’t exactly my fault,” Aiden smiles.

Jaskier inches towards the door.

“I guess I’ll just… leave you two to it.”

Needless to say, Lambert ignores him completely.

“I fucking avenged you!”

“Yes, that was very kind of you,” Aiden grins, utterly unaffected by Lambert’s angry face so close to his own. “You saved me a lot of trouble.”

Lambert groans, buries his face in Aiden’s shoulder and sighs deeply.

“You fucker,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I missed you too, puppy,” Aiden smiles, wrapping his arms around Lambert.

Jaskier, who’s already standing in the doorway, places his hand on his heart and takes a deep breath.

“Oh,” he whispers. “I shall write the most beautiful ballad about this… Ow!”

He’s unceremoniously dragged out of the room and this time it’s his turned to be slammed against the wall by a big, angry Witcher – but this one is white-haired and dressed all in black.

“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaims, his face brightening up.

“You won’t write a fucking thing,” Geralt growls.

“Is that so? May I ask why, dear heart?”

“Because you’re mine. My bard. And if I ever find out you’re writing about another Witcher again–”

“Then what?” Jaskier asks, cocking his head. “But before you answer, I’d like to remind you that I am not yours anymore, as you have made it quite clear on the mountain that you are not interested in having me as a companion–”

Jaskier is effectively shut up by Geralt’s lips pressing against his with determination that makes it absolutely clear that Geralt hasn’t merely lost his balance and happened to be falling in Jaskier’s general direction.

“Mine,” he growls.

“Well,” Jaskier sighs, slipping his fingers into Geralt’s hair. “When you put it like that… Fuck the mountain, I suppose.”

“Fuck the mountain,” Geralt agrees. “But I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“Apology very much accepted,” Jaskier laughs. “I’d ask you to fuck me, but I’m afraid my room is currently… occupied.”

Lambert’s loud moan only confirms Jaskier’s statement.

“Hm,” Geralt hums. “Do you think this tavern has a bath? I think I still have some griffin blood in my hair from last week.”

“Oh,” Jaskier purrs. “Oh, yes. And I’m sure I could get some chamomile oil…”

They hear another moan, this time Aiden’s.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Geralt grins and grabs Jaskier’s hand. “Come on, bard. We have some catching up to do…”

[deadpoetinautumn]

Steve Harrington and his god-awful music

Steve Harrington has been moping about for two weeks now. Nancy Wheeler chose Jonathan Byers over him for the second time in his life - the first being in 1984 and somehow just as crushing. I’ve been there for both, regrettably. I was there when he whimpered in his sleep and wept on his pillow. I was there when he ‘got back on the scene’ again after it all, like bambi on ice. I was there when he whined on about Robin Buckley being ‘the one’ until she wasn’t any longer. Most irritatingly though, I have been there through every use of his utterly horrific heartbreak mixtape.

‘Say it isn’t so’, ‘Where do broken hearts go?’, ‘(I just) Died in your arms’, ‘why’

The list goes on and on. It’s the most vicious form of torture because there is nothing I can do about it. I’ve tried putting him onto The Smiths, The Cure, god only knows I’ve tried. It’s no use. He’s unmovable every time. And this time is no different.

Steve is on my bed on his back, legs hanging off the edge and into oblivion. His Walkman is on, and by no means quiet. I can hear it through the headphones. I’m at my desk trying, and failing to work. The playlist is on its fourth loop. I’m getting restless. I swivel round in my seat with one sharp movement. He does not budge.

“You said you were over Nancy three weeks ago. What’s changed?” My voice is more bitter and clipped than I intended it to be. As expected there’s nothing but a shrug. His gaze remains fixed on my textured bedroom ceiling. His eyes are unblinking.

This is killing me. I think, snatching up the little stack of matches and lucky strikes in my inkwell and heading for the open window.

***

It’s been a month since the Nancy incident and Harrington is talking again. I’ll never say it out loud but god is it nice to see that grin again. Robin Buckley ruins it, as per, by greeting us with a “How are you lovebirds doing?” And a sly grin, to which Steve screws up his nose. “Gross, Robin, seriously.” I wince.

He’s still got the odd quiet moment; He’ll he spaced out and when I hit him with a “Hey, Steve-o, what-cha thinkin’?” He looks at me, purses his lips into some semblance of what’s supposed to be a reassuring smile, shakes his head and says “It’s nothing.”

Steve didn’t used to “it’s nothing.” Steve used to be a total dick. And I was friends with him anyway because he was all I had. It started out that I was his tutor for English, which he always found funny because I actually am British. He’d ask me when I came to America every week. The same question. It wasn’t to be funny, or clever or even mean. It was because he genuinely couldn’t remember. He’d ask me things about myself and would’ve forgotten by the next week. That was end of middle school, start of high school so I don’t blame him. Prime ‘King Steve’ era, he had lots to be thinking about. And I was nobody.

But he still came round to my house every week. He brought my Mother flowers on her birthday and he “Heya Buddy”-ed my little brother when he came in to see what we were doing. And he got a B plus in that class at the end of semester which was, lightly put, an absolute miracle. And so he kept seeing me. All through high school. All through the girlfriends and the basketball tournaments and the pep rallies. He somehow kept up his real American high school experience and me. At the same time. I guess that’s why I was so fond of Steve “the hair” Harrington before he became the babysitter. He never did give me much, but it was always just enough.

And now look at us. Here we are, Nineteen years old and openly best friends. We’re at somebody’s College Party. (I do the classes, Steve does the parties.) There are benches in the Frat house garden and Steve is lying across one, semi passed out, hand drooped and withered on his wrist like a dried rose on its stalk. His favourite song is playing on stereo inside, ‘Object of my Desire’ by Starpoint. Total shit. Completely typical that he’s missing it. He’s utterly plastered. I’m sitting on the floor facing him, smoking, stone-cold sober. I’ve never been one for partying. Steve likes to tease me for it, calls me Grandma. I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s because my Dad is an alcoholic. He’d only feel needlessly bad, I don’t want that.

I look at the way the light from inside falls on his face, casting its deep amber glow across his features. I look at the outline of his nose, and the way his eyelashes graze the skin on his cheek. I look at the way his lips part and the way the moles on his face are dotted like sparse freckles. I watch the way his brow creases like he’s having a nightmare; it makes him look troubled. I reach out my hand to soothe him, to smooth the gathered skin there.

All of a sudden he stirs, mumbling, groaning. I jump back, retracting my hand like lightning. He murmurs my name as he settles back into slumber and it sounds like honey on his lips. That is, before he lets out the most unholy snore I’ve ever heard in my life, at which I giggle like a little girl, and slump back against the plant pot at my spine as the song changes into something marginally more acceptable.

***

It’s the beginning of winter now, my birthday was weeks ago. Steve takes me skating on Lover’s Lake. I try not to think anything of the name. It’s just a coincidence. He plays Daryl Hall and John Oates all the way there in the car. It’s unbearable, I almost ask him to turn it off. That is before he starts singing along, and I erupt in laughter. We’re still laughing when we get out of the car at the lake. Once my skates are on I look to him. He’s standing and ready to go, but skateless.

“Aren’t you putting your skates on?” I ask him, tilting my head to the side.

He smiles, looking serene. “I thought it would be sensible to watch you, make sure you don’t drown.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You are a liability you know.” He’s joking but I can sense the anxiety in his voice. I’ve known him too long for him to be able to hide it. I reach out for him, letting my touch rest gently on his arm. He shivers with what’s presumably the cold.

“Steve, look at me.”

There’s a second before he looks.

“It’s done. He’s gone. It’s over.”

“I know.” He replies. I can tell he’s disregarding everything I say, so I huff and skate off with one languid movement. I can hear him pottering after me.

We skate for a while, the cold nipping at our cheeks. His go apple-shaped and rosy, his eyes glassy and wide. It makes me grin. He grins back. I love seeing him happy again.

Quite suddenly I give a start, my eyes widening as I’m propelled backwards and down, tumbling, falling. Steve goes white and lets out a yelp, reaching for me. He catches me by the shoulders just as I hit the Ice, pulling me to him so forcefully my back nearly snaps in two.

“Jesus, woah woah Steve.” I exclaim, waving my arms. “It’s okay, it’s alright, I just fell.” I’m reaching for him. My arms hook themselves around his neck. I can feel how erratically he’s breathing. He lets out a whimper and scoops me up like I’m dying, clinging onto me. I go to run my hands through his hair to soothe him and he doesn’t even swat me off, that’s how distressed he is. He practically drags me across the ice and manhandles me back to the car. Neither of us say a word as he drives me home.

***

It’s the New Year now, 1987. Steve’s music taste hasn’t improved with age. Neither has the fact that I’m, begrudgingly, in love with him. He appears at my door first thing in the morning on New Year’s Day looking distinctly rough with a lump of coal in hand. Morrissey’s new-ish single is playing on my record player. I pretend not to notice as he screws up his nose at it.

“I’ve come to be your foot first.” He says with what I presume is supposed to be a dashing grin.

“My first foot.” I correct him.

“Yeah your foot first, whatever.” He barges his way past me into my apartment. When he’s in my bedroom he turns to me and wiggles his eyebrows.

“You have now officially got good luck for the rest of the year.”

“Let’s bloody hope so.” I murmur under my breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

***

We’re in the supermarket and I’m gathering up the courage to tell him. One of his songs are playing on the loudspeakers, I don’t know which one it is. I don’t care either. My hands are sweating. I’m going to say it. Here goes nothing. I open my mouth. And then Robin appears like a phantom apparition from nowhere with her supermarket uniform on. Shit.

“Evening lovebirds.” She grins. He sighs, and my heart gives a hopeful leap when he doesn’t berate her, only tiredly asks her where the maple syrup is. I pretend not to notice the excited wink Robin shoots him, or the smug look on her face that says ‘I knew he’d come around’. But he hasn’t come around. Not yet anyway.

***

Steve drives me home, changing the cassette in his car before opening the doors and getting out with me. It’s raining like a fucking monsoon. We make a mad dash to the porch together, jackets over heads, laughing, pushing, splashing. Until we’re in the dry. We’re breathing hard, ghosts of laughs still etched somewhere on our features, but falling fast. Steve looks at the ground and chuckles nervously. I watch a raindrop caress the straight line of his nose and fall onto his bottom lip. My thumb twitches at my side.

“Did I ever tell you about that time Nancy got stuck in a thunderstorm with a pink dress on?” He chuckles again. Something within me falls and shatters. I’m rifling through my head to find the ability within myself to act nonchalant. I manage a tight smile, but Steve seems to notice he’s said something wrong before he even has to read my expression.

“I didn’t mean-“

“It’s fine.” I move to open the door.

“No wait, I’m sorry, let me just-“ he’s moving after me. I wish he’d go away. I’m trying desperately to get away from him before I start crying.

He takes a gentle hold of my upper arm, and mutters my name, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth once, softly, in apology.

I’m turning slowly, tearful. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t pretend.

He looks at me and sighs, wiping one tear away with his thumb and then leaning in to kiss away the other. I’m a bit startled by this, confused. Even more baffled when I realise he’s sliding his hands up both of my arms and cradling me against his chest, hands holding my head to him.

“Why is it so easy for you to believe I’m in love with anyone else but you?” He asks me with a sigh.

I sniffle. “What?”

He sighs again, deeply, and pulls away, hands on either side of my face.

“What are we gonna do with you.” He smiles at my expression.

“Steve-“

He hushes me easily. Kisses my forehead, the bridge of my nose, the tip, and finally his lips fold against mine. They dance around one another until we’re comfortable enough for them to just meet.

“I love you and your shitty songs.” He murmurs against them.

I just laugh and look up at Steve Harrington, because I have never been so in love with anyone in my life, let alone someone with such blatantly awful taste in music.

[sserpente]

A/N: Heyho there my lovelies! I’m finally back! I missed posting so much! This Imagine is based on a TikTok I found and what can I say? It inspired me! After this, next up, will be the 20k Special! Enjoy everyone!

Words: 3205 Warnings: colour-blindness

“What if I never find him?” You murmured, glancing at the fruit bowl with a saddened expression. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. To you, they were all different shades of grey. Dull and boring, like you had been sucked into a 30s black-and-white film. Only you didn’t get a cheesy romance out of it.

You had been born with what doctors today would call a ‘remarkably rare, complicated and fascinating condition’, for you had lost all of your colour vision at the age of twelve. You still remembered what the world had looked like before—bright, rich, intense—then someone flicked a switch overnight and all you could still see was grey, grey, grey and greyer. The colours would only ever come back to you once you found the love of your life—your soulmate.

A sigh escaped your lips. Only a few people still existed with this… defect and to make things worse, you had had no idea you were one of them. Not until your twelfth birthday. Society admired and pitied you all the same and yet, being a hopeless romantic, at the end of the day, you longed to finally fall in love.

Tony chuckled. “Heads up. You’re too young to worry about settling down anyway.” He responded cheerfully and pointed at you with a screwdriver in hand. He had been trying to fix the dishwasher for a solid twenty minutes now and for a man who had built himself a pretty much indestructible suit that could fly, it was utterly amusing he couldn’t figure out why it had stopped working.

You were not an Avenger, mind you. The sole reason you were, as of right now, in the Avengers’ kitchen munching on grey chocolate chips was that your best friend, who in turn was friends with Clint’s wife, had managed to flood your shared flat over the weekend. It was utterly inhabitable now and it would take quite a while for the landlord to get it all dried up again—and since insurance would not cover the cost for staying in a hotel, for the time being, Clint’s wife had suggested you’d stay with them—right until Tony Stark had shown up and you had graciously offered you’d come hang out at the Avengers Tower. Okay, technically you had begged him but either way and needless to say, you had jumped at the opportunity and somehow even hoped that you would learn some dirty superhero secrets—but so far, nothing. Nothing but what superheroes did when they were not out and about saving the world. Truth be told, seeing Thor in Hello Kitty pyjamas and witnessing Natasha Romanoff of all people scream watching an Asian horror film had its perks but you had somehow expected for them to be called in for an urgent mission where they required a skill only you had and then they would rely on your help and you would fight and become an Avenger and… your fanfiction had always sounded too good to be true.

“Are you still there? How is that fruit bowl so interesting?” Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you blinked.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that…”

“Tony?” It was Bruce who interrupted you two, peeking his head into the kitchen almost timidly. You waved at him and he nodded, yet he failed to reciprocate your smile. Uh-Oh.

“Did something happen?”

The scientist nodded. “You might wanna put on your suit.”

“What happened?”

Bruce pursed his lips. “We’ve located Loki.”

-

Your eyes were still widened by the time you rushed after Tony even after he had told you explicitly (three times, to be exact) to stay put and hide until he had been put in custody.

The Loki. God of Mischief, Thor’s brother, Frost Giant, the I-tried-to-take-over-the-planet-guy. It was exciting, somehow, meeting a villain and oh, would it fuel you for your fan fiction. You almost bumped straight into Thor when they all came to a halt all of a sudden, his body a wall of flesh and muscle and making you grunt in pain—you might as well have hit a brick wall. With his hammer in hand, he ensured no one would approach his dangerous brother closely enough for him to try anything funky.

But the fact that Loki was even more handsome in person and the first villain you ever saw in person when he turned around the corner with a proud and arrogant expression on his face despite his shackles, was not what startled you to the core.

All of a sudden, there were colours. Everywhere.

Your lips parted, the impact of all the pigmentation around you making you dizzy. Loki’s armour was black, his cape was green, his eyes were blue, and his hair reminded you of the plumage of a raven. And your surroundings... The compound was silver now, the sceptre they had taken from him golden. Nauseous, you held on to Thor’s muscly arm for support. The God of Thunder frowned in concern. His eyes were blue too, his hair blonde, his cape red… too… many… colours. You suppressed a gag, overwhelmed by the sudden return of your colour vision.

“Are you okay?” Thor asked.

“G-guys… I can see colours.”

Every single head in the room, including Loki’s, turned in your direction so fast you flinched. Tony’s face was the first to fall in response.

“You are joking, right?”

Mutely, you shook your head. Your eyes locked with Loki’s, electricity rippling through you when they did. His blue irises froze you from the inside out, like each and every one of your limbs failed to resist the magnetic pull you felt towards him, and your cells longed for you to throw yourself into his arms—despite the fact he was handcuffed... and for a good reason too. Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to look away.

Loki was your soulmate. That was impossible; and quite frankly, the god in question appeared to be thinking the exact same thing.

You chewed on your lower lip, anything to distract yourself from your predicament all the while everyone was still staring at you like you had grown two more heads.

“Take him to the cells, I’ll stay with her.” Clint’s hand on your shoulder did little to console you. Part of you still barely resisted the urge to start at Loki like a succubus, the other… the other was terrified and meant to hide in the archer’s embrace.

You could feel Loki’s blue gaze still resting on you when he led you away from the scene, staring daggers into your back and rendering you speechless until you were finally out of sight and Clint shook your shoulder gently.

“Are you sure it’s not one of the security guards that helped bring him in?”

“No… no, I saw them first. Loki was behind them. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it but somehow, Loki was in colour first, you know what I mean? First him and then, a split second later, everything else was colourful too.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

“Do you still see in colour now?”

“Of course I do.” Clint sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“So what happens if you don’t… act on this soulmate thing?”

“Nothing. Nothing happens.” You said.

“So you don’t have to… stay close to Loki or anything?”

“No. Not that I know of. But Clint—“

“Good. Because he might find a way to use you against us. Stay away from him. Thor’ll take him back to Asgard soon enough. All we need to do first is find the Tesseract.”

Your lips were pursed when he turned to check on them and if Loki was wreaking havoc while they were trying to get him imprisoned.

Stay away from him? Of course… it was the most reasonable thing to do. Loki was dangerous, a criminal… but was that right? Now that you had found your soulmate in him?

-

You couldn’t get him out of your head that night. Screw the danger, you had to see him. And eventually, your curiosity and that inexplicable and strange pull you felt towards Loki got the better of you. With a deep breath, you threw your covers back and let your bare feet hit the cold floor before quietly tiptoeing out into the dark and empty hallway.

Your blood was rushing in your ears, making you hear things your paranoia and imagination cooked up to the point your heart was pounding in your chest so hard and fast you feared it might jump right out of your ribcage. No one could know, of course. Clint would positively kill you—he, along with Tony, somewhat considered himself responsible for you here. You couldn’t really blame them. If something happened to you, they’d never forgive themselves. You were an innocent civilian, after all.

And now you had been tossed into the greatest fanfiction yet. Shivering, for the cold slowly crept into your bare skin and through the tanktop and shorts you were wearing to sleep, you finally reached the corridor leading to the elevator. The prison cells, a rather new addition to Stark Tower, were located at the very bottom, the cellar, or… what you preferred to call it, a modern dungeon.

You found Loki with his back turned to you in his cell, looking pale through the glass pane. Your heart skipped a beat when he suddenly spoke up.

“I expected you would find a way to come and see me at some point. I’d dare say the Avengers have taken quite the precautions to keep you as far away from me as possible.” He mused. He lifted his chin, approaching the glass window.

It was quite ridiculous to assume that this tiny and meagre prison would keep the Trickster at bay after everything he had proven to be capable of. If only he wanted to, he could shatter that glass with but a flick of his wrist or break the heavy metal door posing as the only barrier between you.

If you were to just… unlock that door to touch him… it would be so easy. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head to chase the thought away.

“Who are you?” He asked and for just a brief moment, you believed to see genuine interest and curiosity sparkling in his stunning blue eyes.

“No one, really. You already know my name, I presume but that’s all there is. I’m not special—I mean, I don’t have superpowers. I’m just a regular human with a rare condition.”

“Oh, I see. Surely you had not hoped for a criminal of all people to be your soulmate then? A murderer? A monster?” His expression hardened.

Yes. But you were not going to tell him that. He was still the person to have made you see colours again, regardless of who he was and what he had done. There must have been a connection between you, you felt it after all! And you were certain that he felt it too.

“Thor will take me back to Asgard and the great King Odin,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “will surely have me executed. You will never see me again. So do not worry.”

“I don’t want that.” You finally chirped, barely daring to look him in the eye. His gaze was scrutinising and intimidating… almost as if he was able to see right into your soul with but one single glance.

Loki frowned.

“I bet you’re not happy about this, are you?” A desperate scoff escaped your lips. “I’m not sure I am…” You confessed and sat down on the chair in front of the window. It creaked a little under your weight, the unpleasant sound echoing through the empty hallway.

This man right in front of you was not be trusted and yet, the desire to pour your heart out to him was so strong you felt it like a sea of emotions attempting to drown you.

“You know ever since my twelfth birthday I wondered when I would finally meet my soulmate. Who they would be, what they would be like… and then so many years passed I was beginning to worry I might never see colours again. That I’d be alone and grey for the rest of my life.”

Loki licked his lips and glanced up at you, listening intently to every single word you said.

“Now I met you and they all tell me not to trust you. I mean… I know who you are, I know what you’ve done. I can’t say I’m happy about the fact my soulmate is…” You stopped yourself, breathing in sharply. “What was the universe thinking? You are a god and I’m just… me. We live light-years apart!”

Eventually, after a moment of surprisingly pleasant silence between you, Loki hummed. “The Norns do have interesting ways.” He said, locking his eyes with yours, almost as if he was pondering if… if what? If he could imagine being with you?

“So what should we do? Never speak of it again? Pretend we have never met? I can’t just… come to Asgard with you.” You held your breath when you realised what you were considering here. Loki must have thought the same. He smirked in response—not mockingly but bitterly. “Odin would never allow a mortal on Asgard. If I was to survive my trial, that is.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t care you’re a criminal right now, I just found my soulmate, and I don’t want to lose him again right away, regardless of what happens between us.”

With a start, his face fell. “Nothing will happen between us. That would be unnecessarily cruel, would it not? Your life in the nine realms is but a heartbeat compared to mine.”

“So… this is goodbye?”

Loki hesitated. You noticed by the way his lips slightly parted without a single sound escaping them just yet.

“Yes. This is goodbye.”

-

The fruit bowl had become your new best friend. In the morning, tired and rather absent, you sat at the kitchen table holding on to a steaming mug of coffee all the while studying the different colours of the fruit before you like a complicated Maths formula.

“Did you have a good chat last night?” Clint barked at you when he entered the room, skipping the ‘Good morning’.

“Huh?”

“With Loki?” He probed, raising his eyebrows in an I-already-know-what-you’ve-done manner.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said, shaking your head and focusing your gaze on the fruit bowl again. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. In colour.

You flinched when Tony spoke your name. “We saw the footage on our security cameras. You sneaked to his cell last night knowing fully well why you should stay away from him, especially with… with… you know.”

Fuck… the security cameras. You had completely forgotten about those! Of course the legendary Tony Stark would have had security cameras installed all over the damn place!

Busted, you shrugged your shoulders as nonchalantly as you could muster. “I just wanted to talk him. I had to talk to him. I know what you’re all thinking—that he’s evil and brutal and cruel and ruthless… and… and you’re probably right? I… I don’t even know but… he is still my soulmate. I can see colours again because of him for Fuck’s sake! I can’t just… ignore that.”

“I get it. We don’t know what it must feel like. But it’s for the best. We don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I am his soulmate, too. He wouldn’t dare hurt me. You know maybe he’s not the monster you all think he is.”

“Are you saying that because you know him so well after last night or because that is what you want to believe?”

Both. “I just… have a feeling.”

“Right.” Tony clapped his hands. Your name left his lips almost like a plea. “You have to trust us.”

Thor nodded. “Loki is dangerous. You should stay away from him at least until we know he is not still plotting the domination of your planet.”

“What do you mean ‘at least until’? You can stop staying away from him when he’s back on Asgard and out of your reach.” Tony snapped.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe.” Steve intervened. You sighed.

“You know what? I’m getting a headache and I’m still tired, so I’m gonna go back to bed.” That wasn’t even a lie—well, at least the fatigue bit wasn’t. Besides, the blackout curtains in the room Tony let you stay in were heaven-sent.

That was until a loud tumult in the Tower woke you up again, even though you were not sure anymore you had actually fallen asleep once your head hit the soft pillow.

“W—“ Your scream of protest was muffled by a cool palm covering your mouth. You struggled briefly, ripping your eyes wide open in a weak attempt to make out who was assaulting you in the comforting darkness of your room when you suddenly heard a soothing voice shushing you.

“It’s me…”

“L-Loki?” You choked out when he removed his hand again. “Did you… did you break out of your cell?”

“It would seem so. Come.”

“What?”

He tilted his head. “I don’t have much time.”

You stood, throwing the covers back when he already reached for your hand and held it tightly, pulling you with him into the hallway and towards one of the more hidden exists of Stark Tower, a flight of stairs illuminated only by emergency lights.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I am proving to you that I am more than just a criminal.”

“Oh… but… um… where are we going?”

Loki smirked. Your eyes widened when he pulled out the Tesseract seemingly out of nowhere, its blue light glowing brightly in the dark and throwing artistic shadows on his face.

“Hold on tight.”

“Loki…”

The God of Mischief pulled you close, making you gasp. Your chest hit his, his arm wrapping around your waist. With his face only inches from yours, you could feel his warm breath on your lips, and suddenly longed to kiss him.

“You are my soulmate. I am not leaving you behind.”

“What happened to ‘goodbye’?” You chirped.

Loki tilted his head almost threateningly. “You are mine. Don’t you think I wanted to leave this place without looking back?” His expression softened. “But I couldn’t. Because of you.” And you might just be the only woman to ever love me in this way, he added silently.

“B-but… Y-you said Odin will never allow me on Asgard and… and…”

“I never said we were going to Asgard, now was I?”

Your lips parted. Could you trust him? The stranger who had finally made you see colours again? If you told him No, would he let go of you? Would he let you run to Tony and Clint and Nat so they could protect you from him? Swallowing thickly, you met his intense blue gaze and nodded.

Loki smirked and winked. “You are in for an adventure.” And you knew he wasn’t lying. Next thing you knew, you were both hurtled through space and into a shared future.

-

A/N: ☕

[heliads]

I Wish You Could Be Honest Chapter Nine: In My Sights

HYDRA didn’t die out when it failed to take down S.H.I.E.L.D. during the time of the Winter Soldier. Now, top enemy agent Y/N L/N has been sent to finish the job by killing Steve Rogers. When she’s captured by S.H.I.E.L.D., she doesn’t know what to expect, but it certainly doesn’t involve Captain America himself trying to win her over.

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You are lying alone in your room when you finally make the choice. You’ve been dancing around it ever since you first saw Steve in the HYDRA holding cell, perhaps even longer, but you can’t avoid the truth anymore. You have to break him out, even if it kills you. You owe him that much.

It’s just– this isn’t simply about Steve, isn’t it? This is about every value you have ever cherished, every dream you ever had about the kind of work that you do here. You gave yourself promises about making the world over in a better, brighter light, and for the first time, you are finally accepting that those dreams were never real at all.

They were figments of a new recruit’s imagination, someone who had just graduated S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy yet had already seen too much of the world’s spies. You knew there was nothing good in any organization that gave its young people a gun in each hand and a healthy dose of cynicism, and you were sick of it.

When Alexander Pierce told you that you could have a way out, that HYDRA could be the way you still made a difference for the better, you wanted to believe him more than anything. You threw yourself wholeheartedly into your new life as a double agent, and you believed in what you did so badly that it didn’t even hurt you to turn traitor on the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. that had once been your family.

You can hide everything behind a solid wall of apathy, but Steve broke it down eventually. You shouldn’t have let him do it, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. Some part of you wonders if you wanted him to do it all along, if from the second that you failed to kill him, you were practically begging Steve to tear down all of your lies. He’s the only one who could ever drag you out of the shadows and into the cold, harsh light of the truth. All of that, and you could never hate him for it.

Still, it hurts to say goodbye to it all, every one of the wishes you made and lies you told yourself about how HYDRA was so different, how everyone was wrong when they said that you were a monster to betray your own. 

You close your eyes, and let a tear splash down your cheeks. This is for the girl you were, the one who let herself believe that there wasn’t a shred of naivete left in her, that she was unstoppable, utterly without heart or conscience. You may be the best of the best when it comes to the espionage market, but your most effective lies were always told to yourself.

It hurts, doesn’t it, to cut away this part of yourself? Breaking Steve out, and thus leaving HYDRA, is the only valid option. You would not be able to live with yourself if you went back to your normal job, if you embraced HYDRA missions as if you hadn’t seen firsthand the kinds of people they truly represented.

That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt to kill the past. You can’t break it off completely, despite your best efforts, and the memories will haunt you for every shot from a gun, but at least it will be over. At least the mistakes will stop being made, and you can learn from yourself once again.

It’s a new day, both in your mind and in the real world. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and methodically pull on your uniform. This might be the last time you ever walk through the doors of the HYDRA complex like this, as a friend, as someone who will not betray everyone over and over again until they die.

You make a few adjustments to your normal routine before you attempt to find Steve again. First, you make sure that there’s a vehicle parked near one of the doors, and you’ve got the keys in your pocket. Second, you grab an extra HYDRA uniform from the storeroom. All perfectly normal activities for someone who spent so long in S.H.I.E.L.D. captivity. 

No one here has any cause to doubt you. Why would they? A few agents even smile at you as you walk past, faces contorted with pride and envy. You are their symbol, their goal, and you’re about to leave this place for good.

It is precisely because you’ve spent so much time at HYDRA that you know the exact moment to strike. There is a three hour period in the mornings, during which time Baron von Strucker begins his daily meetings. The first of these meetings is always the most important, and typically revolves around which ventures failed during the previous night. You can pretty much guess the state of affairs of all of HYDRA based on who’s attending the first conference. That’s why security cameras are disabled for a half hour window to allow everyone to meet Strucker without being spotted.

Security cameras such as the ones in the holding cells will also be dysfunctional during this time. It’s a terrible system, one you’ve warned Strucker against for years, but he never listens. He says it’s much more important to never give S.H.I.E.L.D. the opportunity to see you coming. For once, though, you enjoy it. It’ll give you a chance to act.

You walk briskly towards the incarceration block, folded uniform tucked under one arm. No one stops you, assuming you are under orders to see Steve yet again. The agents usually tasked to monitor the interrogations haven’t shown up yet, as expected, so no one is watching or cares long enough to question you. The guard opens the door to Steve’s cell, and then you’re inside.

Steve looks startled at your sudden arrival, but you don’t give him time to question you. “We have five minutes to get out of here. Just do what I say and we can escape.”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Why would you ever let me out? I thought this was your place. Your new world.”

You shake your head tersely as you start to unlatch his restraints. “It was always a dream, Steve. At some point I had to wake up.”

You free one of his arms and start to move on to the next, but he catches you by the wrist. “Wait. What about you? They’ll know who broke me out.”

You smile bitterly. “I’m not planning on coming back, and I’m even better at disappearing than I am at killing. You won’t be traced, that I can promise.”

Steve frowns. “That wasn’t what I was worried about.”

There’s a whisper there, a secret. He was worried about you. You don’t have time to think about that, though, you’re already short on time as it is. You undo the last of his restraints and thrust the HYDRA uniform at him.

“Put this on as quickly as you can. We need to move while the guards are being switched out.”

You turn around so as to allow Steve at least a little privacy, and move towards the door. Only one guard is standing outside, bobbling listlessly on his heels as he waits for the next agent to relieve him of his post. He starts to turn towards you when you step into the hallway, but he doesn’t react quickly enough to avoid being knocked unconscious.

You drag the guard’s limp body into the cell, and Steve looks at you askance as he pulls on his jacket.

You make a face at his startled expression. “Oh, don’t give me that look. He’s not dead, just asleep.”

Steve chuckles quietly. “In all fairness, it wouldn’t have been the least realistic assumption to make.”

You straighten the dark baseball cap over his head before you can stop yourself, angling it more over his eyes. “This might work, actually.”

You direct Steve to stand outside the door to the cell, posturing just as the guard would. You step into the cell to make sure the agent’s body isn’t noticeable from the hall, and when you walk back outside, the next guard is coming to take over Steve’s supposed shift.

The new guard nods at you. “Get anything from him?”

You shake your head. “He’s got a solid poker face, that one. I can’t decide whether it’s because he’s a good liar or because he just hasn’t got that much going on up there, you know.”

You gesture towards your head as you say the last part, fighting a smile at the indignant look on Steve’s face. 

The other guard doesn’t seem to notice anything, though, and just shrugs. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

You nod, and head away with Steve. The new guard is already pulling out his phone, no more invested in stringent surveillance than a child.

As the two of you walk, Steve leans over towards you, his breath hot on your neck. “I want it known for the record that I have a great deal going on ‘up there,’ just so you know.”

You smirk. “You don’t have to tell me twice. I just wanted to get that guard off of our backs.”

Steve’s lips thin in mock irritation. “Of course. I should have known.”

Your smile isn’t typical for an agent of your stature, but you can’t seem to shake it. You and Steve head back through the twisting corridors of the HYDRA complex, slowly but surely getting closer to the transportation center. You’ve got a truck booked under someone else’s name, and you need to get to it before someone figures out that you’re not supposed to be leaving the base with someone who looks eerily like America’s favorite supersoldier.

Things are going surprisingly well, though. Too well. You can’t keep your eyes from shifting from corner to corner, certain that someone’s going to jump out and demand to know just where you and Steve are going. With every step you take, you feel your nerves jumping, higher and higher until you may burst.

Steve’s hand settles on the small of your back, posed in the guise of helping you up a set of stairs. “Take it easy, agent.”

You whisper to him under your breath. “Am I that obvious?”

He shakes his head once. “Only to me.”

It appears that you weren’t the only one memorizing changes in appearance back in that S.H.I.E.L.D. interrogation cell; whatever you learned from Steve, he was picking up in you. You’re not sure whether it scares you that he knows so much of you, or terrified that he’s the only one who might have taken the time to figure it out.

The door to the transportation center is up ahead, and you swipe your ID card to let the two of you inside. You start down a long warehouse filled with planes and trucks and cars of all types, anything for an agent in need of a getaway or infiltration scheme. 

You only make it halfway down the central walkway before someone slips out from the shadow of a plane, walking with purposeful steps until they’re blocking your path. After all this time spent dreading your imminent reveal, you’re almost relieved to see Baron von Strucker standing there, hands clasped in front of him as he dons that familiar reproachful expression of a teacher disappointed by his favorite student. You’ve been waiting for this since the moment you made the decision to free Steve. At least it’s happening so you have to dread it no longer.

Strucker speaks, his voice carrying easily across the vast hangar. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you leave, Y/N? We are HYDRA. We do not forgive those who trespass against us so easily that we would allow them to corrupt our best agents.”

Your heart is pounding a warrior’s drumbeat from where it’s trapped inside your ribs. “He didn’t corrupt me, Strucker, you did. Sooner or later, you had to know that I’d figure out your lies.”

He spreads his hands, chuckling softly. “But did you really figure us out? If you had any idea the kind of hold we have over you, how much we know about your every movement, you would never even think about trying to go. There is no running, Y/N, not from us. There is nowhere you can go that we cannot find you.”

You laugh, a terrified, half mad sort of sound that leaves your lips on flighty wings and soars up to the rafters of the darkened warehouse. “Maybe, but I can try anyway.”

Steve glances over at you, and you nod once. It’s time to go. The two of you start to run, hurtling towards the edge of the hangar. You’re outrunning time, history, everything you’ve done here, every drop of blood you’ve ever spilled in pursuit of a dream that died long ago. Nothing here is real, but you’re done, you’re gone. There is nothing that could ever pull you back.

Agents start to spill out of the branching pathways, materializing out of the space underneath the underbellies of planes and walking out from behind parked rows of cars. There are too many to fight, but that has never mattered. You’re getting out, no matter the odds. 

They descend upon you in a swarm, and you fight hard, harder than you ever have before. Your guns are hot in your hands, sparks crackling to life before your eyes. Blood spatters the ground, some yours, some foreign. It’s not enough to slow you down. Gradually, inexplicably, you and Steve might make it to the end of the warehouse. 

There are too many, though. You’re going to run out of bullets before you get to the edge, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You reach for something, anything, on your utility belt, some Hail Mary shot you can use to get yourself out of this.

Your hand settles on a grenade. It’s all you have left. You shove the closest agent away from you, and he lands with a sickening thud on a wrist that’s now likely broken. You hold up the grenade, and a few feet away from you, Steve meets your eyes.

“Do it,” he shouts from across the baying sea of agents.

You hesitate. “It might kill us.”

His fist crashes down on someone, and comes back up bloody. “We’re dead anyways.”

You nod, and before you can stop yourself, pull the pin. You throw it as far away as you can, towards the waves of agents starting to re-enter the fight. For a moment, the world hangs in perilous balance, everyone staring at the metal as it goes, and then everything goes up in flames.

The explosion knocks you off your feet, and you slam to the ground, rolling a short distance away. When you pick yourself up, it’s as if the hangar has been cordoned off by smoke and flame. You can barely see anything else except yourself.

Your ears are ringing, and you look around frantically, searching for any sign that someone else is coming to kill you. You landed with your gun in your hand, or perhaps you drew it after hitting the ground. You’ll never know for sure. You think you’re bleeding somewhere, everywhere, and the barrel of your gun searches the room for a way to make it all stop.

You whip around one last time and find yourself staring past your pistol at Steve. He’s getting up slowly, and after a moment, you realize that he’s not moving cautiously because he was injured during the explosion, it’s because he’s scared that you’re going to shoot him. To be honest, you’re scared that you’re going to do the exact same thing.

A voice sounds from beside you, and Strucker walks through the rolling smoke until he’s by your side. “Take the shot, L/N. Finish the mission.”

This is what you’ve been trained to do all this time. You’re an assassin, a hired gun. Nothing has ever been easier than pulling the trigger, no matter who’s in your sights. You know what killing Steve would mean. Even despite the fact that you tried to turn your back on S.H.I.E.L.D., by completing this one last task, Strucker would let you return. You know that for certain.

All you have to do is pull the trigger. You can go back to the life you’ve always led. It would be safe. If you did it, you could lie to yourself about everything else. You would let yourself drown in the self-assured certainty that you are in the right, and you always will be. No one else will ever be able to change your mind, because nobody else will ever be Steve Rogers, and you will never dare to let yourself think about him again.

Steve doesn’t say a word. His eyes flicker shut for a long moment to ward off the smoke, then he forces them open. You can see the way he’s framing this scene now. His last sight will be of you. This is the way that it has always been.

A single tear drips off of your cheek. You don’t hear it fall. You don’t even know when you started to cry.

The gun goes off, but not at Steve. Instead, you take aim at Strucker, catching him in the leg so he won’t be able to follow you. This is your choice, done now, done forever. You will not go back to being his prized pupil. This is your test, and at last, you’ve passed it with flying colors. No more of this.

Then Steve’s grabbing your arm, pulling you forward with him. You manage to drag the keys out of your pocket and hand them over. Steve doesn’t let you go, not until you’re both forcing yourself into the front seats of the car. He’s driving. You can barely focus long enough to realize that he’s slamming the armored front of the vehicle through a quickly closing exit in the warehouse, and then you’re on the road, free of everything that has corrupted you for far too long.

You stare at your bloody hands. Strucker isn’t dead, you know that for certain. You didn’t try to kill him. You could, perhaps, some day in the future when you have a better grasp on the true sins of everything you’ve done for him. Right now, you’re mourning the girl you were, and that requires all of your attention.

Steve pulls off the road after about an hour, ditching the truck. The two of you head to a rental car store and grab a new, hopefully not trackable, mode of transportation, then repeat the process a couple more times before you’re forced to take a break at a local rest stop. Manhattan itself is only about an hour away.

Steve sits opposite you at a picnic table, hidden in the shade and out of clear view from the road. From here on out, there’s nothing HYDRA can do to get either of you back. The two of you have scarcely exchanged more than a few sentences for directions and grave necessity, mostly due to sheer exhaustion.

That’s why Steve doesn’t have it in him to question why you’re standing up and saying something about checking the road to see if anyone’s following you. He watches you disappear back through the trees and around the corner of a local gas station, and then you’re gone from view.

You do not head back, not after that. You walk past the rest stop and into a local town, and keep going even after your feet turn numb. Steve will not find you. HYDRA will not find you. By the time Steve realizes that you’ve been gone for far too long, you’ll be out of his reach. He will shake his head, and drive himself the rest of the way to the Avengers complex, and no matter how hard he tries to search, he’ll never be able to locate you. You weren’t lying about how good you were at disappearing. 

This is the best way for it to go, after all. You have no place at HYDRA, not after you realized the truth about them. S.H.I.E.L.D. would never take you, not after what you did. Steve could never be with someone like you, not with all the ways you ruin his perfect character. You can’t let him tear himself to pieces as he tries to rearrange his life to fit you in.

This is it, then, the best sacrifice you’ll ever make. Once night falls upon the road and you’ve managed to check and double check your hotel room, you let your shoulders shake with the force of what you’ve just lost. An entire lifetime is behind you, and you have no plans for what is to come other than the fact that you need to stay free.

Most of all, though, you wish you could talk to Steve, tell him why you had to leave him like that. He would never let you go if you tried to say goodbye, which is precisely why it has to end as it did. That doesn’t mean that you don’t hate it, though.

Somewhere out there in the night, Steve knows that he is alone. You, then, are responsible for everyone that leaves him from this moment out. He will hate you in every goodbye, and you will bear it without even knowing. Such is the burden of being the one who leaves.

You shut your eyes, and at last, sleep allows you to forget your burdens. All the same, you don’t think you’ll be able to truly rest for quite some time.

series/marvel tag list: @maluisamarvelfan123, @navs-bhat, @faiirybread, @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @caswinchester2000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙴

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

Oh, lawd! i have to post everything again! Send me all your energy. If you wanna be tagged, just inform me!

Also, I’ll be changing the story by a little, (or by a lot, idk) from my previous version.

You were feeling like John Travolta from the music video of Stayin’ Alive. Vibing to your own rhythm, living your own freedom. Attending college miles away from your hometown, you were the captain of your ship. Though you loved your parents more than anything, you were glad for the freedom granted upon you.

Your Freshmen year had just begun and you had already made a few friends. But what you didn’t want to accept just yet was your crush on one of them, Bucky. With his steely blue eyes and boyish charm, even a goddess might fall for him, and you were just a mortal. You were simply happy with being friends as you believed he would never like you and well, a little crush never hurt nobody.  

Completing your shift in a local bookstore, just outside the campus, you were walking back, lost in your own thoughts. What caught your attention was a group of howling high schoolers; from the look of it, they were barely a year to two younger than you. A group of tall and popular kids were bullying a skinny, helpless dude; ufff the usual cliché you thought to yourself. What you failed to notice though was his bleeding nose.  

You were a kind soul, always helping others, but you were no fool. All alone in an unknown town, you weren't going to confront the burly teens who were twice your own size. After giggling and cracking some stupid jokes on the poor dude trying to impress a girl, they left him and that’s when you noticed all the blood. You quickly crossed the road and walked towards him. He seemed smaller than he was as he was crouching down and trying to rub all the blood.

“Hey! Pinch your nose, don’t disturb it by rubbing.” you said while bending down. “Uhh, okay... thanks!” he looked at you with big doe eyes and you were utterly mesmerized by the blue oceans he had for his eyes. “Do you.. Do you need something else kid? Where do you live?” you asked giving him a candy and your water bottle. “I’m no kid!” he exclaimed and you flinched.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You are helping me and here I am shouting at you.” You could clearly see remorse in his eyes and you wondered why would someone hurt him? “yeah, yeah.. It's Okay... now have this candy, the sugar will help you feel better.” you said with a soft smile. “thank you so much... and by the way I live two streets across. I mean I can go by myself, I'm a grown-up.. But...” he trailed off and you helped him get up.

“I’m Steve” he tried his best to smile and you followed by sharing your own name. And with that his chatter train began, he explained that he was just trying to help another girl getting bullied, when the bullies decided to change their target and chase Steve instead.

“you should wear your own mask first and then help others wear theirs.” you quipped and instantly bit your tongue. “Hmm, what?” he asked genuinely curious. “what I meant is that you did what is correct and very brave, but sometimes you gotta think for yourself too. But these are just my thoughts.” you shrugged. “I’ll remember that.” he said with a genuine expression. And after a million thank yous he finally went in his house. By the size of his house, he seemed rich and you wondered maybe this wasn't that cliché.  

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

The next day, you were walking back the same road, when you thought of Steve. He really was a kind and sweet person. This world needed more of people like him. And just then you saw him smiling brightly and waving at you, his nose bandaged. He had a huge box in his hand.

“Heyyyyy! Thank you for helping me yesterday. So I just... kinda got this as a ... a token of appreciation. I considered you might like donuts, so I got you this.” He said rubbing his nape. His cheeks had become so red he looked like a ripe tomato. “well, if you haven’t already given me diabetes by saying so many thank yous, after eating sooo many donuts I’ll surely get it.” At that you both chuckled and the atmosphere became lighter. As you picked a donut, he looked at you with such admiration you thought you would melt then and there.

Suddenly with a stern expression you asked “what if it’s drugged?” His eyes widened and he stuttered, “I... I would never do that ...” he looked down and you thought he might cry. “hey waittt.. don’t get so sad.. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I was just joking. I have this really bad habit of saying things when I shouldn’t. God I just ruined everything.” You just made a mental note not to joke around him, he seemed to be quite emotional. Though it was going to be difficult to tame your tongue. “don’t be. I just take things too literally.... anyway let’s have some donuts what say?” He said with such shine in his eyes you wondered whether he was sad just a moment before.

You both walked up to your university campus, munching on donuts. You both shared things about yourselves. You told him how you were passionate in becoming a doctor. He on the other hand talked about his struggles in studying. “will you help me? You are so smart and bright, will you help me study if I have a doubt or something?” he asked giving his big doe eyes.

You weren’t going to agree at first, you had just met him a day ago. But after looking in those calm blue pools of his eyes you agreed. Seeing the joy on his face, you wondered whether he just won an Oscar.

What you didn’t know was that Steve had already fallen in love with you, yes love, he was convinced that you were the one for him, his one true love. Not a moment had he been able to think of anything but you since he had met you. You were everything he needed and wanted and much more. He was simply desperate to spend more time with you.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

It had been around six months since you met Steve. Over the time you two had turned out to be best friends. While Steve had fallen even more in love with you, you had fallen hopelessly in love with bucky. While you always told bucky about Steve and vice versa, you never confessed to Steve about your love for Bucky, thus furthermore increasing his hopes. You desperately wished to make Steve and Bucky meet. They were two important people in your life and you more than anything wished that they got together well.  

Today was the day when you decided to arrange a small meet and greet at the park where you and Steve met every day. You and Bucky walked together towards the tree where you usually sat with Steve waiting there for you. You knew both would like each other, but somewhere deep within your gut you were getting a not-so good feeling about this.  

Steve’s eyes lit up seeing you but as they turned to Bucky, it felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of him. You didn’t like that one bit. “Bucky!?” Steve exclaimed in half disappointment and half fear. “You both... you both know each other?” you ask bewildered. You tried chuckling to lighten the mood but by the looks of it they were sworn enemies, but you prayed that you were wrong. “yeah, we know each other a little too well... Uh... We were good friends once.” Steve quietly admitted.

All this time Bucky had his jaw clenched, dragging in a deep breath he began. “I knew it! I knew it would be you, you little fucker! You want to have everything don’t you? Goddammit! I had this feeling it was you but I thought it was too much of a coincidence, but no. fate had to be so cruel.” you were shocked to see Bucky's sudden outburst. You wondered what conspired between the two, as either hadn’t ever mentioned the other.  

You were snapped out of your thoughts with Bucky calling your name. “let’s go. I don’t want to see him even for a minute more and neither do you.” Bucky started pulling your hand but you stopped him “Bucky no. I guess you have some misunderstanding; Steve is a good person. And you don’t get to tell me who to talk to and who to not.”

Suddenly Bucky turned back to Steve, anger written all over his face. “You didn’t tell her, huh, did you? Don’t worry I'll tell her. Steve is the son of Joseph Rogers and he is the freaking Don Corleone of this area. Do you know how my father died? Steve’s father had him killed just because unknowingly he provided shelter to his father’s fugitive. Steve just pretends to be a caring, emotional person but he is a snake behind that mask, so is everyone in his family.” towards the end Bucky was in tears and you were in utter shock. Now that you tried to remember, Steve never really did tell you much about his family. And the fact that Steve wasn’t denying any single allegation made you want to puke your guts out.

“You have taken too much from me. But not this. Not her. Not the woman I love more than anything.” Bucky said it out loud in the heat of the moment. You were too dumbstruck to even blink. Did Bucky just confess that he loved you?  

Bucky turned to you and held your arm with such softness you wondered if he was just now screaming his lungs out at Steve. “I know I can't tell you who to be with, and I promise I never will in the future, but trust me you want to be caught up with him or his family. And still, if you choose him, well then, I can’t be with you.”

You knew you had to make a choice then and there, there was no going back, and you chose Bucky.

[inkandpen22]

The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 4)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader / Topper x Female!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: swearing, angst

Part Summary: You wake up at the Chateau in JJ’s arms. When you receive a urgent call from Topper, you return to the Figure 8, much to JJ’s dismay. 

Masterlist

You wake up to the sound of a faint buzzing. A small groan leaves your throat as you attempt to stretch out your limbs, but are trapped beneath the weight of an arm. Your eyes flicker open and adjust to the golden rays pouring in from the window. JJ doesn't even shift, completely unaware of your moving. You recognize the sound of your phone buzzing and dig around the recliner. You two must've fallen asleep during the movie. Kiara and Pope remain on the floor, sprawled out like starfish. The couch is empty, John B and Sarah are probably in his room. You finally manage to find your phone beneath JJ's hip. You do your best to slide it out without waking him. Slowly, you climb out of the chair, placing JJ's arm down gently. 

“Hello?” You whisper, suppressing a yawn as you step out to the porch to not wake the others. 

“Hey, Princess," Topper's worried voice echoes through the device. "Did I wake you?”

 You settle down on the couch in a ball, shaking your head as if Topper can see you. “No, No, it’s okay," you lie for his sake. "Is everything alright?” 

“It’s Rafe..." he sighs. "He kinda got outta hand last night and he hasn’t been to bed yet. He keeps saying he’s going to go to your house. I don’t think your parents should see him like this.” 

“What?" Your brows scrunch together in confusion. Slowly, the events of last night are creeping back to you. You remember all of it, but some parts are only flashes like photographs. "I’m not even home.” 

“Wait, where are you then?” Topper questions, sounding just as confused as you. 

“I uh... I stayed at Sarah's," you conjure up on a whim. 

“Okay..." he replies, not sounding fully convinced. "well do you think you could stop by my place or something? Rafe won’t shut up until he sees you. Thank God my mom left for Atlanta this morning. I can pick you up if you need.” 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll uh... I’ll borrow Sarah’s car or something. I’ll text you when I’m on my way," you determine. 

“Okay, see you then," Topper agrees, hanging up the phone. 

You drop the device in your lap, resting your forehead against your knees. None of this feels real. What are you even doing here? One minute you and Topper are stumbling out of the locker room and the next you're making out with JJ in a hammock. Holy shit, you made out with JJ in a hammock! Topper is going to kill you! He can't know. No, he can never know. 

“Morning Baby," JJ greets as he steps out onto the porch. He rubs his eyes as he walks over to join you. 

“Morning, sorry that I woke you up,” you apologize. 

"Don't be." He plops down next to you, bringing his arm to rest between your tucked legs. His hand is warm against your exposed knee. A part of you wants to cling to him like a koala, but your mind is also on Topper. "Who was that?” He yawns. 

“Topper," you answer truthfully, though it was hesitant. "Apparently, Rafe is acting out and keeps asking for me. I’m gonna head over there to calm him down a little." 

“Wait, what!" JJ's eyes widen, processing what you said. "By yourself?” 

“JJ, it’s okay! It’s just Topper and Rafe,” you snicker at his dramatic reaction. 

“Yeah! Rafe!" He repeats, turning his body toward you. His arm between your legs moves to your back and is replaced with his free one. "The guy who gave you laced weed, Babe!" 

Your lower lip pouts slightly as you're appreciative of his concern though it's not necessary. Impulsively, you bring your hand to his cheek and he leans into your touch subtly. “It’ll be fine, we’re not going to do anything. I’m just helping out Top. Once we get Rafe to chill I’ll be out of there.” 

“I’m driving,” he names his terms sternly. 

Your lips part as worry starts to build up inside you. “JJ, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I-“ 

“I wasn’t asking," he cuts you off sharply, his lips pressed together. “Either I go with you and wait in the car or you don’t go at all," he offers an ultimatum. 

'Okay, that's hot,' you think to yourself. 

You sit stunned for a second. As much as you hate the name, you're still the Princess of the OBX, no one talks to you like that or gives you ultimatums. Yet, you can't help but be utterly compliant when it comes to JJ Maybank. 

“Okay," you nod, trying your hardest to not blush, but ultimately fail. "As long as there’s no Pogue vs. Kook fistfights," you add to the rules. 

JJ notices your eyes wandering to his lips and leans forward with a smirk. “I can’t make any promises.” 

You grin as JJ brushes his lips against yours, bringing you in for a kiss. When he woke up JJ was nervous that he fucked up last night and that you'd regretted everything. It's just JJ always assuming the worst to avoid disappointment. His arm on you was him testing the waters. After a second, once learning that you're not going to pull away, he deepens the kiss. Your fingers comb through his luscious hair and grip the roots slightly. His hand on your knee steadily glides down your skin, moving between your legs. 

"Oh no!" You gasp against his lips, realizing something. 

JJ jumps, breaking his lips from yours and flying his hands off. “Woah, what! Sorry!” He thought maybe his hand may have set you off or something. He’s not sure what your boundaries are or anything, everything is still so new. 

“I don’t have a change of clothes!" You tell him. 

“Jesus," he rolls his eyes, finally able to breathe again. "Wear my shirt you’re wearing,” he gestures to the black AC/DC shirt hanging on you. 

You raise your eyebrows. “And have them start a fight? No way! They'll know it’s not mine," you explain stressfully. 

"You're right, tell them it's your boyfriend's and to mind their own damn business," JJ determines with a carefree shrug. Only after a couple seconds does he process that he called himself your boyfriend, having not discussed that yet. 

You raise your brows at his remark. A faint laugh escapes you, as if that would go over well with the boys. “As much as I would love to, I don’t think that would go well considering Rafe is already losing his mind.” 

A rush of relief consumes JJ when you don’t reject him. In fact, he’s over the moon when you don’t deny that he’s indeed your boyfriend. 

“So..." JJ drags out, gliding your fingers up and down your thigh. "Did you give Topper a specific time?” 

“No, just that I’d be over as soon as possible." You smirk, already knowing what he's thinking. "Why?” 

"Because if I remember correctly," he purrs into your ear with a smirk. "We were rudely interrupted last night..."

 As much as you'd love to do what JJ has in mind, you owe it to Topper to show up at a decent time. "We have the rest of the day for that," you move back a little, much to JJ's disappointment. He groans, making you giggle. "If Rafe acts up any more than he already has and goes to my house I'm royally screwed." 

"Okay, fine! Fine!" He rises up from the couch and offering you a hand. "But I'm holding you to your word! I expect full tomfoolery later!" 

"Deal." You lean in and plant a peck to his lips, making him blush. 

JJ grabs the keys to the Twinkie while you wait outside. You go over the plan multiple times on the way over, mainly to ease your nerves. JJ will park a few yards down the road, hidden behind the hedges that line Topper's yard. You will tell Topper that Sarah dropped you off and that you'll walk home because you live a few blocks away. Checking on Rafe will only take twenty minutes tops, but you're aiming for fifteen. You've done this before, taking care of Rafe. Get sick, chug Pedialyte, have Mcdonald's delivered, and put him to bed. 

You text Topper as soon as you're on your side of the island. 

Heading over now! 

A minute later, you receive a response. 

Awesome! See you soon! Thanks again Y/N/N. Owe you one! 

JJ does exactly as planned, making sure the Twinkie can't be seen from Topper's house. Reluctantly, he lets you out without him. He warns though that if you don't text him or give him some sign that you're okay within the ten-minute time slot he's given that he'll come in after you. You promise that you'll text him a smiley face as soon as you get the chance. 

You knock on Topper's front door a few times and wait for the tall boy to answer. After a few minutes you call for your friends. "Top! Rafe!" 

"I don't want you! I want Y/N!" You hear from the backyard and make your way back. 

"She's on her way!" Topper shouts. 

"Dude! Just sit down!" You hear Kelce add. 

"Guys?" You pop your head around the corner and find Rafe standing on the edge of Topper's pool, fully clothed in his suit from the night before. 

"Y/N! Finally!" Rafe gleams, gripping a bottle of champagne in his hand. 

"Thank God," Topper grumbles to himself as he approaches you. "Thanks again for coming," he greets with a kiss to your temple. 

"Of course," you smile as you move toward Kelce. You give him a quick side hug as you greet everyone. "When did you get here?" 

"About five minutes ago," he answers, breathless from trying to keep Rafe from jumping in. "Apparently I'm not good enough because he keeps asking for you." 

"Hey, Rafe, what's up?" You call over to the boy as stumbles over to you. 

"Geez, you are the most gorgeous girl in the OBX," he grins. 

"Oh am I now? What have you been up to?" You asking, knowing the answer. He smells of weed, sweat, and stale alcohol. His suit will no doubt need some serious dry cleaning. 

"Eh, nothing too exciting," he waves his hand and places an arm over your shoulder. "After you disappeared from the party the boys and I went back to do a few more lines. It wasn't as fun without you. Where did you go anyway? We looked all over for you." 

JJ crosses his arms over his chest. "Yeah, where'd you go?" He repeats as if you didn't explain it before on the phone. 

You frown at your best friend. Why is he acting like that? "Sarah convinced her parents to give her the car and she took me to her house while her parents were are the party," you repeat the story you rehearsed with JJ. 

"But Sarah was still at the party after we lost you. She told your parents that you left..." Topper replies slowly, almost as though he's accusing you of something. 

"Yeah, I was waiting in the car," you answer without hesitation. 

"Right..." Topper nods with narrowed eyes. 

You roll your eyes at Topper and bring your arm around Rafe. "Let's get you inside." 

"I wanted to go for a swim," Rafe whines. 

"That sounds so fun," you pretend, silently begging him to go inside without any retaliation. "Sadly, I didn't bring my suit." 

"Come on, Y/N, it's not like I haven't seen you in your underwear before," Rafe chuckles as you cross the threshold of the sliding door. 

"Nice, Rafe," Topper sarcastically remarks. 

"Oh no, I think I'm gonna be sick," Rafe coughs, hutching over next to you. 

 "I got this one," Kelce shouts, moving to get his friend toward the bathroom. 

Now that Rafe is inside and in the "get sick" stage, you move on to ordering him McDonald's. Knowing Topper's house like the back of your hand, you walk into the kitchen, leaving the boy in the living room. You hop onto the counter, your legs dangle over the edge. As you tap through your phone, Topper enters the room. 

"Are you feeling better?" He checks on you with a smile, a complete 180 from the attitude he was giving you minutes before. "I was out of it but I vaguely remember us stumbling out of the locker room," he chuckles. 

"Yeah we kinda went a little too far last night," you giggle, recalling the memory. "But I feel much better." 

Topper nods, offering you a faint smirk. He parts your legs, resting his palms on your thighs. "I'm surprised Ward let you and Sarah take his new Porsche considering he won't even let Rose drive it." 

Your heart races, shit. You didn't realize Ward took the Porsche to the party. When Sarah got to John B's she was in a BMW. 

"He must've had a lot of whiskey or something," you ramble out. 

The boy nods, bringing his hands to your hips. "Interesting... and-" Topper scrunches his brows together, glancing down at your body. "What are you wearing right now?" 

Shit. 

"It's uh... Sarah's," you blurt out what JJ said before you can think it through. 

"Sarah owns a ripped-up AC/DC shirt?" Topper snickers, not believing you for a second. 

"What? You don't?" You try to play it off. 

"Did you end up borrowing Sarah's car?" He changes the subject quickly, making your furrow your brows. 

"She dropped me off," you stick to your story. 

"That's nice of her," Topper comments, stepping closer to you. Usually, you'd like having him so close, but there's an underlying tension between you that makes you anxious. 

"For sure," you mutter, avoiding his gaze. 

"So you need a ride home?" He offers. 

"Nah, it's okay. I'll walk," you rush out. 

Topper brings his hand to the collar of your shirt, his fingertips gliding across your collar bone to rest on the side of your neck. "I kinda needed to see your brother anyway." 

You swallow hard, trying to remain calm. "For what?" 

"We're supposed to go out to the course later," he matches your quiet tone. 

"Cool," you nod faintly, starring down at your lap. 

"You and that Pogue seemed friendly last night before I came over... " Topper insinuates. 

Your head snaps up, meeting Topper's burning gaze. "Pogue? What Pogue?" 

"The one bartending," he snickers mockingly. 

"The blonde kid? Oh, not really," your brows scrunch together, nervously fidgeting with your phone case. "I only met him last night, didn't even catch his name," you lie. 

Topper tilts his head to the side. "Isn't he friends with John B? He's been around the Cameron's place a few times." 

"I haven't noticed," you shrug.

You can't tell whether he believes you or not. His stern expression never wavering. You feel trapped with his hands gripping your hips. 

"He's certainly noticed you, hasn't he?" The boy remarks with a wicked smirk as he stares at your lips. 

You shift your head back, taken aback by his words. "What does that mean?" 

"Oh come on, Y/N," Topper mutters your name, not one of his usual nicknames. "You're telling me you didn't notice him looking you up and down? It's why I came over to the bar after your dance with Rafe. I already had a full whiskey on the table." 

You snicker at the information, utterly amazed by the lengths Topper will go. "You ordered a drink just because you thought JJ was "too friendly" with me?" 

Topper narrows his eyes at you curiously. "I thought you didn't know his name?" 

Chills course over your skin as your breath hitches in your throat. Now, you remember that you haven't texted JJ and you're not sure how long it's been. 

"You want to tell me what's really going on, Y/N?" Topper presses. 

"Nothing's happening! I've gotta go," you snap, pressing a hand to his chest to urge him off of you. 

Topper grabs your wrist, removing your hand from him. Abruptly, he slams his lips to yours. Desprately, he brings his free hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. 

"Get-" you mutter against his lips as you try to fight him off. Instinctively you punch him in the chest, causing him to break from you. "Get off of me!" You gasp, hopping down from the counter as Topper stumbles back. "What the hell Topper!" 

His eyes grow wide, comprehending what he's done. He reches for you, but you cower away. "Y/N, I-" 

"No!" Your voice cracks as tears threaten to fall from your eyes. "You don't just get to do that whenever you feel like it! I'm not at your disposal when you want me!" 

He nods frantically. "I know that! I didn't-" 

"Ugh, whatever Top. I'm tired of this interrogation! You and Kelce can babysit Rafe without me!" You wave your hands as your march out of the room toward the front door. 

"Y/N! Y/N, wait!" Topper calls after you. "Y/N!" 

He follows you out the front door to the driveway in a panic. He can't believe he just kissed you, the one thing he swore he'd never do without your permission. He was just so desperate. He could feel you moving away from him and was panicking that maybe you were keeping something from him. 

"Y/N!" Topper wraps his fingers around your wrist. 

You yank your arm free as you spin on your heels to face him. "Don't grab me!" 

"Don't walk out on me!" He barks, instantly regretting it. 

Topper knows this isn't the way to get to you, but he's just so worried that you're slipping away. This wouldn't be the first time you two have fought this way, having it out in front of one of your houses. Similar to an old married couple, you two fight as passionately as you love each other. 

"You don't own me, Topper!" You remind the boy. 

"I'm just looking out for you!" He reasons in a shot. 

"You're the one who's acting like my dad right now!" You scoff. 

"Oh!" He laughs mockingly. "Is that what being an overbearing friend is called now?" 

You huff, turning over your shoulder to continue down the driveway. 

Topper stays where he is, yelling at you as your march away. "You know what, fine! Don't tell me what's going on! I just thought we were closer than that! I must've misunderstood all of last year, all of those late-night conversations and that weekend in Bermuda or all of winter break!" 

"Oh, my lord!" You groan, tossing your head back as you stop in your tracks. "Stop being so dramatic!" 

"What's he doing here?" Topper questions, his volume at a normal level. 

You frown, following his eyes as they linger behind you. Turning over your shoulder, you spot JJ standing at the end of the driveway. 

You hide your face in your hands. "Oh, Jesus-" 

"You have to be kidding me!" Topper shouts with a chuckle of frustration. 

"JJ, can you give us a minute?" You request calmly, giving the blonde a weak smile. 

"You brought him! You bring a Pogue!" Topper can't help but laugh, shocked by how this day has gone to complete shit in a span of fifteen minutes. 

Nervously, you rush over to Topper, pressing your hands to his chest. "Top, just go inside, okay!" You try your best to keep the situation civil. "I'll be inside in a minute-" 

"You're on the wrong side of the island, Pogue!" He points to JJ over his shoulder. 

"Just stick a cork in it, Prince Charming," JJ bites back from his spot. 

You huff, using all your strength to push a stubborn Topper toward the front door. He towers over you and is much stronger than you, so it's a tall task. 

"Prince Charming? Really!" Topper laughs. "Wow, got a real smartass here, Princess," he tells you. 

"Just for the love of all that good and holy go inside!" You beg of him with a grunt as you continue to guide him inch by inch. 

"Not until you get this trailer park trash off my driveway!" Topper bitterly remarks, loud enough for JJ to hear. 

"JJ and I will go as soon as we're done here," you tell him calmly with a huff, giving up on moving him. 

You step back, preparing to leave, but Topper grips your forearms. "No way you're leaving with him! No, you're staying here with us!" 

When Topper grabs you, JJ loses all cool and storms toward your friend. "Touch her again and I'll kick your ass, Kook!" JJ likes to think he's been rather rational and on his best behavior up until this point considering Topper is treating you as his property. 

"JJ! Don't!" You intercept the boy and though he could easily move you aside, he remains in your arms. 

"As if I'd leave her with your tripped-out friend and cluster of misogynistic asshole!" He points at Topper aggressively. 

"You don't know a thing about us, Pogue!" Topper pushes. 

"Topper! Enough! JJ back off!" You instruct sharply. 

With a growl, JJ walks back down the driveway, refusing to turn his back on the Kook. Cooling down slowly, he takes your hand, squeezing it tightly as he leads you toward the sidewalk. 

"You leave with him now and we're done!" Topper declares, making you stop in your tracks. "I mean it! You leave now and you're a Pogue!" 

"You don't mean that," you shake your head in disbelief. 

He laughs wickedly, "I promise you I do! It's them or us! You can't have both, Y/N!" 

It feels as though Topper has sucked all life from you. The light that he's kept going inside of you for so long has burned out. He's been your reason to be happy since you were kids and now he's threatening to desert you forever. All because you're falling for a Pogue. 

Kelce and Rafe appear in the archway of the front door. Kelce frowns, "what's going on out here?" 

"What's that Pogue doing here?"  Rafe questions. He sees your grieving expression and his wild antics become a distant memory. "Y/N?" 

You swallow hard, clenching your jaw in disgust at the Kook you once called your best friend. "Ask Topper!" 

You yank your hand free of JJ's and run down the driveway in the direction of the Twinkie. JJ jogs after you worriedly. He unlocks the car and you rush to get in. As soon as you sit down, you hunch over in your seat, your head cradled in your hands. JJ climbs in next to you and starts the car. He glances over at you and a wave of guilt consumes. He can't help but think this is all his fault. If he hadn't gone to check on you, maybe Topper wouldn't have said what he did. You wouldn't be devastated and you'd acknowledge his presence. 

JJ places a hand on your back. "Baby-" 

Before JJ can finish you cower away from him, moving your body toward the window. His heart drops as a million worst-case scenarios start to play in his mind. You hate him. You hate him now because he cost you, Topper. Of course, he already thought about what it would mean if you had to choose between him or Topper. He just had a naive inkling of hope that maybe you'd choose him and be okay, be happier with him. Now, he realizes by your disgust of him that you would've chosen Topper if Topper didn't push you toward JJ. 

_________________________________

The ride back to John B's is painfully silent. JJ had to turn on the radio five minutes in to drown out the overwhelming self-deprecating thoughts ringing in his mind. As soon as JJ rolls up to the end of the gravel driveway, you see the Pogues and Sarah gathered around the old bonfire eating breakfast. Not wanting to see them, you hop out, the car not even in park yet. 

"Hey guys! Where have-" Sarah stops as she sees you run into the house. JJ climbs out of the van and slams the door shut, grumbling various cuss words to himself. "What's wrong with Y/N?" Sarah asks him once he's closer to the group. 

"Topper called her this morning," the boy answers, pressing his lips together as he sits on an empty log. "Your brother was acting up and wouldn't chill out until he saw her. Long story short, I fucked up and intervened when things got tense with her and Topper," JJ hisses, clasping his hands together. "Topper told her that if she left with me that they wouldn't talk to her again so we left..." 

The group is silent, exchanging worried glances. Sarah's jaw is nearly in the dirt. She never thought in a million years that Topper would ever say those words to you. JJ's knee shakes up and down as he hides his head above his knees.  He rises to his feet, picking up an empty can from last night, and chucks it into the words with all his strength. "Y/N won't even fucking look at me!"

"That's not your fault, JJ," Kiara assures her friend, breaking the silence. "You did the right thing! Topper is a jerk!" 

"She'll come around. It's probably for the best that she's cut off from them. Those guys aren't good for her," Sarah adds. 

JJ exhales deeply, facing Sarah. "Do you know what happened last year or in Bermuda and Topper said something about winter break?" 

"Oh..." the girl's face falls. 

"What is it? Is it bad?" John B asks from beside her. 

"Not exactly. Topper and Y/N... Well..." she struggles to come up with the right words. 

You and Topper struggle to navigate your way through the pitch-black bungalow. You two have just gotten dropped off from the cantina in town. Half an hour before, Topper was doing body shots off of you. The boy leads you through the house, his hand wrapped tightly around yours. Through the moonlight, you notice a pillar right in Topper's path. 

“Watch out!” You gasp, tugging Topper back. 

“Oh shit!” He stumbles into you, pinning you against the wall. 

“I told you to watch out!” You giggle and peek around the corner into the living room. “Oh my god!” Your hand flies up to your mouth. 

“What! What is it?” Topper rushes out. 

“Rafe and that girl from Brazil,” you whisper, suppressing your laughter. 

“No way! You’re kidding!” Through the darkness, you can see Topper's eye grow wide as he steps to the side to see around the corner. 

“On the couch!” You instruct drunkenly. 

“Did they?” He wonders. 

“I have no idea!” You giggle. 

“Holy shit!” Topper laughs as he returns to stand in front of you. 

“He was blasted tonight,” you remember. “Poor Kelce went to bed as soon as we got back." 

“I didn’t mind it,” Topper mutters, gliding his fingertips up and down your arm. “Kinda liked it being just us...” 

“Topper,” you whisper his name warningly, a smile on your lips. 

“What?” He chuckles lightly, leaning in closer to you. 

You shake your head, finding it hard not to blush. “We broke up almost a year ago. You and Sarah-“ 

“Are broken up," he finishes. 

“Yeah, and remember how devastated you were no more than two weeks ago?" You try to reason with him. "You still need to heel and figure out what you want.” 

“I want you," he whispers, brushing lips against yours. 

“Top, I don’t think-“ 

Before you can finish, he kisses you softly. It's not the first time and you know in the back of your mind it likely won't be the last. 

“You’re all I think about, Y/N,” he confesses against your lips. “I need to feel you again. I miss the way you taste.” 

“Top...” You mutter breathlessly. 

You shake your head, despite not stopping him. “We shouldn’t...” 

“We deserve to, don’t we? After everything?" He reasons, tucking his fingers over the band of your panties. "You like me and I like you, we’re both single, there’s history, why can’t we?” 

A million reasons cross your mind, the most important one, your friendship. You and Topper have always been complicated. Things get worse when you add sex to the mix, which is exactly why you two formed boundaries a while back. Then again, you two toss those boundaries out the window every time you drink too much. 

One hand remains on your waist as the other slips down to the hem of your dress. His warm fingertips glide under the fabric, against your thigh. “Don’t you miss it? How we used to be? When we couldn’t get enough of each other," he smirks as a memory pops into his head that he's certain will get to you. “Our ski trip over Christmas.” 

“Okay yeah, you win," you rush out, instantly pressing your lips to his desperately. 

Topper snickers against your lips as he tucks his hands behind your legs and picks you up. Your legs wrap around his waist he just so happens to know effortlessly the direction to his room now. Though he was completely lost minutes before. 

"They dated!" Pope's jaw nearly hits the gravel. 

"No way!" John B wears a similar expression. 

"Yes and no. It's more complicated than that," Sarah tries to explain 

Kiara struggles to piece together the picture. "But I thought you two-" 

"They were friends with benefits before we were dating. Then, when Topper and I started dating, they stopped. Topper and I took a break in the winter and they started up again but stopped after Y/N decided that she couldn't do it anymore. Finally, they all went to Bermuda for a week after Midsummers. They didn't plan on anything happening, according to Y/N, but it kinda just did. They've always had "a thing" for each other. It's only ever been a fling though," Sarah finally manages to lay out the hectic story. 

"And you're okay with that?" Kiara frowns, wondering how Sarah fits into all of that. 

"Nothing happened while we were together," she shrugs but is certain of her words. "I know without a doubt that Y/N would never do that to me. Plus, it was never dating-like... it was more hook-up-ish if that makes sense?" 

"This is insane!" JJ finally voices his perspective, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. 

"I need a diagram," Pope adds. 

"Wait, so Topper and Y/N are on-and-off again. Meanwhile, Rafe has a thing for Y/N. Does Kelce play a role in any of this?" John B brings up a good point. 

Sarah shakes her head. "Not that I know of." 

"That's one fucked up love triangle," Pope releases a pent-up sigh. 

"This is why we have the "no Pogue-on-Pogue macking" rule. That friend group is a mess!" Kiara reasons. 

"Topper and Y/N have always been super close," Sarah describes solemnly considering the recent turn of events. "She must be devastated! Even if he is an ass. He's only ever been good to Y/N. I was low-key jealous of her when I first started seeing Topper. He holds her up on this pedestal," she admits. 

Suddenly, the screendoor creaks, making everyone turn their attention toward the house. Y/N marches out, back in her dress from last night. 

John B breaks the silence. "Hey Y/N! Where are you-" 

"Sarah, can you drive me home?" You ignore the boy on your way to Sarah's car, unlocking it. 

Sarah stands slowly from her position. "Sure, but don't you-" 

"Thanks!" You cut her off, already climbing into the passenger seat and putting the keys into the ignition. 

"I'll... I'll be back later," Sarah stammers in confusion to her friends. 

Everyone watches as Sarah back out of the driveway then turns their focus to a devastated JJ. 

"I fucked it up. I fucked it up!" He screams, squeezes his hands into fists until his knuckles are white. 

"JJ, it's okay! She probably just needs a minute," Kiara rushes out. 

"I have her for two seconds!" He bursts, his face becoming red with frustration. "Two fucking seconds and I ruined it just like I ruin everything else!" 

"Just give it time!" Pope tries to reason with him calmly. 

"Goddammit!" JJ curses before bolting toward the driveway and out of sight. 

"JJ!" His friends all call for him. 

 "JJ come back!" John B shouts to receive no response. "Well this day is officially shit," the boy huffs as he settles back down onto his log. 

"Do you think they'll be okay?" Kiara worries. 

"Hope so," John B whispers. 

After Sarah drops you off, you hide away in your room for the rest of the day. All you do is cry. You already miss Topper more than anything. You need him. You'll always need him. Then, on top of that, you're torturing yourself for how you treated JJ. None of this is his fault, but you treated him like it was. You cowered from him to keep from crying. You didn't want to scare him away, but in the process, you pushed him away. While you're losing your mind, JJ is losing his outside his dad's house with a half-empty bottle of Jim Beam in his hand. He's looking to pick a fight. He figures that if he's in pain physically that the pain he's inflicting on himself mentally will go away. You started the day wrapped up in each other and in bliss. You're ending it both in pain and willing to do anything to make it go away. 

________________________________________________________

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